That isn’t how it happened, of course. The Sparks double-teamed Dee, so she wasn’t open. As soon as I saw two defenders go with her, I knew what I needed to do. I had to get the ball and take the shot. We didn’t have time for me to defer to someone else. And I had only one defender on me: Candace Parker. So I came back to the ball, and DB lobbed me a pass that led me toward the baseline. As I reached for the ball, I thought about the shot I always took at Baylor, my go-to move: turn toward my left shoulder, spin, face up, and release a soft little jumper. Turn and shoot. Turn and shoot. So when I caught the pass, I didn’t even hesitate. I knew exactly what I was going to do.
When the ball went in, the Sparks immediately called timeout. My teammates were jumping up and down as we went into our huddle, but I was struggling, just trying to keep my insides from spilling all over the court. We still needed to make one more defensive stop, which we did, forcing Candace Parker into a long, off-balance shot. When the final buzzer sounded, I started running off the court. My teammates were shouting, “BG, doin’ it for the rookies!” And I was yelling back, “Doin’ it for the rooks! Doin’ it for the rooks!” Then I turned away and said, “And on that note . . . I’m heading to the bathroom!”
That night was one of the best moments of my life, if not exactly the prettiest. It was a great reminder that people sometimes perform their best when facing extra hurdles—like when I ran the timed mile in my Vans during my freshman season at Baylor. I honestly don’t think I would have gone as fast in my running sneakers. And I needed that extra push from Coach Pennell after we lost to Seattle in August; I needed a reminder that the difference between good and great is something I must constantly look for within myself.
TOWARD THE END of my rookie season, I sat down with Coach Pennell and Mercury president Amber Cox to talk about my first summer with the team. They both left the organization a few weeks after the season, but our conversation that day has stayed with me, because they asked me the right questions. Was my rookie season a success? What things did I need to improve? How could I make sure that my second season would be better than my first? The bottom line is that I didn’t have a great rookie run. Part of the reason was due to injuries. I had never missed games in college or even been slowed much because of injuries. But only a few games into my pro career, I sprained the MCL in my left knee. Then I rolled my right ankle, then my left ankle, and then my right ankle again. I even hurt my right shoulder at some point—I just woke up sore one day, not sure why—although I didn’t miss any games because of it. Overall, I thought my first WNBA season was okay. I hate that I got injured early on, because I didn’t want to be a disappointment. Everybody expected me to come in and take over, but I wasn’t taking over. I didn’t want people to think, Oh, she’s a flop. I really struggled with that.
Even with the injuries, though, I know I could have played better. Amber and Coach Pennell essentially agreed with my “solid, but not great” assessment of my season. The three of us talked in Coach Pennell’s office inside the US Airways Center. They told me I needed to demand the ball more on offense, and be forceful once I got it. They said I needed to focus on getting stronger, working on my core, adding weight to my frame. They also wanted to see me concentrate more on basketball. I was getting yanked every which way off the court. There were times, with all the media and public appearances I was doing—many of them at the request of the league—that basketball almost felt like an afterthought, and that my real job was trying to bring more attention to the WNBA. When we were on the road, I was always doing postgame appearances, which are required by my league contract. I wanted to say, on more than one occasion, “No, I can’t do that,” but people were telling me, “You’re the face of the league now.” I know the publicity stuff is important, as long as I can find the right balance. And figuring out how to make it all work is my responsibility. So it was good to hear Amber say we all need to be more selective going forward, that media and appearance obligations come second to hoops.
Later that afternoon, I also met with Lindsay, my agent. I asked her, “Can I have some time off after China?” She laughed and said, “Of course! That’s already built into your schedule.” Phew. She explained that when I returned from China, I would have a few solid weeks off before coming back to Phoenix in March to train at Athletes’ Performance. (I met with some folks there when the WNBA season ended, and they did a movement analysis and a nutrition consultation for me, so I could try to get a jump on things in China.)
I felt much better after my conversations with Lindsay and my Mercury bosses that day, like I had the beginning of a good plan for how to make my second WNBA season better than my first.
MEANWHILE, MY ROOKIE YEAR wasn’t over yet. In some ways, it was just starting again. After we lost to the Minnesota Lynx in the Western Conference finals, I had just a few days to catch my breath before heading to Las Vegas for a three-day training camp with USA Basketball. Then I spent the rest of October in Texas, squeezing in as much quality time as possible with my family in Houston, including my adorable little niece and nephew, and Cherelle in Waco before starting the next big chapter in my life: playing in China, for the Zhejiang Chouzhou Golden Bulls. (And yes, I had to find Zhejiang on a map after I signed my deal when I turned pro. It’s about a two-hour drive from Shanghai.) Before Lindsay began negotiating with the team in Zhejiang, she asked me if I would feel more comfortable going to China, so far from home, if Nash and Julio could come with me. I said absolutely, so she built their travel and hotel into my contract. My boys had told me from the start, even before my first game with the Mercury, that they would take off a semester of school and go to China with me, because it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Knowing I would have a built-in support system gave me peace of mind, and my Chinese team agreed to put us all up in the same hotel for the winter, with me in one room and the bros in another: House 41 on the road.
I knew China would be an interesting challenge for me, on both a personal and a professional level. Cherelle couldn’t come with us, because she was focused on finishing her prelaw degree at Baylor, and we were both a little nervous about navigating a long-distance relationship. At the same time, though, I was determined to make the most of my time playing abroad. Some of the WNBA’s best post players would be spending the winter in China, too, including Sylvia Fowles (who’s six foot six) and Liz Cambage (who’s six foot eight), so I knew I’d face some serious competition. More than anything, I was ready to lock in, mentally, on becoming a better player, fine-tuning my body and skills for the professional game.
My contract with Zhejiang included salary and amenities for a personal coach, so while I was still in Phoenix, Lindsay set up interviews with three candidates interested in the job. She also asked Diana if she would sit in on the interviews because Dee had gone through the process before and would know the right questions to ask. But after we sat and talked with the first candidate, Dean Demopoulos, I decided to cancel the next two meetings. Dean was my guy—I was sure of it. He has been around the game for a long time, and worked as an assistant coach for three NBA teams, so he has an old-school, straightforward approach to certain things, which I liked when I met him. He didn’t just talk about what we could do on the court; he said he wanted to get in the film room with me to watch video of my individual workouts, so we could study my footwork and fundamentals. I’ve always found that helpful. The more we talked, the more I realized he could help me a lot.
Everybody was asking me if I felt nervous about going to China. But I wasn’t. I actually surprised myself a few times, telling people how much I was looking forward to it. (Well, except the part about changing my eating habits, which I’m trying to do.) I liked the idea of stepping away from the media spotlight for a few months and just focusing on basketball.
As I counted down the days before leaving for China, I kept thinking about everything that had happened over the previous twelve months since I was a college senior trying to hang on to the people and things I cared about
while letting go of the pain and distractions that kept getting in my way. There was so much to process.
TWO WEEKS BEFORE FLYING ABROAD, I went back to Baylor for Homecoming weekend. I was excited, but also nervous about how some people might react toward me. I called the ticket office, and a friend of mine hooked me up with field passes for the football game. Before kickoff, I put on my sunglasses, flipped up the hood on my sweatshirt, and tried to slip onto the field unnoticed. Needless to say, that didn’t work. I was standing on the sideline when I heard someone in the stands say, “Hey, that looks like Brittney!” I froze for a second; then I heard the crowd start to buzz. It was like a game of Telephone, as each person told the person next to them, pointing out where I was standing. So I took off my sunglasses and smiled. A few seconds later, everyone in that section started cheering, and I felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over me as the fans waved and smiled back.
Of course, that wasn’t the only hurdle I needed to clear while back in Waco. I had decided I wanted to reach out to Kim, to apologize for the texts I had sent her in the days after the loss to Louisville. No matter how much she had hurt me, much of the time unknowingly, I knew I could have behaved more respectfully toward her when my college career came to its abrupt end. So I stopped by basketball practice the day after the football game. All my former teammates were asking me, “You gonna talk to Kim?” She and I hadn’t spoken in six months.
When she entered the gym, I walked over to where she was standing and patted her on the back.
“Hey, Coach,” I said.
“Hey, Big Girl,” she answered, offering a small smile.
“I’m going to come back tomorrow and talk to you,” I told her.
“Okay. You know where to find me.”
Two days later (I procrastinated because it was not going to be the easiest conversation), I went to Kim’s office and found myself in that all-too-familiar spot: sitting across from her, separated by her desk.
“I came here to apologize for how I talked to you after the Louisville loss,” I said. “That was wrong.”
Kim nodded, but it quickly became clear that those texts were the least of her worries. The conversation shifted to the comments I had made in the media about the Baylor program and my frustration with the school’s policy against homosexuality. Kim said she didn’t understand why I had said all those things. She said I was making her look bad.
I shook my head. “I’m not trying to make you look bad,” I said. “But when I talked about Baylor and the policy, and everything I felt when I played here, that was all true.”
Kim insisted she had never said anything negative about me or asked me to take down any tweets. She said she wasn’t mad at me, but that I needed to “set things right” at Baylor because I had created tension in the administration. She offered no apologies of her own, so I just simply repeated what I had said at the start, that I was sorry for the texts and for the bad blood. Then we talked a little bit more, about small stuff, and I gave her my new number. Before I left, she told me we would eventually be cool again, in a better place, but it would take time.
As I walked away from her office, I replayed our conversation in my head. What did it mean, to set things right with the administration? That felt like chasing a shadow. To make things right with school executives, I would have to accept their idea of what God believes. I would have to apologize for being me. Kim seemed to imply that I had betrayed Baylor, but whose Baylor did I betray exactly? Because my Baylor is made up of all the great friends I met in Waco, and the teammates I won a national championship with, and the fans who were cheering for me at the Homecoming game. I can’t worry about somebody else’s Baylor.
What I do wonder sometimes is how I can ever set things right with Kim if we can’t have an honest, open conversation about the ways in which we’ve hurt each other. Maybe she’s right that time will heal the wounds. Maybe she just needs longer than I do. All I know for sure is that I’m glad I went to her office that day, because it was time for me to move on.
I LEFT FOR CHINA on the first Sunday of November. When I walked out of my family’s home, the sun hadn’t come up yet, and the morning was chilly and dark. I placed my oversized bags in my red pickup truck and drove with my parents to the airport. We idled outside the drop-off area as I unloaded my stuff. I squeezed my mom tightly, rocking her back and forth. Then I walked over to my dad, and he wrapped me in a big hug. We stayed like that for a long time, cars streaming past us.
Finally he let go of me. He wiped his eyes. I nodded. Then I grabbed my bags and walked through the sliding glass doors.
It was time to see what was waiting for me on the other side of the world.
PICTURE SECTION
I could not sit still as a kid. I don’t know who I’m calling in this picture, but it was probably someone with a car.
This is me at age five. Sweet as can be, right? (Sometimes!)
I was usually on my best behavior when my mom and I stopped by my grandparents’ house in Houston. But don’t be fooled: I was a handful as a ten-year-old.
One of the few things I liked about moving to the country (temporarily) during middle school: being a badass on my four-wheeler.
That’s my “big” sister Pier with me and my parents when I was in high school. We fought a lot as kids, but she watched out for me as I got older.
Even though I had grown to six foot eight by the time I was seventeen, a part of me was still Daddy’s little girl.
I was so happy to be done with high school. I would have been even happier if I didn’t have to wear a dress underneath my graduation gown.
My Dodge Magnum gave me freedom—until my dad started keeping track of every mile I put on it in college.
I loved coming home to Houston and hanging out with my nephew, EJ, especially when my mom was in the kitchen making ice cream for us.
It wasn’t so easy to be myself at Baylor, but I could always count on my “sis” Janell to put a smile on my face when she came to visit.
{Janell Roy}
I broke my wrist skateboarding during my junior year at Baylor. But hey, at least it happened after we won the national championship. Phew.
{Julio Trejo}
My Baylor bros Nash (left) and Julio (right) joined me at the 2012 ESPY Awards. Frosting on the cake: I took home the trophy for Female Athlete of the Year.
{Julio Trejo}
Stepping forward as the No. 1 pick in the 2013 WNBA Draft felt amazing, thanks to an assist from a stylist. (You can’t see here, but I’m wearing white Chuck Taylor sneakers, too.)
{Jesse D. Garrabrant/NBAE}
Training camp with the Phoenix Mercury took a cool turn when Kareem Abdul-Jabbar showed up to give me some pointers on how to shoot his legendary skyhook. (And yes, I need more practice.)
{Phoenix Mercury/Barry Gossage}
I dunked twice in my first WNBA game. Unfortunately, I also got into foul trouble and we lost to the Chicago Sky, setting the tone for my up-and-down rookie season.
{Barry Gossage/NBAE}
My life was a whirlwind after I turned pro. One of the highlights: a trip to Nike’s indoor skate park in LA, where I met (from left to right) C. R. Stecyk III, Eric Koston, and Lance Mountain, three legends of the skateboarding scene.
{Yoon Sui}
Keeping my speed in check wasn’t a problem during my stop at Nike. I’ve learned my lesson!
{Yoon Sui}
Now that we’re teammates, I see every day why Diana Taurasi is one of the all-time best players in our sport—because her basketball IQ is through the roof. She’s like a coach out on the court.
{Phoenix Mercury/Barry Gossage}
Power tie meets power tiger: NBA commissioner David Stern and I compare outfits at the annual WNBA Inspiring Women Luncheon. He’s retired now, but he’s still a huge supporter of our league.
{Nathaniel S. Butler/NBAE}
EPILOGUE
Now everyone knows the real me, my strengths and flaws, my dreams an
d doubts, the whole story—my story. For so many years, it felt like I was folding myself into a cramped airplane seat (which is why I couldn’t help but laugh at being stuck in the middle on my flight to the WNBA All-Star Game). There were times it seemed like no one had any real perspective on who I am, and some of that was my own fault. But now the plane has landed, and I’ve stood up and stretched out my arms and legs, and people can see all of me. I hope they also see how hard it was stuffing myself into a space that didn’t quite fit me—how hard it is for anyone to do that.
Everything depends on perspective, and how much you’re willing to let people know the real you. Some tall folks hunch over, trying to make themselves smaller. Some short folks wear heels, trying to make themselves taller. Me? I don’t want a hurt back or sore feet. I want to walk along comfortably, content to let people think whatever they’re going to think. I’ve learned, through a lot of trial and error, that the rewards of being authentic far outweigh the risks.
In My Skin Page 19