It’s easy to get lost in the numbers.

One thousand two hundred and seventeen victories. Eleven national championships. Twenty-three Final Fours. Six undefeated seasons. One hundred and eleven wins in a row.

Individually, these milestones are unlikely to be matched. Collectively they are impossible to duplicate.

UConn’s Geno Auriemma broke the NCAA Division I record for coaching wins in men’s and women’s basketball on Wednesday, an 85-41 win over Fairleigh Dickinson marking his 1,217th and moving him past former Stanford coach Tara VanDerveer.

But the number to focus on is 160. That’s the number of Huskies who have played for coach Geno Auriemma. One hundred and sixty women stepped onto the UConn campus as 18-year-old children and their lives changed forever.

There is a bond between the 160, between players of different generations, even those who have never met. Because we have the shared life experience of playing for the greatest coach in the history of the game. We’ve been yelled at. Forced to tears. We have been pushed to the limits of what we thought possible. We’ve been told we’re too selfish. Or sometimes not selfish enough. That we can’t do anything right. That we are “the worst post player in America” (me and others) or “the dumbest smart person in America” (ditto).

Our practices were often difficult rehearsals and every game was opening night. “That’s why you come here, right?” Coach Auriemma told me recently. “You don’t go to Broadway and they put you on the show and say, ‘Listen, try to get your lines right now.’ You can do that at Manchester Little Theatre. Sorry, this is not a mistake.’

When I watch UConn practice now, I chuckle and feel sorry for players caught in Coach’s wrath. As he complains to head coach Chris Dailey, aka “CD,” about someone’s stupid mistake, just loud enough for everyone on the field to hear, I think of all the players who have been in the same position over the years.

Through all that we learned how to win. But not just winning. Win the right way. We learned to communicate, overcome mental and physical barriers and always put the team first.

We learned to say ‘thank you’ after the meal, learn the name of the bus driver and look the fans in the eye when they sign autographs.

We went to UConn because of the incredible bond we built with coaches Auriemma and Dailey during the recruiting process. After my mother told him during a home visit that UConn was a safety school, I followed him into our driveway and told him not to worry about her, that I knew where I was going to school. When I turned 16, CD sent me a birthday card and mistakenly wished me a happy 17th birthday. Since then, every year in early October, I receive a card from her wishing me a happy birthday, one year older than my actual age.

Most of us stayed because we believed they could make us who we wanted to be, even before there was any evidence of that.

We are national champions and player of the year. Olympians and All-Stars. Walk-ons and role players.

We are also wives and mothers and sisters and friends. During our time at Storrs we learned how to be the best versions of ourselves.

Does Coach Auriemma recruit strong women? Yes, but he also helps fake them.

UConn women’s basketball alumni Sue Bird and Renee Montgomery are prominent voices in the fight for social justice. Maya Moore gave up basketball in the prime of her career to focus on criminal justice reform. Swin Cash is an advocate against gun violence.

In so many ways, Coach Auriemma and UConn have changed the way basketball is played. Set a standard for what women’s programs can achieve. Forced every other school to raise their level so they could compete with the team in the basketball capital of the world.

And while they changed the way basketball is played, they also changed the lives of the 160. In many ways, we are what they made us.

When I asked Coach what the all-time wins record meant to him, he instead talked about his players: “To me, it should be celebrated by those (160) players. They should all feel like they’re an actor were in one of the greatest plays in the history of theater.”

The playwright doesn’t do it for the accolades, doesn’t need the marquees. He agrees with Hamlet: “The play is what matters.” But this week we, the members of an ever-growing ensemble cast, are standing in the wings applauding. Coach earned the curtain call.