The morning air around the Denver Coliseum was crisp, tinged with the electric anticipation that only the first day of training camp could bring. The sun had barely crested the horizon, but already the stadium was alive: the thud of cleats on concrete, the buzz of trainers and coaches, the scent of fresh-cut grass and chalk dust.
On the field, Trisha Steinmetz was already in full gear, her number 10 jersey bright against the green turf. She moved through her warm-up routine with laser focus-high knees, quick feet, crisp throws to an assistant coach. She looked every bit the leader that Jeremy and Jenifer had hoped for, her presence setting the tone for everyone who followed.
Inside the newly converted women’s locker room-a former VIP suite now decked out with fresh paint, sturdy benches,
