12
 Fever

You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

Matthew 5:3, Message

We take so much for granted in life, assuming that we will be able to do this and that, and that tomorrow we will be able to do more of what we did today, and that we’ll be able to continue our life on the course it’s on.

I felt so many things in the aftermath of my injury. Anger, confusion, worry. Why did it have to happen now? I had hoped to finish out my last year at Tennessee in a flourish, maybe lead the team to another national championship. And I had dreamed of being picked up by a top team in the WNBA draft. Now those hopes and dreams lay in pieces underneath the basket alongside my shattered ACL.

The Tennessee Lady Vols would have to finish the season without me. And no WNBA team would want to draft a player with a shattered ACL.

Tearing my ACL was devastating in so many ways.

It’s a common injury in sports, especially in basketball, especially among women, as it turns out—an injury to the part of the knee that stabilizes it. I might have assumed it would happen sometime in my basketball career, but I never imagined it would happen like that or at that time. ACLs require a long recovery time and tons of rehab. I could handle the recovery work, but what about my future career in basketball?

A verse in the Bible says something like, “You don’t know what your life will be like tomorrow. Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.”1 In the aftermath of my injury, I was in that Knoxville fog, frustrated and disappointed. And I think maybe I caught a glimpse of how fleeting and fragile life actually is.

That became God time for me. I had to turn to God for understanding about what had happened. I sought him, prayed, and did the only other thing I could do: wait. Times like these give the phrase “Wait upon the Lord” new meaning.

I don’t know that God causes things like my injury, but I sure know he uses them. When I wasn’t completely consumed with basketball, suddenly my heart turned to him once again. And I felt called to give him my life, completely.

And it was then that I felt a change. My anger and confusion fell away. I literally felt, suddenly, that I was washed in peace.

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The Lady Vols played well without me. I had been their leading scorer, and it wasn’t easy to replace my average fifteen points per game. But the team stepped up. We won the remainder of our games in the regular season, faltering only in the SEC tournament game against Vandy, a loss of just three points.

Entering the NCAA tournament that year, the Lady Vols retained our number one seed in the Mideast Regionals and quickly dispatched sixteenth seed Austin Peay and ninth seed St Mary’s. But in the regional, we faced Xavier and were trounced by fifteen points.

Another championship had eluded Pat Summitt for another year.

And I would not play another game for the Tennessee Lady Vols.

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The disappointment of Tennessee blended into my fears about the WNBA draft. When the injury occurred and I realized it would sideline me for nearly a year, I was crestfallen. I knew it would severely lessen my chances of being drafted.

The summer before, I had done an internship with the WNBA Phoenix Mercury, the team that had drafted my sister, Tauja. As it happened, Tauja was cut from the team right before that season (later to be picked up and then cut by the Miami Sol), but I was committed to the internship in Phoenix and did it anyway. It contributed to my degree.

In fact, at Tennessee I finished my undergraduate degree early, and for the second half of my senior year I started working on a master’s in sports management. The internship in Phoenix gave me a firsthand look at the management of a pro team. That summer I also learned a lot about the commercial realities of a pro team and what they looked for in drafting.

The WNBA was brand new, trying to establish itself, draw fans, bulk up attendance. A lot of WNBA teams were marginal financially, and needed all the paying fans they could draw. They needed collegiate stars to draw interest in their teams. Most of all, they needed collegiate stars who would actually play, not sit out a year to get a knee mended.

I compared it to going to the store—if you walk in to buy something, you want it to be new, not used and broken. WNBA teams likewise drafted for the new, not the used and broken, player. So I knew my stock in the draft had taken a hit, and I didn’t know where I’d place in the draft order, if I placed at all. Deep inside, I feared no one would want me.

It was all so . . . frustrating.

There’s a verse in The Message version of the Bible where Jesus said, “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God” (Matt. 5:3). I wasn’t so sure yet about the blessing part, but my injury made sure there was “less of me” on the court with Tennessee, and perhaps this would prove to be true in the WNBA as well.

It’s always been a struggle between God and me. Some have said I’m kind of stubborn. (Actually, some say I’m a lot stubborn.) I want to control my life, what I do, where I’m going. It’s hard for me to let go of that. So when I wrestle with God, I don’t give in easily.

But then he is . . . well, God.

There wasn’t much I could do. But there was a lot God could do. And he did.

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The WNBA draft was held in Secaucus, New Jersey. Despite my injury and fading draft hopes, I had an invite to attend.

I went, even though I had mixed feelings. I wanted to be part of the excitement and the festivities. But I wasn’t sure I would really be a part of anything, given my draft chances. And it was possible that where I landed in the draft could really disappoint my lifetime of dreams.

My parents were there to cheer me on. It was in a large TV studio housed by NBA Entertainment, and dozens of college players were there, along with friends and family. We each awaited our fate—a lottery ticket that in some cases would determine where someone would live and play and settle down for years to come.

The first pick was owned by the Seattle Storm, and it was no surprise they selected the Australian basketball star Lauren Jackson. (A round later Seattle would select Semeka Randall as their number two pick.)

I was interested, of course, in the fortunes of those I had played with and against. But I also felt I was in for a long night. Waiting, and perhaps not being selected at all. Waiting for disappointment.

Up second, the Charlotte Sting picked guard Kelly Miller from Georgia.

Then the Indiana Fever were on the clock. And the announcement came quickly: “The Indiana Fever choose, as their first selection . . . Tamika Catchings from the University of Tennessee.”

I couldn’t believe it. After all my concerns and worries about being picked at all, I was picked third?

I had two immediate reactions. One was a shout for joy. The other was panic. I knew that in moments I’d be in front of a camera and a microphone with a reporter asking me to talk about how I felt to be going to Indiana. And what did I know about Indiana? I thought of farmland and cows and corn. What else? What city did the Fever play in? Oh, right. Indianapolis. Wasn’t that where Purdue played? No. Not quite. University of Indiana? I think so. Oh, my!

I don’t even remember what I said to the media. I guess it was okay. I would learn later how great a place Indianapolis, Indiana, was. In those moments, though, the point was that the Fever wanted me—despite the fact that I wouldn’t be playing for them for a whole year. Quite a risk on their part.

And maybe that’s partly why I’ve been so loyal to Indiana since. They believed in me. And I’ve given back to them. I’ve been with the Fever my whole pro career.

So long, in fact, that they now consider me an honorary Hoosier!

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In retrospect, the frantic pace of those days and weeks is hard to imagine now:

Of course, there was this other little thing called moving. I would need to move out of my apartment, say good-bye to Knoxville, and move to Somewhere, Indiana. And so, two weeks after the draft, I moved to an apartment in Indianapolis.

Oh yes, and there was also this little thing called graduation. I would definitely be there to participate in the commencement ceremonies.

That was such a bittersweet experience. I guess all graduations are. You’re leaving a place that became so much to you. A place that contained the legend Pat Summitt, who taught you so much more than basketball. A place where you grew up from being a girl to being a woman.

Three of us Fab 4, who had entered UT together four years earlier, were graduating not only from Tennessee but into the WNBA, Semeka going to Seattle and Ace going to Houston. Our futures lay before us, and our college experience stretched out behind us. But our friendship would continue. Both Semeka and Ace continue to be good friends to me to this day. It was a sad time but a happy time. We cried some tears. And we laughed about the things we’d done together.

And I think there’s a special bond for those who have played at the top level of competition, who have endured pressure together, and who have reached the height of competitive play. We had gone through a lot together.

We’d be moving on. But to an even higher-level game. We would all meet again.

This time we’d play against each other.

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One of four teams inaugurated in the 2000 season, the Fever was just getting established. The year before it had its start with players picked from an expansion draft. In an expansion draft the existing teams can protect five current top players. The remaining players go into the draft and are selected by the new franchises.

The Indiana Fever had the first pick that year before and wound up with some good players, but it’s inevitable that the new teams would start slow and take some years to develop and draft top talent. In year one, its record was 9–23.

I was the first regular draft pick of the Indiana Fever. And I wouldn’t be on the court for another year.

The Fever would struggle again in year two, finishing just one game better than it had its first year. I watched from the bench, itching to play. My recovery from my torn ACL was progressing normally, but “normal” for an impatient me was too slow.

In early July, I hit a benchmark and was cleared to run straight lanes. No cutting, no pounding, no sprinting, just a nice casual gait forward. I was too excited! Shortly after that, I joined the team on my first road trip to Houston, Texas, where we would be taking on the Comets the next day. We landed and headed straight to the gym for practice. This would be my first time as a player in another team’s facility.

I was soaking up every moment. I changed clothes and waited for the rest of the team to get going so we could get on the court. I was mid-gait when I felt something tug in my knee. I tried to walk, but it hurt. It was a sharp pain in my knee and down my leg. Inside I was having a panic attack, outside I was looking around for our trainer—somewhat cool and somewhat frantically (if that’s possible). When I finally located our trainer and told her the pain I was feeling, she checked my knee and the next thing I knew, I was on a plane headed back to Indianapolis. I was devastated. I didn’t even get a chance to stay and watch our game against the Comets.

The doctor checked my knee and I found I had torn my meniscus. Another surgery required. More time before I would step back on the court. A complete letdown. But after being so close to the game in Houston, I was even more determined to get back. Another test from God.

My first chance at playing again would be early in 2002, in the off-season. I learned about another women’s professional league, the National Women’s Basketball League (NWBL) that was starting up and got a chance to head back to my hometown of Chicago and play with the Chicago Blaze. I was a little nervous as this would be my first competitive action since I tore my ACL, although I had fully recovered by now and had worked out and rehabbed hard.

Some people are surprised at the number of basketball leagues and competitions that exist in basketball outside of the NCAA and WNBA. But many different leagues in the United States and overseas are options for basketball players in the off-season. It’s possible for a woman basketball player to play on different teams in different leagues in different competitions nearly year-round.

In March I traveled to Houston to try out for the United States Women’s National Basketball Team. This team would represent the United States at the FIBA World Championships in China. If I made this team, and we won, I would get a shot at making the team two years later in the Olympics.

I didn’t know this when I tried out, but I heard later that the coach of the U.S. team, Van Chancellor, also coach of the WNBA Houston Comets, was reluctant to invite me to play. It was because he didn’t want to be responsible if my rehab wasn’t complete and I got hurt again. He doubted I would, or even should, make the team.

It felt good to be invited to play with some of the top players—including Sheryl Swoopes, Dawn Staley, and Lisa Leslie. The competition was high.

It was said that as soon as Van Chancellor asked, “Why is Catchings here?” in his southern drawl, there was a loud screech. As everyone turned their heads, they could see I had slid and saved the ball—the hustle play I’m known for. And then he said, “Oh, yes, she can play.” He said later he regretted doubting my fitness and ability to play at that level and kicked himself for nearly keeping me off the squad.

I made the team. And I thought about how much would have to happen in the next few months—my first year of pro basketball with the Indiana Fever and then at the break being ready to compete in the World Championships.

It had been a little more than a year since I tore my ACL. I thought about how much had happened in that year. I thought about how much God can do with us during the downtimes of our lives.