I truly believe it’s only when you get close to the top of the mountain that you realize how rare it is to get that close—and how important it is to make that last effort and climb to the top.
We had made the finals in 2009, losing in a long, tough championship series. And though we had every expectation we’d return to the finals the next year and the year after that, it didn’t happen. Getting to the finals is a rare thing. We’d been here before and fallen short. Who knows when we would get here again?
We had to do it this time.
We would face the Minnesota Lynx in a best of five series. Minnesota had won the WNBA championship the year before. They would win again a year later. In 2012, they were the odds-on favorite to beat us. Not only were they deeply talented but they had a winner’s swagger. They, and everyone else, felt they would pretty much sweep the series against us.
We weren’t intimidated. Erlana Larkins said it best: “We’ve made it to this point, what’s there to fear? We know they’re the defending champions and they’re going to bring their ‘A’ game . . . . So what, they’re the defending champs? We’re here to take one.” Those are ambitious words, coming from a team that would be playing without Katie Douglas. But they weren’t just trash talk. We believed we could beat Minnesota.
But our biggest challenge would be to do it without Katie Douglas.
For once, we were the team to steal game one. We shut down Maya Moore, and our bench contributed mightily. I scored twenty, but it was Erlana and Briann who picked up the slack from the injured Katie.
Minnesota came out with a rush in the second half and even took a lead, but we pulled ahead after that and eventually won the game by six.
Interviewed later, I said, “We are not here to just be in the finals. We are here for a great opportunity, and both teams, we both want it bad. So every game is going to be just like this game. It’s going to be tough, it’s going to be hard-nosed.”
Game two was exactly that, featuring a technical foul on Lindsay Whalen after a hard steal and a subsequent technical on Lynx coach Cheryl Reeve, upset with the call. But that just seemed to motivate them. For us, we would lose our second sharpshooter, Jeanette Pohlen, to an ACL injury.
We led the game by ten in the second quarter, but Minnesota came back by the half, and then started to run away with it in the second half. We lost the game by twelve.
Tough to lose, but it was good to get at least a split in Minneapolis. Now the games would be played in front of our home fans in Indianapolis. And that home field advantage, believe me, would be a real plus. Our fans were the best, and we fueled off them.
However, what wasn’t encouraging was the injury to Jeanette, adding to our injury woes, and the way the Lynx, especially Maya and Lindsay, took over the game in the second half.
Game three in Indianapolis turned out to be bizarre.
I came out playing hard and piling up points. We led at the quarter by about five. Good, but still close. But then as the game came to me, and as the Lynx swarmed to shut me down, I was able to pass it off to my teammates. And, oh my, did they deliver! Shavonte came out of nowhere and started sinking threes. As the Lynx came out to defend her, she fed it to Briann, who powered in for layups inside. It was beautiful. We ran away with it.
At one point in the third quarter we were winning 70–33. I’m told that’s the largest lead by any team in WNBA finals history. Some said the Lynx just played badly. I don’t know. I think we just put it all together in ten or fifteen shining minutes in game three. Shavonte scored thirty points. Wow.
We won big, but more important, we had asserted the best of ourselves, and given the Lynx something to think about for game four—for them, potentially an elimination game.
We had an opportunity to do something that had never before been done in Indiana women’s basketball. The question was, would we rise to the challenge?
This was not “another championship.” If we won, it would be the Fever’s first. It would be the culmination of more than ten years of building the franchise. It was important to the city of Indianapolis and the state of Indiana. It was important to the WNBA—to have another team climb the mountain and rise to the peak, not one of a select few who had won a lot in the past.
We were playing without Katie Douglas and Jeanette Pohlen. We were playing game four against the strongest team in the WBNA, who had won the championship twice in years leading up to this. We knew, despite our blowout of them the previous game, they’d put that behind them quickly and would be a formidable challenge. We had everything stacked against us.
Of course my mom and dad were there, as well as my sister and brother. Dad was the sought-after interview, as always. It was reported that he said my success exceeded any satisfaction he had from his eleven-year pro career.
We came out strong in the first quarter. The Lynx pressured me, but as in game three, other teammates rose up to score and rebound. At the half, we were up by five. But we knew the last twenty minutes of the game would be hard-fought, and we’d face peaks and valleys.
There are times in sports when you develop a hyper-focus and it’s as if you can sense everything on the court happening all at once, almost in slow motion. You can sense the plays developing and the other team scrambling to cover, and you can pass the ball to the right person at the right time or take the shot yourself with great ease. And I think, for me, years of questions about leadership and being a team player and taking the shot came into great clarity. And suddenly I knew when to shoot and when to pass and how to be the leader for our team.
We led by just three toward the end of the third quarter, and the Lynx kept our leads to single digits throughout. Shavonte, again, was shooting well, and so was Erin Phillips. But our strength all game was our relentless defense. We kept pressure on the Lynx, and forced them to take tough shots.
With a minute to play, we were up by eight. It looked good, but as any basketball fan knows, a game can be lost in a hurry on the free throw line.
But then suddenly the minute was almost gone. We were up by seven. Coach Lin took a time-out she didn’t have to take. But she substituted Katie Douglas, still hobbling on her healing ankle, so she could get into the championship game. The Indy crowd roared, and it brought tears to many eyes.
The clock’s final seconds ticked down, and then—the game was over.
We were the 2012 WNBA Champions.
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Life
Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.
Romans 12:2 NKJV
“. . . they rallied behind my good friend, whom I’ve had the pleasure of being on the court with (and she took it easy on me!), Tamika Catchings, MVP, who can now add a WNBA championship to her NCAA championship, three-time Olympic gold medalist. . . .”
I would never have imagined that the person speaking about me would be President Barack Obama. I would never have imagined that I’d be handing the president of the United States a commemorative basketball, hat, and jersey. I would never have imagined that this little girl with a hearing loss, bullied in school, would some twenty years later be standing tall in the White House, being lauded with her other teammates.
In fact, this was not the first time I’d met the president. In 2008, during his presidential campaign, Obama visited Kokomo, Indiana, and participated in a three-on-three game. As I was still rehabbing from my Achilles tear, I was called in to referee. I’d also been invited to two State of the Union addresses—one for George Bush and one for Barack Obama. I have to say, the business of government fascinates and intrigues me. Someone once asked me an interesting question: “If you could be Invisible Woman for a day, what would you do?” I said, “I’d go to the White House and see what they got going on.”
I’d been privileged to be a part of Michelle Obama’s Let’s Move! Tour early in 2012, before our championship season. Let’s Move! is an initiative to count
er the problem of childhood obesity. It dovetails well with my Catch the Stars Foundation, which emphasizes “literacy, fitness, and mentoring.”
It was a very special honor to be at the White House that day with my teammates and Lin Dunn, and to be acknowledged by the president for what the team had done, for the championship we’d won. The president talked about how women’s basketball had done so much for girls growing up and giving them a sense of possibility. He mentioned that what we’d done had empowered women. So the experience that day gave me a sense of how our championship represented not only Indianapolis and Indiana but all of America.
But as affirming and wonderful as that was, I knew something deep inside. This, even this, is not what really matters.
Our championship set Indiana on fire. It was the state’s first professional basketball title since 1973. The men’s team, the Indiana Pacers, had won it several times in the old ABA league early in the seventies, but never since that time. Indiana, proud of both its professional teams, could now boast a championship.
Indianapolis scheduled a parade, but weather was predicted to be so bad they had to cancel it. Instead they scheduled a celebration in the arena—Banker’s Life Fieldhouse.
The place was packed. The atmosphere was charged.
I got congratulations tweets from LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, and Peyton Manning.
The state’s political VIPs were there, and some spoke. So did GM Kelly Krauskopf, who had taken a chance on me some ten years earlier; she said she felt she could finally breathe after a decade of building the team.
Coach Lin Dunn then spoke, saying that Atlanta, Connecticut, and Minnesota had never seen the level of defense we had played. She introduced each of the Fever players, one by one, and eventually got to Katie Douglas. Katie, was, of course, the hometown girl, a big favorite in the city and state. Katie got a huge ovation.
Then Lin said, “Let’s see . . . who have I forgot?”
The crowd roared and began chanting, “MVP . . . MVP . . . MVP . . .”
I got up to speak. Just a few words—and I don’t even remember what I said. Well, I remember one thing: “This has been a journey like no other.”
I’m sure some think that’s a cliché or trite, and maybe it is, for some. But for me this was very special. This represented overcoming so much in my life, working hard, fighting to be the best. It was about our hanging in there through ten years of ups and down, climbing the mountain each year, only to be disappointed. It meant getting to the final ascent, and then pulling ourselves up to the very top, finally able to look around to see what we’d accomplished.
It was wonderful. It was a dream realized.
But still I knew that’s not what really matters.
In early 2013 I re-upped my contract with the Fever. By re-signing, I knew I would finish my pro career with them. It mattered to me that they seemed intent on winning it all during my final years there, but I was leaning toward staying with them anyway. Loyalty is important to me. I wanted to be loyal to them. Plus, I couldn’t imagine playing for any other organization outside of Pacers Sports & Entertainment.
Our goal in 2013, of course, was to repeat as champions. Our team remained intact from 2012 to 2013, unusual for the WNBA. But then again, why tamper with success? We were a strong shooting team, and we managed ball possessions really well. We also excelled on defense.
We came out in 2013, losing six of our first seven games. While we didn’t want to make excuses, the reality was that we faced a number of injuries right off the bat. Katie Douglas had had chronic back issues throughout her career, and after two games, she was out with a bulging disc. Center Jessica Davenport suffered a stress fracture that knocked her out for the year. Erin Phillips was out for a number of games with a knee injury. Jeanette Pohlen, after coming back from a torn ACL, tore her Achilles and would be out for the season.
We would come back from that miserable start and win seven in a row. So we could put it together. But it was a year when sometimes we just didn’t. We made the playoffs that year, but finished fourth in our conference with a losing record. And while we advanced through the conference semis of the playoffs, we’d lose in the next round to Atlanta.
I was becoming more aware that my playing days were nearing an end. Not because I felt I was declining—not at all. But because I knew that certain physical realities and age would prompt a decline eventually, and I didn’t want to play at less than my best.
My college education in sports management led me to think about leading a team myself someday. I’ve never really wanted to coach. But I had once thought I wanted to own a WNBA team. However, recently, my thoughts had changed. Owners didn’t do much in building teams—that’s what general managers do. And so my focus shifted to being a GM someday.
I had watched our general manager and president, Kelly Krauskopf, build the team from the beginning. I felt she and I had developed a special bond. I knew she had taken a big chance drafting me as an injured player in 2002, and over the years she had built the franchise around me. I had played up to that challenge, and I knew she valued me for that.
I had watched her through the years, slowly building the Fever, trying to get the right pieces and fit them together. And while she had done a great job, eventually winning it all in 2012, she was well aware of how rare that was. No one could predict injuries. But she could bring players together who had chemistry, and whose styles of play complemented each other.
I’m not saying I wanted her job, but I could see myself doing the kind of work she does. I’ve learned a lot from watching her.
Obviously I felt it important to stay connected to basketball. At the point I couldn’t play anymore, I wanted to be in the game at some level. Maybe that would be someday as a general manager, I didn’t know.
Basketball had been my life. It was my dad’s career. It had been the centerpiece of my family’s life.
And yet, for all of that, I knew that even basketball is not what really matters.
Kelly made a lot of changes in the 2013–2014 off-season.
For one thing, Katie Douglas left the Fever, going back to the Connecticut Sun. Katie had suffered a lot from back problems, and was likely approaching the end of her career. But she had played with Connecticut before coming to the Fever, and they offered her a good deal to return.
Meanwhile, Kelly had two first-round draft picks and brought Natasha Howard and Natalie Achonwa, both forwards, to the Fever. Marissa Coleman, a small forward, was acquired from the Los Angeles Sparks. All in all, six new players would be on our roster. We would complement them with returning veterans Shavonte Zellous, Briann January, and me, but it was a substantially new team.
And then, I suffered an injury. What started out as some tingling in my knee and feeling a weakness when I tried to push off of it ended up being a pinched nerve in my back and would cause me to miss the first part of the season. Injections and rest were the prescription. I don’t do rest very well, but I had to sit out and take care of myself.
I returned on July 10, two-thirds into the season. We played the Connecticut Sun, and it was a strange feeling for me to square off against Katie Douglas.
The Fever made the playoffs, finishing second in the conference. We beat Washington in the semis, but lost to Chicago in the conference finals, once again missing a trip to the championship game.
In October 2014 I released a statement announcing the end date for my playing career. I would play two more seasons with the Fever, and hopefully, compete in the Olympics one last time in 2016.
In a TV interview, I said, “I will be retiring in 2016, Lord willing, if my body holds up. Although I plan to step away as a player, that is not to say I’ll step away from the game, hopefully. I am so thankful and blessed to have had an opportunity to play the game I have loved for so long. God has truly blessed me with an amazing playing career, and now it’s time to start transitioning to what he has for me beyond the lines of the basketball floor.”
In 2015 I st
arted learning how to shoot . . . all over again.
Eight years ago I began working with a renowned shooting coach, Marvin “Doc” Harvey, who studied the form of great basketball shooters, developed the theory and practice of shooting, and helped the likes of Michael Jordan with his shot.
For all of my experience in shooting and my success doing it on the court, I knew I could do better. Over the years, I have watched Kobe shoot, as well as Kevin Durant and Stephen Curry—all of them using their own classic form in shooting a basketball. My shot was a homegrown technique, one that had worked for me in a way through the years, but had problems. I knew that.
I told Doc that when I looked at Bryant, Durant, and Curry, their shooting looked so effortless and natural. “For me,” I admitted, “I have a grimace on my face. It’s like a shot for me is just such hard work!”
Doc Harvey replied, “That was the most profound thing you said to me. Okay, let’s get the shot right.”
So the transition that started almost eight years ago has shifted into a different phase. Now there’s been an increased focus in different aspects of my shot with the overall goal to go out on top being the best ME that I can be. And, man, it’s hard. You start playing without the ball, working on form only. It’s pantomime, learning the proper sequence of body movements and motions.
I learned that, in a game, as you get tired, your shot changes. You use your arms throughout the game, and they get tired. You start missing shots. Instead, you’re supposed to use your legs.
My shooting training with Doc emphasized how balanced movements throughout my whole body caused me to shoot more efficiently. The teachings included the timing of the hands and feet working together, along with the rhythm of the upper and lower body movements. These parts were repeated thousands of times until they became habit. When all parts were working together the only thing I had to focus on was my fingers directing the ball in a straight line, the proper arc, and back spin on the ball.
Catch a Star Page 18