In My Skin (24 page)

For the final month of the WNBA season, I focused on asserting myself more on offense. That meant trying to set better screens, pin my defender on the block, demand the ball, and try to score. I had been floating around on offense, sometimes near the three-point line, nowhere near the basket when the shot was taken. My change in mind-set might not have been obvious on the stat sheet (I averaged 12.6 points a game as a rookie), but I believe it was the reason I hit the series-winning shot in Game 3 of the Western Conference semifinals, against the Los Angeles Sparks. If Coach Pennell hadn't prodded me to step up more, I probably would have tried to pass the ball when it ended up in my hands with just under seven seconds left in the game. And then I wouldn't have been talking afterward about my biggest moment as a pro—which also happened to be my sickest.

The morning of Game 3 against the Sparks, we had our team shootaround at the Staples Center, their home court. Afterward, we went back to our hotel and I ordered a steak from room service for lunch. I like my steak cooked medium-rare, but when this one arrived, it was more rare than usual. It tasted good, though, and I've eaten plenty of rare steaks before, so I polished it off without a second thought. I was feeling good, ready to go for the big game that night—until I walked into the arena. That's when the nausea hit. I started feeling horrible, but I didn't tell anyone because I was hoping it would pass. As soon as the game started, as soon as I jumped up for the opening tip, my stomach did a backflip. I knew right then and there that I had a tough couple of hours ahead.

I never ask to come out of a game, never ask for a quick breather, but at the first time-out, I raised my hand as I jogged off the court, then said to Coach Pennell, “I need one, right now. I need to come out.” I think my teammates thought I was heading for the end of the bench, but I just kept chugging along, like Forrest Gump, all the way off the court and into the tunnel leading to the locker room—to the bathroom. About midway through the tunnel, my knee brace broke. One of the screws popped off the side, and the whole contraption came apart. I thought to myself,
This is a horrible look! I don't know who cursed me, but I am cursed right now.
I quickly made it to the toilet, then spent the next few minutes throwing up my pregame meal.

Our trainer, Tamara Poole, had followed me into the locker room. I said to her, “Tamara, I need some medicine. I'm queasy and my stomach hurts.” We walked back out to the bench, where she gave me some antinausea medicine and I gulped down water. It wasn't long before Coach Pennell walked my way and asked, “You good?” I said, “Yup. Put me back in there.” But I quickly discovered I wasn't good. As soon as I started running and jumping again, the next wave hit me. And this is how it went for the rest of the game, a back-and-forth battle with my stomach. I felt a little better during the third quarter and into the fourth, until the final minutes of the game, when I desperately wanted to run back to the locker room.

I was standing in the huddle before our final offensive possession, and I almost told Coach Pennell he needed to take me out. Instead, I took a deep breath and told myself I could handle it. I watched him draw up the play. We were down 77-76, with seven seconds left on the clock, and we had the ball along the sideline, on our end of the court, right in front of the Sparks' bench. DeWanna Bonner (aka “DB”) was making the inbounds pass for us. I was supposed to set a screen to get Diana open, so she could catch the ball and take the final shot. And if Dee wasn't open, I was supposed to flash out and get the pass. I was nervous because DB had thrown me the ball from the same spot just a few plays earlier, and I had fumbled it out of bounds. As we were walking back onto the court to run the play that would decide our season, I said to Dee, “I'm going to set a mean screen and get you open.” And in my mind, she was going to come off my screen, get the ball, hit the shot, and we'd all go crazy.
The Mercury win!

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.