My Shot

by Elena Delle Donne

  It’s unrealistic to think that you won’t feel depressed or angry when you’re not at your best. It’s okay to be frustrated—even desperate—when something that you’ve put months or years of your life into just disappears. I think you have to feel those emotions. Explore them. Even embrace them. Just know that they won’t last forever, because chances are you’re going to get better and learn from your experience. You may even come back with more confidence because you’ve been through so much.

  I don’t regret a minute I spent recovering at home during the summer of 2014. I saw my family. I took walks with Lizzie. I got lots and lots of sleep. I learned to listen to my body, and finally I slowly started to feel better. My progress wasn’t steady—I’d have good days, then bad days—but by the end of July, I could tell things were looking up.

  Most of all, during my time away I discovered a love of basketball deeper than I’d ever known. I was so excited to play again that I could almost taste it.

  I knew not to push myself, though. I’d learned a hard lesson in the game against Atlanta, and I accepted that I might play for only a few minutes during my first game back.

  That’s okay, I told myself. If it’s what my body needs, it’s what I’ll give it.

  On Thursday, July 31, I returned to Chicago, and I played for only ten minutes. But I scored ten points, and we beat the New York Liberty 87–74.

  I might not have been at 100 percent, but I was back, still leading with confidence and a love of the game. That was all that mattered.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Attitude Is Everything

  Even though our season had had more highs and lows than almost any other team in the WNBA, by early August we still had a chance to make the play-offs. While I was out, Pokey had experimented with different configurations and new lineups, and players who’d never expected to start had helped see the bulk of the season through. When the injured players returned, many of these women went back on the bench, but their morale was high. They’d played confidently under incredibly trying conditions, and that had carried our team.

  I’m not sure if it was that confidence that helped us wrap up our season as well as we did, but we went 5–3 in our final games and just barely snatched up the last spot in the Eastern Conference play-offs.

  As we prepared for our series against the Atlanta Dream, I thought back on how I’d felt going into the play-offs the year before, when our situation had been so different.

  We were number one in the conference then, I remembered. Now we’re the underdogs.

  For just a moment I got worried. If no one thought we’d win, did that mean we should be less confident? Should we just expect to lose, so when we did—if we did—we wouldn’t be disappointed?

  Never, I thought. We can’t think that way.

  In any situation, no matter how unlikely your chance of success is, I don’t believe you can think negatively. Your confident attitude might just determine the outcome. After all, if you feel strong, you’ll probably act that way. So while our future was totally unexpected, I chose to think of the unknown as exciting, not scary. It was an opportunity, and if something great happened in the play-offs, we’d be thrilled.

  • • •

  The Atlanta Dream had been swept in the WNBA finals the year before, and it still bothered them. That’s why they headed into the play-offs feeling bullish. They had a brand-new coach, Michael Cooper, who’d energized them all year, and they walked onto the court in Atlanta wanting to win the semifinals probably more than any other team out there. They had something to prove, especially after losing ten of their last fourteen games.

  I won’t lie to you; I wasn’t sure we could beat them. The beginning of the game sure made it seem unlikely too.

  For the first quarter, we struggled, and we were down 17–30 when the clock ran out. Things didn’t get much better in the second quarter either, and we were always behind by double digits. At the end of the first half, the score was 41–54.

  The tide started to turn midway through the fourth quarter, though. With a pair of successful free throws, I narrowed Atlanta’s lead to nine. Then we capitalized on fouls and turnovers and squeezed their lead to five. Then it was two. Atlanta stole the ball from me in a breathtaking move, and I couldn’t catch up when they ran it down the court and brought the score within four.

  Maybe because of Atlanta’s speed and scoring ability in the first three quarters, we weren’t expected to come back. Or maybe Atlanta was just too exhausted and too hyped up to keep the level of energy they’d maintained for almost a full forty minutes of play. All I know is that sometimes when you think positive and feel confident—and, most of all, remain open-minded about whatever might happen—you become tougher and gutsier than you’ve ever been.

  And sometimes your opponent starts making mistakes.

  With seventeen seconds left and a one-point lead, Atlanta missed two free throws. Then with 8.2 seconds left, I made a successful layup, and we were up by one point.

  I don’t remember exactly what I said in the huddle when a time-out was called. I know I tapped into all the things I’d learned about leadership during the off-season and didn’t stand there silently. I yelled. I rallied. I pushed and became the positive, vocal force I’d learned how to be. And when we returned to the court for the last seconds of play, I didn’t know what would happen, but I felt confident we could win.

  As the clock ticked down, Atlanta took possession, moved as close to the net as we’d let them, shot, and missed. As the buzzer rang, my team flooded the floor, and we hugged tight. We’d come back from sixteen points down at the beginning of this quarter, and we’d done it because we believed in ourselves.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Comeback Kid

  For most of my life I’ve forced myself to be ahead of the game. Even though I’d spent days and weeks clawing back from disappointments like injuries and Lyme disease, those times were greatly outnumbered by the moments when I was light-years ahead of everyone else and everything. Being the Comeback Kid was a foreign feeling. Sure, it was a little bit weird and scary, but for the most part it was exciting.

  When you’re always on top, or always working to make yourself the star, there’s no drama. If you succeed, it’s because you were determined not to see any other outcome. Losing or failing isn’t an option to you. Unfortunately, that’s not just impractical; it’s also a recipe for disaster. You’re setting yourself up to totally melt down when things fall apart.

  During the 2014 play-offs, I loved being the Comeback Kid. The situation was full of possibility. I didn’t see it as a source of pressure but rather as a chance to double up on my efforts and prove that I could defy expectations. It was a new identity for me and a way to set a whole new set of goals. And if we lost? Well, that meant we’d have the chance to stage yet another comeback in the future.

  That’s how I chose to see things after game two of the semifinals. Even though we were riding a high from the previous game’s win, we couldn’t pull our act together during the second game. We made a strong showing in the first half, but Atlanta went on the attack in the second, led by an amazing player named Angel McCoughtry, who scored a whopping thirty-nine points. In the end we lost fair and square, 93–82, in front of a hometown crowd.

  Whether or not we’d advance in the play-offs would be decided by a third game in Atlanta. This matchup would prove to be the biggest comeback of my life, and by the time it was over, fans and the media were calling it one of the best WNBA play-off games of all time.

  • • •

  The fact is, I didn’t start the game strong at all, though. The Dream were up 30–17 at the end of the first quarter because they consistently nailed their free throws, which they hadn’t in the previous two games. They’d learned from their mistakes, and then they’d capitalized on them.

  The second quarter wasn’t much better for us. Atlanta’s defense got in the way of our attempted rebounds, made ten times more fast breaks than we did,
and netted at least two baskets anytime we made one.

  The first half bled into the second, and at the end of three quarters, we were still behind by double digits, 67–51.

  “We’re not done,” I said to my team as we huddled up at the end of the third quarter. “I can see it in all of your eyes. We can come back. But we absolutely have to push—and then finish!”

  In the heat of a basketball game, when players are rushing toward the ball or outmaneuvering defenders as they push toward the net, fans often forget about the little things that are necessary to make shots, blocks, and rebounds connect. It’s not just the hard work or muscling that moves a game forward—it’s also the ability to finish. No ball will go through a basket unless it’s aimed just right. No rebound can be made unless you position yourself correctly. Small tweaks and adjustments can make all the difference as you’re trying to finish. And that’s what I knew we had to do in the last quarter.

  Just as we refocused and sprang into action—forcefully but carefully—Atlanta started to stumble. We stopped being afraid to drive into the lane, and Atlanta didn’t react fast enough. Soon, with just under seven minutes left in the game, we were down by only ten—a big mental difference from the sixteen we’d trailed by at the end of the third quarter.

  Then we unleashed ourselves, scoring twelve unanswered points. The Dream rebounded quickly, and the score bounced back and forth between us as the clock dipped below the one-minute mark. With 29.5 seconds left, the Dream’s guard Shoni Schimmel made a beautiful run, jumped, and sunk the shot, bringing their lead to 80–77.

  Still, I could sense Atlanta was slipping, very subtly. They’d lost the edge that we still had, and I wanted to capitalize on that. When I got the ball, I drove to the line and made a jumper that brought us to within one point. In order to get the ball back quickly, we fouled one of their point guards, and sure enough, my hunch that they were flagging was right.

  The Dream missed both free throws, and we got the ball back with 16.2 seconds left.

  After the time-out, Atlanta had a tough choice to make. They could foul me, but since I was eleven for eleven from the free throw line, sending me up for two shots would probably ensure our lead. The other choice was to let us take a chance at shooting and try to stop us with their defense.

  When the ball went into play, Courtney Vandersloot took possession and moved to the back of the paint. Looking around for someone to pass to, she saw me on her left, and tossed the ball. When I caught it, I spied Atlanta’s Angel McCoughtry in front of me. She was their 6'1" small forward who’d been such a powerhouse scorer in the last game. She blocked me aggressively, and suddenly I thought back to the training I’d had in the off-season.

  Go right at her. Be forceful. Don’t let her throw you off. You’re stronger than you think you are.

  I charged ahead, stopped for a brief moment to fake, jumped, and then let the ball leave my fingers. It hung in the air, hit the backboard ever so slightly, and then fell into the basket.

  A perfect finish, I thought. Two points!

  With 8.2 seconds, we’d taken the lead. Unless Atlanta could make a basket on their next possession, the game was ours.

  I wonder if they were just tired, or if they were still scratching their heads from our improbable comeback, but they just couldn’t overcome our defense. We swarmed them, and as they shot, I knew there was no way they’d make it. The ball hit the rim, bounced three times, and fell down just as the buzzer rang. My team rushed onto the court, and all I could think was: We came back! Winning when no one expects you to is simply the best feeling in the world.

  Chapter Thirty

  Make Adjustments

  If you’re a high achiever like me, you probably never want to stop. Everywhere you turn, you likely see a new challenge to tackle, a new skill you want to test out, or a new competition you can’t wait to be a part of. As I’ve said a million times, if you go too fast or push too hard, you might burn out. I’ve spent the last ten years of my life trying to avoid that; the last thing I want is to quit something midstream just because I’ve worked way too hard and lost sight of my passion for it. That’s why, now, I’m the first person who’ll tell you that when you’re exhausted, injured, or can’t find your way, you need to stop, rest, and reevaluate your situation.

  Unfortunately, though, there are times when you need to slow down, but for whatever reason, you just can’t. You have to learn to adjust instead, and that is exactly what I did during the WNBA play-offs.

  During game one of the series against Atlanta, I’d tried to rebound a ball, just like I’d done a few thousand times before in my career. I didn’t move differently, wasn’t more aggressive than normal, and certainly didn’t invite any kind of unwanted physical contact. But at some point while I was jumping up to grab the ball, an opposing player’s elbow landed squarely in my back. I winced from the pain, thinking, Wow, that was sharp! But I kept on playing, assuming it was just an innocent bump and that I’d feel better almost immediately.

  I didn’t. My back got tighter and sorer with each passing minute, but it never bothered me so much that I asked to leave the game.

  After everything was over, though, I pulled Pokey aside to talk to her.

  “My back is hurting after getting elbowed,” I said. “I think I need to talk to a trainer about it. It’s probably not an issue, but I should get it checked out.”

  I’ve had scoliosis for years, meaning my spine is curved a little bit sideways. This throws my posture off, makes my muscles tighten, and causes a slight limp because one leg becomes slightly longer than the other. The fact that I’m so tall and move so much makes having this kind of condition not at all unusual, and I’ve always just dealt with it by seeing a physical therapist every now and then. But this time the pain felt different. It was stronger and wouldn’t go away no matter how much PT I did.

  “There’s some inflammation,” my trainer said after working my sore muscles with her hands. “I think we should try a treatment that’s a little more advanced.”

  She recommended electrostimulation, which involves putting small pads on the site of pain and sending low levels of electricity directly into the muscles. It has a slightly more intense effect than massage, though it still warms and vibrates your sore spots so that they loosen up.

  It helped, but not enough. My back was worse than ever when we faced off against the Indiana Fever in what would be one of the most dramatic series in WNBA play-off history.

  • • •

  I was still a little raw about the fact that the Fever had swept us in the play-offs the year before—even though we’d been the better team—so I didn’t want to beat them just because it would take us to the WNBA finals. I needed to prove that those three games were just a fluke. I wanted to show the world that we were—then and now—the dominant team.

  But the fact that my back hurt so badly made me worry I wouldn’t be able to do that.

  During game one I scored only fourteen points, and we lost 70–77. I spent what felt like half the game lying on my back on the sidelines, my trainer stretching my muscles, and the other half of the game shuffling—rather than running—around the court. Sylvia Fowles even had to tie my shoes for me before the game because I couldn’t bend over.

  I decided to have a heart-to-heart with Pokey after the game ended.

  “I think you need to play me differently in game two,” I told her. “I need to move less, so why don’t I become a decoy? I can be stationary, looking like I’m going to catch a pass at any moment, yet no one will ever send the ball to me. I’ll just fake everyone out.”

  She agreed, and the plan worked. The game went into double overtime, and I played thirty-nine minutes of it, yet I scored only nine points. My role was to throw people off, not make baskets, and I did just that. We barely squeaked out a victory, 86–84, ensuring a third game, where the Eastern Conference Championship would be decided.

  • • •

  Having a finals berth on the line is a hug
e deal, so I knew I couldn’t take the time to rest my back. If I could breathe and walk—even slowly—it was crucial that I play.

  In times like that, you have to think about your role and strengths differently, then adjust to them. I’d almost always been the leading scorer or the all-around player who kept my team’s score high. Or I’d been the Comeback Kid, helping my team rebound from a terrible deficit. During game three I chose to play backup. I’d let other players shine, and I’d support whatever plays they made. Sure, I might suffer through all of it, but I’d buckle down and do my best.

  While I gritted my teeth and worked as hard as I could, hoping my back wouldn’t start to spasm, I focused on stopping Indiana’s top scorer, Tamika Catchings. Then I watched as our point guard, Allie Quigley, outmaneuvered the defense and aggressively drove toward the basket.

  This new strategy worked for the team even when I started to falter. During the second quarter, my back hurt so badly I had to sit out through the half and almost all of the third quarter. But it didn’t matter. We’d adjusted, and Allie had scored twenty-four points. We’d also pretty much stopped Tamika Catchings, allowing us to clinch a 75–62 victory.

  For the first time in its history, the Chicago Sky would be going to the WNBA finals, and I was going to be a part of it.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  WNBA Finals

  The Phoenix Mercury were the winningest single-season team in WNBA history. Their regular season record for 2014 was 29–5, which beat the previous record of twenty-eight wins.

  Believe me, they’d earned every single word of praise they got. They worked hard, had great players like Brittney Griner and Diana Taurasi, and they led the league in points per game, overall offense, and defense. They’d turned their program around since 2012, when they’d been the second worst team in the WNBA. I didn’t feel much other than respect for how good their 2014 season had been, and playing them in the finals was actually going to be an honor.