Jackie Young walked through a sea of adoring fans still wearing her championship smile. A couple of days after helping the Las Vegas Aces secure their third title in four years, the “Silent Assassin” stood behind the front counter at a Raising Cane’s in Las Vegas, smiling as fans filtered in with jerseys and memorabilia in hand.
Upstairs, she’d spent part of the morning laughing with reporters, the kind of easy, genuine presence that doesn’t need to command a room to own it. Downstairs, she signed autographs, handed out food, and met the people who have watched her quietly turn dominance into routine.
That’s the thing about Young. She doesn’t demand the spotlight, but it always seems to find her regardless. She’s not the face of the Aces — that distinction belongs to A'ja Wilson, the undisputed best player in the world — but she might just be the backbone of everything they’ve built.
Her game is understated, efficient, devastating even. Her demeanor is approachable. She is, in every way, the kind of star who makes dynasties last.
But this championship felt different for Las Vegas. For all the talk of a budding dynasty, the Aces didn’t roll through the season the way they had in years past. They stumbled early, hovering around .500 and absorbing a 53-point loss that had plenty of people wondering if their time atop the league was over.
But just as the outside noise got louder, the Aces responded.
Las Vegas ripped off 17 straight wins to close the year strong and never looked back, capping it all with a 97–86 victory over the Phoenix Mercury to secure their third title in four years. It wasn’t dominance born from inevitability. This time, it felt even more earned.
Jackie Young is the understated pulse of the Las Vegas Aces
Young was at the center of the team’s success, just as she always is. She averaged over 20 points per game in the postseason, anchored the backcourt, and dropped 32 in Game 2 of the Finals, including a record 21 in the third quarter. Her performance helped the Aces win and reasserted what many have been saying all along: this is a dynasty.
Young, herself, has never needed the spotlight to be essential. While Wilson understandably commands the headlines, Young has become the piece that holds the Aces together. She’s the guard who plugs every gap, the scorer who picks her spots, the defender who never lets the moment get too big.
She doesn’t shout about it. She doesn’t have to.
Young is the steady hand on a team full of firepower, the player who can score, defend, facilitate, or simply do whatever’s needed without changing her expression.
Opponents call her unshakeable. Teammates call her dependable. Her nickname — “Silent Assassin” — fits not because she’s cold, but because she makes the biggest impact without needing to say a word.
Her growth from a complementary guard to one of the most complete players in the league hasn’t been marked by one big leap, but instead by the kind of incremental gains that only the most competitive players make. She’s now the player coaches trust to steady the offense when games get messy. She’s the one teammates turn to in moments that don’t make highlight reels but win championships.
She’s not the face of the franchise, but she sure feels like the backbone — or even the heartbeat.
“The season started out pretty rough… but we strung together 17 wins in a row,” Young told reporters. “Every time we come into training camp, we know that we’re prepping to win a championship.”
Later, she added quietly, “Pressure is a privilege. I’m just trying to set a good example and be the standard.”
That word — standard — has followed the Aces throughout their run. Young embodies it in ways that don’t always make headlines but always show up where it matters most.
The Aces have become the measuring stick for dominance in the WNBA. Wilson defines the era. Young helps make sure it endures. Her evolution is proof of the kind of depth and versatility dynasties need to survive.
Her impact also stretches well beyond the court. The WNBA is growing fast — more visibility, more sold-out crowds, more voices. Young isn’t the loudest of those voices, but she’s one of its clearest examples.
She shows what sustained greatness can look like when it isn’t built on flash. She’s a superstar who’s equally at home dominating a playoff game or serving fans chicken fingers a few days later.
“I know whenever I was a little girl, I looked up to Candace Parker,” she said. “If I can just be this person, that example, that the little girls look up to, then it means I’m doing something right.”
In Las Vegas, that quiet example has already left a mark. Around the league, it’s a sign that the WNBA’s next era isn’t just defined by a few transcendent stars, but by the strength of its foundations. Jackie Young is one of those foundations.
Every great team has its face, the one on the billboards and magazine covers. Wilson has earned that distinction. But the heartbeat is quieter. It shows up in the in-between moments to be the steadying hand, the calm, the work.
A’ja Wilson might be the face of the Las Vegas Aces dynasty. But if you look closely, Jackie Young is its heartbeat.