She didn’t cry when Iowa lost the national title.
She didn’t cry when she packed her bags for the last time.
But when her name was called—late, unexpected, nearly forgotten—Kate Martin looked up from the crowd, and saw Caitlin Clark already standing. Already smiling. Already crying.

And in that moment, something inside her shattered.

“That hug? It wasn’t just about the draft,” she would later say.
“It was for every moment that came before.”

This is the story that almost never happened. And the friend who refused to let it die.

Chapter One: Always the Role Player

For most of her basketball life, Kate Martin played in the shadows.

She was the reliable one. The hustle player. The one who sprinted to loose balls, fought for position, and clapped loudest when someone else hit the shot.

When she joined Iowa, she was a solid guard with length and toughness—but not a name that turned heads.

Then Caitlin Clark arrived. And everything changed.

“I knew the game was about to get louder,” Martin said. “And I wasn’t sure there would still be room for someone like me.”

The Cold Game and the Quiet Whisper

It happened during their junior season—an away game in the dead of winter. Martin was ice cold. She’d missed three straight open looks, and her coach was already signaling for a sub.

During a timeout, while the staff huddled on one end of the bench, Clark slid over beside her.

“She didn’t yell. She didn’t preach. She just leaned in and said, ‘We win when you play free.’”

Martin returned to the floor and hit two straight threes. Then, in the final minute, she jumped a passing lane and sealed the game with a steal.

“That night didn’t change my stats,” she said. “It changed my mindset. Because she gave me something no one else had: belief.”

Chapter Two: The Phone Call She Almost Never Got

When Iowa’s season ended, Martin wasn’t on anyone’s radar.

She didn’t score in bunches. She didn’t have a shoe deal. She wasn’t in the draft green room.

She wasn’t even sure she should attend.

“I texted Caitlin and said, ‘I think I’m just gonna skip it.’”

Clark called immediately. No pep talk. No fake hype. Just one sentence:

“You’re not done.”

Martin booked her flight. Sat in the crowd. Waited.

And waited.

Draft Night: Silence, Then a Buzz

Pick after pick. Nothing.

She looked down at her phone to check the time—and saw a message flash:

“Vegas. Get ready.”

The next thing she remembers is Clark on her feet, arms out, tears in her eyes.

“I don’t remember the name being called,” Martin said. “I just remember Caitlin running toward me.”

The hug made headlines. But the story behind it didn’t.

Until now.

Chapter Three: The Fight to Be Seen

Landing in Las Vegas didn’t guarantee a thing.

She was walking into a locker room of champions: A’ja Wilson. Chelsea Gray. Kelsey Plum. Players with Olympic gold and WNBA rings.

“You don’t walk into that and expect to take over,” Martin said. “You just hope they let you stay.”

At first, she barely got touches in scrimmages. One assistant coach reportedly told her flat-out:

“You’re smart. But this isn’t the Big Ten.”

It stung.

“I went back to my hotel one night and opened an email draft,” she admitted. “I started typing my goodbye. Not to the team. To the game.”

She never sent it. Because her phone buzzed again.

Caitlin.
“Don’t hit send.”

The Comeback No One Saw Coming

Martin showed up the next morning first in the gym.

She didn’t ask for more minutes. She asked to guard A’ja in practice.

She got knocked down. Elbowed. Outrun. Outplayed.

But she didn’t back down.

And coaches noticed.

A few weeks later, she checked into a game in the second quarter. First play: a steal. Second play: an assist. Third play: a floor dive for a rebound.

“It wasn’t about points,” she said. “It was about proving I belonged in that room.”

Chapter Four: Off the Court, Always There

Through it all—Caitlin was watching.

“She’d FaceTime me after games,” Martin said. “Not to talk about highlights. Just to check in.”

They still talk nearly every day.

“We talk about defenses. Coffee shops. Stuff the media says. Stuff the media doesn’t.”

Clark, already swarmed with attention in Indiana, makes time.

And Martin? She makes sure the world knows:

“People talk about her numbers. But they don’t talk about how she sees people. That’s her real gift.”

The Comment That Broke the Internet

In the interview, Martin was asked directly:

“What would’ve happened if Caitlin wasn’t in your life?”

She paused. Blinked. Looked down.

“I wouldn’t be here.”

“She didn’t just make me better. She didn’t just pass me the ball when I missed three in a row. She saved my career.”

That clip has now been viewed over 14 million times.

Fans weren’t just touched. They were shaken.

“This is the real WNBA,” one posted. “Not the fights. Not the drama. This.”

Chapter Five: When Legacy Is Quiet

In a league often caught in controversy—whether over race, rivalries, or rumors—this story feels like something else.

Not sanitized.

Just… human.

“Leadership doesn’t always look like a speech,” one columnist wrote. “Sometimes it’s just a glance. A pass. A phone call at the right time.”

For Martin, that legacy isn’t measured in stat sheets or shoe deals.

“I don’t call her my savior,” she said.
“I call her my teammate. That’s enough.”

Epilogue: The Version She Almost Erased

Maybe the reason the hug went viral wasn’t just because two friends were happy.

Maybe it was because the world saw something rare:

A superstar refusing to rise alone.

A teammate refusing to let go.

A quiet moment that echoed louder than any mic’d-up trash talk or buzzer-beater three.

“She hugged the version of me I almost erased,” Martin whispered at the end of the interview.

“And that’s something I’ll never forget.”

Disclaimer:
This article is based on publicly available interviews, social content, and player relationships, and includes reconstructed moments and commentary to reflect the emotional truth behind Kate Martin’s journey. While specific conversations and events have been adapted for narrative purposes, the heart of the story remains rooted in real experiences and the enduring bond between teammates.