I Didn’t Get Here Alone
I'm just recovering from an unforgettable, whirlwind weekend in Springfield, Mass., where I was honored to be enshrined in the Basketball Hall of Fame.
But first, I have to apologize to the Hall of Fame committee:
I know. I invited too many people.
My bad.
You see, I had to. I didn’t know what else to do. I just wanted everyone there. For the last few weeks, I have been repeating the same phrase in my head: I didn’t get here alone. I didn’t get here alone. I didn’t get here alone.
When I learned I was being inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame, I practically invited three full basketball teams worth of family, friends and teammates. I can’t stop thinking about every person who pushed me and supported me. I want them to know how much they mean to me, how much I owe them. My husband, my mom, my sister, my aunts and uncles. My best friend, my coaches, teammates and friends.
It really is an honor. I’m in awe of this opportunity to join some of the most amazing athletes in the world in this hallowed space. I’m very excited, but I feel a little weird about it, too. I pride myself on teamwork and I’ve always stayed conscious of trying not to separate myself from my teammates. So when I do receive individual awards, I always hope that I remember to thank everyone who has assisted me, sometimes literally, and supported my hard work. I have not really reached any of these pinnacles of success without family, coaches, teammates and sponsors.
Often, I have been referred to as the face of the WNBA. But I see my role a little differently. I like to think of it as a privilege to have had the platform passed on to me from so many hardworking women. We all stand on shoulders of others — even when you’re 6’5”.
Rather than “the face of the WNBA,” I think of myself as a proud torch carrier — a player who received the torch from Cheryl Miller, Dawn Staley, Teresa Edwards, Katrina McClain, Annie Myers, Nancy Lieberman and Cynthia Cooper, to name a few. I carried it as far as I could and then I passed it on to the next group of players, such as Tamika Catchings, Diana Taurasi, Elena Delle Donne, the Ogwumike sisters, Skylar Diggins, Maya Moore and, of course, Candace Parker.
I’m excited about the new generation and how far they can go, which makes me think about how far I’ve come. I think of all the blessings that have been bestowed on me.
Starting with growing up in Compton.
One day, when I was seven years old, I was walking down the street on Atlantic Blvd. with my older sister Dionne. We found a little pink church and went in. The messages of faith, love and inclusion immediately spoke to me then, and they speak to me now. I accepted Christ as a seven-year-old. I didn’t have a real father figure — I only met the man who fathered me one day of my life when I was 12. He wasn’t around, so I never had a dad to shoot hoops with. But I never felt bad about it. I figured it was his loss. However, I do feel like my heavenly Father guided me as a young girl and as a woman. Growing up, I would walk back to this little church all the time and just pray. I have always felt a spiritual connection and I’ve always been a prayerful person. I prayed that I could be successful and that people would see me as beautiful — not odd, but smart, tall and beautiful!
Tall is a word I hear daily. I remember my second grade teacher once called my mom. There was urgency in her voice:
“Are you aware that Lisa’s head and shoulders taller than everyone in the class, including me?”
My mother paused. She was, as it turned out, quite aware.
“I’m 6’3” and her father is 6’4”,” my mom replied.
“OK, well then, excuse the call.”
I was six feet tall in the sixth grade. At age 12, my shoe size was 12. But I was kind of a nerdy kid — I loved to learn and compete in classes for the best grade.
I’ve been tall all my life, so I’ve never known anything different. I liked my height. I liked my skin. I liked my hair. I learned to love myself and be thankful for the body God blessed me with. I felt confident as a teen.
It didn’t occur to me as “different” until other people started pointing it out.
Everywhere I’d go, people would feel the need to comment on my appearance. Adults would come right up to me and say things like, “You’re too tall.” As an eight or 10-year-old girl, how do you respond to that? I think I just internalized it.
I got teased growing up. I was never really bullied but I was teased.
Act your age, not your shoe size, kids liked to say. Oh wait, that’s right, they’re the same.
“Olive Oil” was a crowd favorite because of my skin tone and slim frame.
My mom would always support me. She’d say, “Most people wish they were tall, that’s why they comment on your height. It’s just wishful thinking on their part.” The taller I grew, the more challenging it became to find clothes. I would pray to God for clothes that would fit me and shoes that would fit me. Being “different” meant I had to be creative. At 6’5”, I had to choose from men’s clothing, as most of my peers were still shopping in the teens department. I’d wear men’s blazers and men’s jeans. I’d try weird hats. My favorite item was my pair of leather Oxford shoes my mom brought me from Mexico. I really loved those shoes. They were leather, pointy and formal, but I wore them with everything. I loved them so much they had holes in the bottom. I wouldn’t stop wearing them until that one rainy day I couldn’t avoid all the puddles and got soaked.
Today, I want to tell that little girl kneeling in the church pews with funky shoes and a fedora: Love yourself for who you are. You’re right on track.
第1球当然是那记创造历史的扣篮喽
