What makes Lynx guard Courtney Williams go? Start with her dad

Courtney Williams is hard to miss.

Even if you look past her ever-vibrant hair — which is currently dyed hot pink — it’s almost impossible not to hear her.

“Courtney’s on another level in terms of hyping,” Lynx coach Cheryl Reeve said. “Just always talking. Like, she’s always talking … if I don’t hear her, I get concerned. If it’s a quiet morning, I’m the first one over there like, ‘Yo, what’s wrong? Come on. We need you.’”

That relentless energy shows up in games, in practice, in the locker room — and now, in front of a mic.

In April, Courtney Williams and her father, Don, launched their podcast, “Courtney’s Daddy & Her.” Equal parts family diary and comedy act, the show offers a raw, entertaining glimpse into the bond between the high-energy Lynx guard and the man who helped shape her — starting back in tiny Folkston, Ga.

The idea came to Don during a massage in Miami earlier this year. At the time, Courtney was playing in Unrivaled. The 3-on-3 format places greater emphasis on individuals, and players had a bigger platform.

Watching Courtney thrive, Don had a thought: Why not him, too? Then, on the massage table, Don claims the “vision” for the podcast came to him.

Courtney was instantly on board. Soon, they had a studio booked in Miami — lights, cameras, the whole setup. All they needed to bring was themselves. And their personalities.

“I’ve been with him all my life,” Courtney said. “So being me, our energy, we vibe off each other. It’s just natural.”

Spend even a few minutes with Don and it becomes clear from where Courtney gets her exuberance. They’re “twins,” as teammate Kayla McBride quipped.

To understand Courtney, you first have to understand Don. Now fans get the chance to do both.

“Them being able to do it together and talk about their journey together is really impactful, really special,” McBride said. “Especially a Black dad — I just think it’s really, really cool.”

Courtney couldn’t buy a bucket to start last Tuesday’s game against Vegas at Target Center. She was 1-for-6 at halftime.

But Don wasn’t fazed.

He was all smiles as he held court at his usual seat in the US Bank Backcourt Club. He’d popped into the lower-level lounge, which he jokingly calls his office, to grab some refreshments. Fans approached to say hello or take selfies. One bought him a drink.

“We’re not worried,” he told Lynx supporters.

Sure enough, his daughter responded — dropping 18 second-half points to help the Lynx storm back and defeat the Aces.

Reeve has likened Courtney to Dory (the fish from Disney’s “Finding Nemo” with short-term memory loss) in the past.

As Reeve noted Tuesday, Courtney “never believes she’s out of it.”

“That ain’t hard for me,” Courtney said of her next-play mentality. “We got to win. So whatever that look like, that’s what I’m gon’ do.”

That confidence isn’t self-made; it’s generational.

At halftime, Don waxed poetic about his daughter’s athletic feats.

“This girl used to be working on quadruple-doubles,” he said, counting on his fingers. “Points, assists, steals, blocked shots, rebounds. She was leading all of them [categories].”

Moments like that often resurface in their podcast. In one episode, fittingly titled “Backyard to the Big League,” the two reminisced about Courtney’s childhood highlight reel, including a game-winning half-court shot that still lives rent-free in both their heads.

“Remember I had the gym jumping?” Courtney said on the podcast. “I think that’s when everybody knew I was gon’ be the one.”

But what she also remembers, just as vividly, is Don screaming from the stands.

That energy extends beyond basketball, too.

A core childhood memory Courtney has shared over the years involves her, Don and a mirror. Her father reportedly told her, as the two stared at their reflections, “we some good-looking people and we the best at everything we do.”

Reeve encourages her players to be themselves. For Courtney, that means leading the Lynx with her energy, her swagger and her game.

“If you tell her what to do, she will largely get after it,” Reeve said. “We were in the Finals last year because she was a terrific player for us last year. We have a lot of good players, but Courtney’s a big reason why.”

Don has been wearing his daughter’s jersey to games for years, often adding his own flair with courtside dance moves and celebrations.

Recently, that jersey got an upgrade: where the zero in her No. 10 used to be, there’s now a scannable QR code with links to all his social media channels. His TikTok, in particular, has been booming. He started an account on the streaming platform Twitch in June. Fans can find him under variations of the same handle: @CourtneysDaddy.

Don’s now a full-blown content machine with a manager, Hayley Duren.

“I don’t manage anyone else’s parents,” Duren said with a laugh. “This is a unique situation, and I think that’s what makes this so special and such a draw for him.”

Don has more than 10,500 followers across Twitch, TikTok, Instagram and YouTube.

“The podcast opened the door for other stuff,” Don said. “We was already on social media, but once we did the podcast and we see how much people really love us … I started focusing on my TikTok.”

Duren and Courtney’s manager, Tatiana Arevalo, emphasized the podcast has been intentional in highlighting the authentic, supportive relationship between father and daughter.

In the most recent episode of the podcast, released June 5, the two discuss Courtney’s coming-out story. The video has amassed over 16,000 views, making it their most successful episode.

“It was Pride Month, so it just made sense,” Courtney said, “just to let everybody know, like, everybody’s coming out story is different, but just be who you are, man. The people that love you gonna love you.”

Don, for his part, doesn’t see his support as anything extraordinary.

“I be forgetting that,” Don said, referring to Courtney’s sexuality. “Like, ‘All right, yeah, she’s gay. She’s a stud.’ It’s normal because she’s Courtney … she’s a beautiful, wonderful person. I can’t see past that. All I see is her beautiful joy.”

In Courtney’s sophomore year of high school, Don recalled, she had a boyfriend. The two couldn’t stay away from each other. He snuck in windows. She lied about seeing him.

Eventually, Courtney got caught.

“She was lying,” he said. “That’s why I took that year.”

Her entire sophomore season, Courtney didn’t play. Don benched her, a father drawing a line in the sand.

That year changed everything. During Courtney’s junior season at Charlton County High School, she broke the school’s single-game scoring record — set years earlier by her mom, Michele — with 42.

“Dude, she was a beast,” Don said. “I don’t think she would’ve been that beast if she had just kept playing. But she had her head right ... she was focused.”

Courtney holds no ill will. As Don might say, it was just part of the ride.

Michele and Don are divorced, and Courtney remains close to both of them.

Don used to work as a long-haul trucker, planning his delivery routes around her games. The routine ran something like this: park at a truck stop, go to Courtney’s game, wake up the next morning and deliver the load.

Now, he and Courtney live together. Don jokes he saw an opening. He didn’t like truck driving and she hated being by herself.

“Nobody like Dad,” Don said, reclining in his chair at the backcourt club. “I came along for the ride.”

His eyes wandered toward the court. The second half approached. He stood up to join the fans returning to their seats.

“Let’s go C-Dub!” one supporter yelled in his direction.

“Don’t worry,” Don responded. “We got it.”

Between the hat, the sunglasses, the customized jersey and the comically large Lynx chain swinging around his neck, he was hard to miss.

“Courtney’s Daddy & Her” both tend to be.