Volume 124 Issue 6
kansan.com
Friday, August 26, 2011
BASKETBALL
More Legends of the Phog guests announced
KORY CARPENTER
kcarpenter@kansan.com
The list of expected participants in next month's Legends of the Phog has been updated, according to KU Athletics. The list includes current and former NBA players including Paul Pierce, Mario Chalmers, Darnell Jackson, Nick Collison, Cole Aldrich, Xavier Henry, Marcus
and Markleff Morris, Scot Pollard, Greg Ostertag, and Darnell Valentine. "Many others will be participating and attending the Legends of the Phog," said Greg Gurley, director of development for the Williams Educational Fund, a fundraising program for the athletics department. "The Williams Educational Fund and men's basketball office is actively working on the event with emphasis on current and past professionals along with
timeless legends such as Darnell Valentine."
The event is set to take place on Saturday, Sept.
24 at 4:00 p.m. Tickets are currently on sale to
students for $10.
Edited by Ben Chipman
CHRIS BRONSON/KANSAN
CHRIS BRONSON/KANSAS The Morris Twins are among other former Kansas basketball star to play in Lawrence again.
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
TRAVIS YOUNG/KANSAN
SPEAK
HIGH GOALS
HOW ONE WRITER'S BASKETBALL STINT CHANGED HER PERSPECTIVE
It was a hoop dream. A fairytale for a kid like me who spent hours outdoors in the driveway with a basketball, pretending to be Michael Jordan, John Stockton or Kansas' own Jackie Stiles. A real-life blood, sweat, grit and tears Cinderella story, and it was happening to me. I was being recruited to play college basketball.
I jogged off the hardwood of the main gym of Benedictine College in Atchison after a workout session with the 2006-2007 women's basketball team. Completely out of breath, I squirted ice water from my bottle and tried nonchalantly to mask the sheer astonishment I felt at this team's intensity in an off-season scrimmage. The team was talented and played fluidly, and I imagined myself joining the ranks of those players next year. I began to regain my breath as well as my bearings while the rest of girls milled around casually.
Thrilling possibility, pride, anxiety and fatigue swirled inside my head as what I refer to as "basketball zen" lifted its trance on me. This is when total concentration leads to a loss of consciousness of all things except the game you're playing. It's like getting wrapped up in a good book, except instead of getting lost in your imagination, you're actually living it.
The scrimmage replayed itself in my head. I had run at the team's speed, learned its basic motion offense, and put up more than a couple good shots—and I hadn't missed. Not one shot. I couldn't believe it. The coach seemed impressed and the world of collegiate sports was at my fingertips. One more short conversation with Coach and I verbally committed myself to the women's basketball squad at Benedictine College.
All right, so I wasn't signing a contract with the Boston Celtics, but I was going to be a Lady Raven, and I felt a surging sense of pride that a four-year college wanted me to play for it—for a successful team. With many recent conference titles, seasons with 20-plus wins, and an appearance in its conference's national tournament last year, this was a program with a winning tradition. I was going to be a part of it.
I'd fallen in love with basketball at a young age and played every chance I got since joining a team in fourth grade. I went to camps every summer of junior and senior high school. Most of the time, I did it alone, without any of my teammates.
I went to high school at Wabaunsee High in Alma, a 2A school in rural Northeast Kansas. We won four games my senior year. I never had a winning season. Women's basketball at WHS has a history of mediocrity, to say the least. Female basketball players from my high school rarely played at the college level, but I continued to play every game and practice every day with careful intensity. I took my leadership role (probably too) seriously. I stayed after practice as long and often as possible, drilling, shooting, dribbling, driving and blowing past imaginary defenders. I wanted to prove to myself, and everyone else, that I could make it.
There I was, about to join a team stacked with skilled players who were just as passionate as I. The first few months were what I'd expected; weekly team commitments; 6 a.m. weight training twice a week; grueling afternoon agility and conditioning workouts; an eight-month-long calendar schedule of our daily pre-, regular-, and post-season workouts, practices, games and other team commitments. It was exhausting, but a sense of accomplishment accompanied the end of every long, tiring day.
As the season progressed, so did our practices. Conditioning got tougher and expectations rose. As a freshman, I'd likely
see little floor time; I knew I was a rookie. I worked hard to improve myself and my team. But very slowly—minuteally—a gap began to grow between my performance and that of my teammates. I saw them become quicker, smarter, more enduring players. I saw myself at a standstill. I
It was disheartening. I fed off that feeling and worked harder, but the gap kept growing. Why wasn't I getting better? Frustration, embarrassment and bitterness began to eat at me deeply.
I refused to believe I was incapable of something that before was so within my control. I felt like I'd failed. Disappointment replaced my anger, which gave way to indifference. But as those emotions slowly dulled, I came to a realization; sometimes, despite your strongest passions and effort, some things cannot be forced. It was brutally humbling to come to terms with the fact that I couldn't make myself a better athlete. Sports—basketball primarily—had been part of my identity for so long. Now, it was nothing.
A hole began to grow in me— a void that basketball had filled with a sense of ability and worth, of being challenged and either rising to success or coping with defeat. But in time,
something else found a home in that empty space; writing.
I declared my major in journalism upon starting college, but only then, as a sophomore, did I fall in love with writing. I joined the campus newspaper, The Circuit, and began writing on my own. I found myself using the same critical mindset, the same intense attention to detail and perfection that I had demanded of myself on the court. With basketball as my central focus, I had ignored parts of my life in the peripherals. New interests came into view, and before I knew it, something new took hold. The next fall I transferred to KU to focus on my career as a journalist and to explore a future that basketball could never offer me.
I still enjoy a friendly (but definitely competitive) pickup game at the rec center on occasion. As much ethic as I learned from the sport, I learned more about myself by letting it go. Even if you miss, always keep shooting. Sometimes you just need to shoot at a different goal.
LINDSEY DEITER
Lady Raven: Working her way to the collegiate level, Deiter's (middle row, left) college basketball experience made her reexamine her goals.
Contributed photo
OUNG/KANSAN
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