You Let Some Girl Beat You? Read Online Free PDF Page B

the news of the bid first surfaced; and at 6’1”, everybody thought she was the basketball player.
    â€œWhat if you get hurt out there?” she asked during one of our flights.
    â€œWell, I don’t expect to get hurt. I’ve learned not to think that way.”
    â€œWhat about all this publicity? Is that why you’re doing it?”
    â€œGosh no! I wish I didn’t have to fly to N.Y. for these interviews because it’s taking away from my workout time.” I didn’t know what she expected me to say.
    Once Sandy realized I wasn’t hunting for the limelight, and that I had no intention of capitalizing on the publicity or trying to turn it into some sort of money-machine, she warmed up, and we became close friends.
    I think the fact that I was doing the color commentary kind of tickled her and her husband, who both decided to let me live with them while I looked for an apartment in Indiana. Broadcasting the NBA games may have invited the same kind of backlash that the tryouts had, but at least this time it wasn’t from the press, and now I had Sandy in my corner.
    The Knapps were very kind about helping ease the transition to living out-of-state and away from my family. Best of all, they insulated me from the fanged barbs of those few in the Pacers organization who were still vexed at the thought of having me around for the next three years.
    In late September, with the Pacers’ blessing, I accepted a three–day invitation to compete in ABC’s Superstars competition, a televised decathlon-type event held in the Bahamas in December. I’d seen the show before. There were the men’s Superstars and the women’s Superstars . Both popular shows created all-around sports competitions and showcased elite athletes like Mark Spitz, Joe Frazier, O.J. Simpson, and Mark Gastineau in the men’s competitions; and the likes of Mary Jo Peppler, Anne Henning, and Linda Fernandez for the women’s competitions. It looked like something I’d be good at. The broadcasting booth wasn’t getting any cozier with Bob, and my body and soul were aching for athletic competition. It had been my lifeblood for as far back as I could remember. Without it, I was still me, but an anemic version.
    The weeks passed as I waited for December and the Superstars . But by November, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was itchy to play basketball, and the only way that was going to happen was if I played with the WBL, which meant breaking my NBA contract. I asked my agent at William Morris to quietly contact the WBL to discuss the possibility of reconsidering their offer. That’s when we learned that the New Jersey Gems had gained me in a swap with the Houston Angels.
    My agent asked me if I’d like to play for the Gems. It was a tough decision. On one hand, I sorely missed playing basketball. On the other, I had entered into an agreement with the Pacers, and I considered myself a woman of my word. I wouldn’t break the contract lightly. Besides, the WBL had attacked me in the press after I’d declined to join their league, and now I was finding out that, for whatever reason, I’d been traded. I suppose in their eyes, I’d rebuffed the WBL only to turn around and go out for the NBA, and that was a slap in the face.
    Would I like to play for them? Enough to break my contract with the Pacers?
    I wanted to play basketball, that much I knew; but at what cost? The WBL commissioner, Bill Byrne, had publicly skewered me after I’d spurned his league to try out for the Pacers. One paper quoted him as saying, “There are ten people better than she is. Her time has come and gone.”
    At twenty-four? I was at the top of my game, and I knew I had another ten years, easy, before I’d peak. He also said that I was embarrassing myself in the bid to play with the big boys. Little did I realize this was his way of using the press to get exposure for the upstart