by Lisa Leslie
Someone had obviously been keeping tabs on me while I played on that boys’ team or when I practiced at the gym, because in that summer of 1986, I was selected to play in the Olympic Girls’ Development League (OGDL). It turns out that the OGDL played its games at the same Victoria Park that Craigie had been taking me to every night to work on my game.
John Anderson was my OGDL coach. He gave me the first pair of basketball shoes that I could call my own. They were Nikes. I loved them, and I knew I would like Nike from then on. Mr. Anderson was a yeller, though. And he was the first coach who cursed at me. Sometimes he made me cry, but I think that hurt his heart, because afterwards he was always really nice to me. He would say, “Lisa, when I yell, I am not really yelling at you. I just want to help you get better.”
Even through all of Coach Anderson’s shouting, I could sense his caring personality. He was a real sweetheart, and eventually, I learned not to take his shouting personally. Sometimes, I would even go over to his house to hang out with his daughter, Adana. Mrs. Anderson would cook, and we would all have a good time. The Andersons really took care of me. Since Aunt J.C.’s house was nearby, they would even pick me up for practices and games, and then drop me off afterwards.
I knew Coach Anderson saw something special in me, because he was always on my case in the gym, yet so nice at home. He must have liked my game a lot, because before I knew it, he had me playing in the OGDL’s fourteen-and-under, sixteen-and-under, and eighteen-and-under girls’ divisions, all in the same summer and sometimes all in the same day. I was incredibly busy, but I was excited, too, because Shay had joined the summer league. We would play on the weekends, and when one game ended for me, I would head to the sideline and change into the colored shirt of the next team that I would be playing for. Then, I would get back on the court and start playing again. I could go through a lot of shirts in one weekend. Some days, Shay and I would get to the park at 8:00 AM, and we would play five games before heading home. I loved the competition, and I enjoyed seeing my basketball skills improve with every game.
The OGDL was really great for me. I played against Pauline and Geanine Jordan in the eighteen-and-under division. They were twins who just happened to be two of the best girl basketball players not only in California, but also in the entire country. They were recruited by all of the top college basketball teams. Coaches were constantly coming to watch them play, so the OGDL was a showcase for the Jordan twins. It also shined some of the spotlight on a fourteen-year-old who was playing against them—me! I was not on the twins’ level in talent or experience, but I was competitive enough in the eighteen-and-under games. I had to guard Pauline and Geanine (who both got scholarships to UNLV), and that made me better defensively, but I also learned that I could score against the big girls. I could take them away from the basket and hit a short jumper, and eventually, I was driving to the hoop against them and scoring. It was exhilarating. The more I played, the better I got. The better I got, the more fun I had. And the more fun I had, the more I wanted to play.
My metamorphosis on the court was incredible. Within two years, I went from having never played basketball and nervously trying out for my seventh-grade team to holding my own on the court against eighteen-year-olds. I improved so much so quickly, and much of it was due to the basketball mentoring that I got from Craigie. He made sure that I knew the basics, and I made sure that I worked hard and put his teachings to good use. It was all coming together. I was finally really good at something, and I kept growing taller, too. I was up to six foot four that summer, but I was no longer Olive Oyl when I stepped on the court. I was Lisa Leslie, basketball player. I had an identity. I was not awkward. I could move. I performed, and people liked the way I played. My confidence was so high that it did not matter to me what age or gender my opponents might be. In my mind, I had the upper hand on all of them. It was a fantastic feeling.
My schedule was grueling, though. It was all basketball all the time for me, and since it was the summer, I had lots of time. I practiced two nights a week with the OGDL and then played their games on Saturdays and Sundays. I also played two games during the week with the Miraleste High School squad. Mom was trying to transition into more local trucking work, and she wanted to move our family from Carson to Palos Verdes, which was a nicer area. Miraleste High was located in Palos Verdes, so it made the most sense for me to play with the high school girls that I would be joining in the fall. I did not complain; their team was super impressive. We played against athletes like Heather and Heidi Buerge, another set of twins. They were both six foot four, just like me, and they both went on to play in the WNBA, just like me. The Miraleste squad had twin girls who mirrored the Buerges, plus we had a six-foot-seven center, and our point guard was over six feet tall. Our starting lineup featured five teenage girls who were all at least six feet tall. We were expected to have a great season. But as it turned out, I was not going to be a part of it. Mom decided that the move to Palos Verdes would be too much, too fast, and too expensive to handle. So instead, we moved from Aunt J.C.’s house in Carson to my grandmother’s house in Inglewood, not far from where the Lakers played NBA basketball at the Fabulous Forum.
That meant that Miraleste was out of the picture, and I would be attending high school in the Inglewood district. The Inglewood district had two high schools at the time: Inglewood and Morningside. I knew absolutely nothing about either of them, but Inglewood was a little closer, so Mom decided to enroll me there. On the day of enrollment, Mr. Dillon, the man in charge of Pupil Personnel Services, made a point of coming over to talk to us. “I know you want to go to Inglewood High because your Uncle Ed went there,” he said. “But I really think you should consider Morningside High. They have an excellent basketball team and a great coach. His name is Frank Scott. He takes good care of his girls, and he makes sure that they get home safely. I would really advise you to consider Morningside.”
I did not have a preference. I just wanted to get a good education and play basketball. But right then and there, I decided to attend Morningside High. It turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.
Before I ever stepped one foot on the Morningside campus, I had already received more than a hundred college recruiting letters. I was only fourteen, but my game had improved so much over the summer that college coaches had taken notice and were lining up to let me know that they were interested in me playing basketball at their universities. I was only an incoming freshman and I had not played one second of high school basketball, but I got letters from everywhere, including top Division I basketball programs, like Stanford, USC, Notre Dame, and Tennessee. Harvard wanted me, too. But being highly recruited did not help me fit in.
I was shy to begin with, and I always felt like an outsider, which only made things worse. I hated the fact that I did not grow up in one place, where I could really get to know people. How could I? I went to three different junior high schools. I think that is a big reason why sometimes people misinterpreted my shyness as being closed off or snobby. This still occasionally happens. I have always tried to treat all people nicely, but I am not very good at opening up to people. Growing up without close, long-term friendships made me a loner in a lot of ways. I never had to have a million friends, but it would have been nice to have some of my close friends for more than one school year. I was always the new kid. I was never the outcast, but I was never in any one school long enough to get into the in crowd and at times I felt left out.
My life changed dramatically, though, once I got to Morningside. On the first day of school, I was sitting all by myself on the last bench in the entire lunch area. I did not know one person. I was wearing a long pink skirt with checkers on it, a pink blouse, and black shoes. I had a ponytail and bangs. I was in high school, but I did not have a clue how to dress. A group of girls walked up to me, and one of them asked, “You play basketball?” I found out later that her name was JoJo Witherspoon.
I said, “Yeah. I play basketball.”
They ran off, and a few minutes later Coach Scott came over to introduce himself.
“Hi, I’m Frank Scott.”
“Hi, I’m Lisa.”
He knew who I was. Coach Scott had seen me play for Miraleste during the summer, so I think he was really surprised to see me sitting in front of him right there at Morningside. Just about everybody expected that I would be part of that powerhouse team in Palos Verdes.
“I hear that you play basketball,” Coach Scott said. “Would you like to play for our team here at Morningside?”
I told him I would.
“Are you good?” he asked, with a smile.
I answered, “I don’t know, but I want to play.”
Coach Scott chuckled. “Okay,” he said. “Good. Meet me at the gym at two PM.” Then he brought me over and introduced me to some of the other girls on the team. I was shy, but I was very excited.
I was in ninth grade—a brand-new freshman—but adjusting to a new high school was not my only concern. Tiffany and I were now staying with my grandmother. She was my mother’s mother and was so young looking that we called her Dear instead of the older-sounding Grandma. Dear’s house was another new place for us, another sofa bed to sleep on, another set of rules to learn. Every morning Dear would get up around seven o’clock and start yelling, “GET UP! GET UP!” Then she would start playing gospel music and run the vacuum cleaner. There was no sleeping late at Dear’s house—not even on weekends.
Tiffany and I would wipe the sleep from our eyes, stumble to our feet, fold up our blankets, fold the sofa, and then just sit there. There was absolutely no reason for us to be awake. We were sleepy, but my grandmother wanted us up, so we were. It was just miserable. I was always panicky at my grandmother’s house, constantly making sure that Tiffany did not make any messes or cause any trouble.
Dear would say, “Get your sister dressed, and get yourself dressed, too.” That meant I had to shower, bathe Tiffany, get her dressed, and have her all ready to go NOWHERE! My grandmother just wanted Tiffany to be up and dressed. Today, as an adult, I understand that kids do not need to stay in bed until noon or hang around in their pajamas all day, but it sure would have been nice if Dear could have held off on the wake-up calls until at least eight o’clock.
Once again, I found myself talking under my breath. “Oh man! I cannot wait till Mom gets home so we can get out of here.” Then a different thought would pass through my mind. Man, I cannot wait to get out of here so I can go play basketball. Hoops had become an outlet and my exciting new escape. I had just one small roadblock: my grandmother.
Dear was very hesitant to let me play basketball at my new high school. She was protective of me and did not want me to be take advantage of me. Coach Scott came by the house to introduce himself, and Dear was defensive and downright rude. She asked him point-blank, “Who are you, and what are you doing over here? What do you want with my granddaughter?”
Coach Scott seemed to understand my grandmother’s dubiousness and responded in his usual calm, respectful, non-ruffled way. “I am the coach of the girls’ basketball team at Morningside High School, and I would like Lisa to play on our team. I would be happy to come by and pick her up for school in the mornings and bring her back home after practices.”
Dear’s interrogation continued. “How do I know I can trust you?” I was so embarrassed. Looking back on it now, I know that she was just looking out for me, but Dear was really working Coach Scott over. She had no idea who this man was or what he might have in mind for me. But Coach answered her questions politely and gave her a lot of references and phone numbers to call so she could check up on him. Coach Scott told my grandmother that Mr. Fortune, the superintendent of schools, and our principal, Mrs. Martin, would verify that he was a good man who had been at Morningside High for ten years and that he routinely picked up his players before school and dropped them off after practice, without any problems at all.
Coach Scott withstood all of my grandmother’s blistering inquiries, and he turned out to be one of the most invaluable people in my basketball development. He would pick me up for school every morning. I would go to class, participate in girls’ basketball practice from 2:00 to 4:00 PM, and then practice with the boys’ team until Coach Scott was ready to leave. On some days, I would stay with Coach Scott to work over and over on my post moves. He would have me dribble in and take a bank shot. I would drive to the left, drive to the right, and hit a jump shot. He taught me how to react when a shot was taken, and how to box out, grab a rebound, and slide my feet to play more efficient defense. He was very good with fundamentals and very good for me. My knowledge of the game and my work ethic improved rapidly.
After practice, he would drive several players home. I actually lived the closest to school, but he always dropped me off last. I begged him to so I would not have to spend too much time at my grandmother’s house.
I enjoyed hanging out with him. I still do to this day. Coach Scott would tell corny jokes, and I might have been the only person who laughed, but I thought he was so funny and cool. In a lot of ways, he was the father that I never had. He was a very mellow, soft-spoken man who knew the game and knew how to communicate it to me, but he cared about me as more than just a basketball player. Coach Scott was the only one who knew that my mom was not home and that my sister and I were living with my grandmother under intense conditions. He would check my grades and make sure that I was eating lunch, and he would talk with Mom all the time to assure her that I was doing well. He was interested in me. I was flattered, and I did not want to let him down in any way.
Coach worked with me constantly. He would make me take five hundred shots a day and work on my dribbling. He taught me how to use my height to my best advantage. He would lob the ball up high to me and have me practice my turnaround jump shot. It was catch, turn, and shoot without my ever bringing the ball down below my head, where a smaller defender might grab it. I would do that left-handed, then right-handed. I would do the George Mikan drill over and over: left-side layup with the left hand, rebound, right-hand layup on the right side. Up and down, side to side, and back and forth time after time after time. It was difficult, but that drill helped with my footwork and rebounding, and I was able to get shots off more quickly.
Coach Scott never stopped challenging me to improve. He would bring a broom out on the court, hold it straight up over his head, and try to block my shots with it. That forced me to put more arc on my shots, which really helped when I competed against other tall players. He would line up my teammates and have them dribble and drive at me, one after the other. My job was to block every one of their shots. It was hard work, a real test, but it all paid off. Whatever Coach Scott told me to do, I did. I was not about to cheat myself. I did not cut corners. I worked hard and I got better. Some of the other girls on our team would talk back to Coach Scott or chatter during practice. I did not give him any attitude. I listened and I learned.
I did not talk much with my teammates. I had first lunch period, and most of the other girls had second. I rarely saw them during the day, but then, after school, I had to compete against them in order to win a spot on the team. Everyone was talking about who the starters might be, and more than a few times, I heard someone whisper, “That new girl is not going to come in and take my spot.”
It was an awkward situation, but as much as I wanted to be accepted, basketball mattered to me more than going out of my way to be anybody’s friend. I had very little competitive basketball experience under my belt, and I had never seen any of my new teammates play. I had no idea what level they were on. My gut told me to just go out and work hard. I definitely knew that I was tall. That was a big plus. I also knew I could shoot and play defense, but I had to learn in a hurry to be competitive. There was no cockiness to my game, because I knew that I had arrived so late to the sport. I knew there were other girls on the team who had played a lot more than me, and I knew that someone out there might be better than me.
As it turned ou
t, I was pretty good. Much better than I thought I would be, at least. I understood the drills and the three-man weave, and I was gaining more confidence day by day. I worked on dribbling, on blocking shots, and I kept improving. I was a freshman, but I was challenging Shaunda Green, a junior, who was the best player on our team. She was coming off an All-California Interscholastic Federation (CIF) season. There was jealousy and some tension in the gym. My teammates were not very discreet when they would say, “She ain’t better than Shaunda. She’s not going to come in here and start.”
My mind-set was, I am here and I can play basketball. I am not going to back down from any player, no matter her talent level. If Shaunda Green was the best on the team, then that is who I wanted to play against every day.
So I was very goal oriented early on. This was just the ninth grade, and I was already writing my goals down, knowing it would help me achieve them. I wanted to get better in math and earn a 3.5 grade point average, and in basketball, I wanted to be “Freshman of the Year” in California. My thinking was simple: This is what I want to do. This is what I want to accomplish. And I was so serious about it. On the basketball court, I planned to be the very best that I could be, and it was not just a dream or a wish. It was something for me to work toward, and my efforts paid off. I was the only ninth grader to make the varsity team. Shaunda and I were teammates. We were both very good, and we played well together for Morningside.
My high school basketball career was off to a great start, but six-year-old Tiffany was still my responsibility. I still had to pick her up when she got out of school. Then both of us would go to my practice or game. When the Lady Monarchs traveled, Tiffany would be on the team bus with us, even though that was strictly forbidden. Tiffany would write and keep busy while I did my homework, and I always made sure she got something to eat.