Basketball gave me a lot to be thankful for, my friends, a career playing all over the world, and the experiences that came with that. It’s a world sport, and not just three or four months out of the year, it’s played year-round, across both hemispheres. I think people underestimate what basketballers do and how big the sport is worldwide, because here in Australia it’s not as massive as overseas.
As a kid, playing basketball was its own sphere of happiness for me, everything else, whatever was happening outside of basketball didn’t matter, because when I stepped on the court, I could go and let out whatever I was feeling and just play. The determination came as I grew, and it grew with me. My poor dad, he told me recently that he’s felt bad ever since he told me to get back out on the court in the match before I wrote the mission statement, believing he’s the reason that I played through pain the way I did throughout my career. That’s not the case, I just grew up. It was my choice, I was going to play and be the best I could. I was determined, I played in the Sydney Olympics as I dreamt and aimed for, and went on further by pushing myself. It was my choice.
I was so young, and all of a sudden, I was in this life where you get whatever you want, do whatever you want, it was out of control, but when I was younger I lived for it. The more professional the sport, the more removed from life athletes can become. It’s a form of isolation, almost. You have everything done for you so you can focus on bringing out the best in your body physically. I’ve heard comments from some of the general public whose view of athletes is that we’re spoilt brats—but we’re not. We’ve spent years and years aiming for one goal, to get our bodies as fit as humanly possible.
As a professional athlete, I was paid to do what I loved, but there were a lot of sacrifices that came with that, whether it was my physical, emotional or mental health, or just being away from my family and those I love.
Physically, all those years playing professional basketball year-round have taken a toll on my body, the aches and pains I have for my age—it’s just ridiculous. But compared to the sort of pain I was in from 2012 to 2016, I’m fine. The nature of my injuries and all of those surgeries, I don’t think I’ll ever have to go through nearly as much pain as what I’ve already been through. I don’t think I’m even aware of the constant ache happening in my body until I have to bend over to do something with Harry and it takes me about ten seconds to straighten back up, or I go to open a car door and my thumb pops out. Certain things like that are going to bother me, get to me, but after pushing myself from one extreme to another while managing pain, I know that I can cope. My other knee will eventually have to be looked at, probably sooner rather than later. I still have pins in my hips, shoulder, ankle and knee, but my Achilles is now great, and as long as I can walk, I’m good.
I look back and I do sometimes think I could have rehabbed my body better, taken more time between seasons to go to the AIS and get as strong as I could, but whenever I eventually did have a break I just wanted to be with my family at home, and I wanted to be with my friends, because I hardly ever saw them. That was my priority, and that’s probably the only thing I look back on in my career and think, I could have done that better.
I’ll always be a basketballer at heart, that will never go away. I was lucky to have as many years as I did, but towards the end the pain was enough to make me want to throw in the towel. I still have moments where I dream of being able to play again, jump and move, have that body again, be who I was.
Mentally, I had struggles throughout my career with anxiety and depression. I think my anxiety led on to the really horrible stuff, but I was fortunate that I never had to pretend to be anything other than who I was. Prescription drugs evened out the physical pain and depression, but as I got older the drugs became more and more powerful, in order for me just to get through each day.
Emotionally, I’m happy. That’s an ever-changing state, and I think I’ve been through the worst, but then I had a child and apparently every day you worry. But it’s a different worry—it’s not that I don’t care about myself anymore, because I do, but for now it’s all about him. I’m grateful that basketball gave me the means to help support him, but I still have to work, and that’s fine. I have my job with the Boomers, I’m passionate about it, I’ve become passionate about the team watching them play, and even the off-court side of it I’m really enjoying. I’ve also got a gig with Fox Sports commentating the WNBL for the 2017/2018 season, which is a lot of fun and definitely igniting my passion for the sport again—watching it through a different lens is giving my love of basketball a new lease of life.
The minute I retired, I wasn’t an athlete anymore. When it’s over, it’s done, and normally you’re a bit worse for wear physically. Emotionally, I’m lucky I came out better than when I was playing.
Looking back, I guess I didn’t understand how big my achievements were at the time, I was just living each day as it came. With the highs and lows of the sport, combined with the depression, one day I would feel like I could achieve something really great, then the following day or week I would hit a low point so hard that it swept away all the good things happening at that time, and I’d focus instead on how bad I felt within myself. That all detracted from what I was achieving. I was so down, I hadn’t found myself as a human being, it took away from an exciting time in my life.
I would have loved to have won an Olympic gold medal, it would have been awesome. It would have been amazing, but realistically, even though we did have very talented players in our national team, we just weren’t at the level of the Americans. The US is the US. Athens was probably the closest we came to gold in my career. How do I feel about not winning gold? Is it my biggest regret? No. I don’t look back and think that it’s the worst thing that ever happened, because it wasn’t. I had a great career, and a lot of fun with great people along the way. How can you regret that?
Of everything I experienced in basketball, it is all the good people who have come into my life, and those who have supported and loved me unconditionally, that I appreciate the most. My parents, my mum—the love and support they have given me over my life has been so complete. After their car accident, the possibility of losing my mum shook me to my core. I could never appreciate how much motherhood meant, the unreserved love you give to your child, the desire to see them happy, before I had Harry. I now have a whole new level of love and respect for both of my parents.
It’s fair to say that since Harry arrived I have never felt more complete or content as an adult—don’t get me wrong, there have been some real struggles, but having him here has made me aware that it isn’t just about me anymore, it’s about this beautiful little soul who I’m responsible for, and that alone motivates me to be the best version of myself I can be.
Basketball is a great sport, it let me experience the world, but my world now is Harry—and around that, having a career that can still incorporate my love of basketball, and figuring out the balancing act that is life. I still want to incorporate all the things I used to do with charities and speaking engagements, I have one last unit left to finish my degree—and that’s interesting when combined with raising a child—but as with the rest of my life and loves, I’m figuring it out.
I’ve realised my dreams, been there for my teams, experienced so many highs and lows. The game of basketball, the game that has given me so much, is almost an analogy for my life. You take the hits, you get the ball, you score the buckets, you may miss occasionally, but you just play it to the best of your ability.