Joyce Edwards confesses, “I wanted to play with A’ja Wilson,” leaving South Carolina stunned by the shocking revelation!
In the world of women’s college basketball, few moments are as electric as when a generational talent makes her college commitment. The buzz, the speculation, the anticipation — they all culminate in a few words, a hat on a table, or a social media post that sends shockwaves through the sport. But few declarations have left as many jaws on the floor as Joyce Edwards’ recent, candid revelation.
“I wanted to play with A’ja Wilson,” Edwards said in a recent interview, her voice carrying the weight of what might have been. The admission came just weeks after her commitment to Baylor, stunning the University of South Carolina faithful who had long believed the five-star forward was destined to stay home and suit up for the Gamecocks.
The comment sent immediate ripples through the basketball world — not just because of the admiration for Wilson, arguably the greatest Gamecock of all time, but because it hinted at a deeper longing from Edwards to be part of something bigger than herself. Something legendary.
The quote itself was raw, honest, and slightly bittersweet. For South Carolina fans, it was a double-edged sword: validation of the program’s legacy through Wilson’s influence, yet also a painful reminder that sometimes, even greatness isn’t enough.
Edwards, the No. 1 recruit in the class of 2025, had been heavily pursued by head coach Dawn Staley and her staff for years. Hailing from Camden, South Carolina — just an hour from Columbia — Edwards seemed like a natural fit to follow in Wilson’s footsteps. The comparisons were easy to draw: tall, athletic, dominant on both ends, and carrying herself with the poise of a future pro. She had long been described as the “next A’ja Wilson” by those around her.
That’s what made her statement — and her decision — so jarring.
“I grew up watching A’ja. She was everything,” Edwards said. “The way she carried herself, the way she dominated, the way she represented South Carolina — I looked up to her so much. So yeah, if I had a chance to play with her, I would have taken it in a heartbeat.”
But A’ja Wilson graduated from South Carolina in 2018 and is now an MVP-caliber player in the WNBA with the Las Vegas Aces. The timing never aligned. And for Edwards, that missing link may have been the one intangible South Carolina couldn’t offer.
To understand the weight of Edwards’ words, you have to understand who A’ja Wilson is — not just as a player, but as a cultural and institutional icon in South Carolina.
Wilson was the crown jewel of Dawn Staley’s recruiting efforts in 2014. Her decision to stay home and play for the Gamecocks turned the tide for a program on the rise. With Wilson leading the way, South Carolina won its first national championship in 2017, and a new era of dominance began.
Off the court, Wilson has been a vocal leader for social justice, a trailblazer in the WNBA, and a proud ambassador for her alma mater. Her statue stands outside Colonial Life Arena — a literal monument to her impact.
For a young baller like Edwards, growing up in South Carolina, Wilson was more than just a role model — she was a beacon. So when Edwards spoke of wanting to play with her, it was more than nostalgia. It was a desire to be part of a legacy she revered deeply.
When Edwards announced her commitment to Baylor, it shocked the recruiting world. South Carolina had been seen as the overwhelming favorite. She had visited multiple times, had close ties to the coaching staff, and often spoke glowingly of the program. But in the end, she chose a different path.
“I had to make the best decision for me, for my growth,” Edwards explained. “Baylor just felt right — the fit, the system, the vibe. It was tough, but I had to follow my heart.”
Even as she moved forward with confidence in her choice, Edwards’ admission about Wilson left South Carolina fans with a lingering “what if.” Some interpreted her quote as a subtle regret, a sign that her heart might still carry a connection to Columbia.
Others saw it differently — as a testament to Wilson’s enduring influence on the game and a reminder that icons leave a mark long after they’ve left the court.
To her credit, Dawn Staley handled the situation with her trademark grace. When asked about Edwards’ comments, Staley offered a measured, heartfelt response.
“Joyce is a phenomenal young woman and a great talent,” she said. “We wanted her here, of course. But this journey is about finding the best path for yourself. If A’ja’s legacy inspired Joyce, that means everything. That’s what this program is about — inspiring the next generation.”
Wilson, too, chimed in on social media, responding to the quote with a simple tweet:
“That means the world. Keep chasing greatness, Joyce 💫 #TheStandard”
It was the kind of interaction that exemplified the culture South Carolina has built — one where legacy is embraced, even if the torchbearer chooses a different path.
Edwards’ decision and her honesty open the door to a broader conversation about what influences elite recruits. For some, it’s proximity to home. For others, it’s coaching, development, or NIL opportunities. But increasingly, it’s about legacy. It’s about who you play with — or wish you could play with — and the story you want to write.
In that sense, Edwards’ choice was both independent and connected. She didn’t choose South Carolina, but she acknowledged its greatness. She didn’t get to play with A’ja Wilson, but she paid homage to her in the most powerful way possible — by striving to live up to the standard she set.
As Joyce Edwards prepares to take the court in Waco, she does so with the weight of expectation, but also the freedom of a fresh start. She’ll write her own story, carve her own path, and perhaps one day inspire a young girl in South Carolina the way Wilson inspired her.
In the end, her confession wasn’t a betrayal of her home state — it was a tribute. A testament to the indelible mark A’ja Wilson left, not just on South Carolina, but on women’s basketball as a whole.
And while the Gamecocks may never see Edwards in garnet and black, her heart — and her game — will always carry a trace of Columbia’s greatest legend.
