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An excerpt from Play Through the Foul - Basketball Lessons for the Game of Life by Vera Jones from Chapter 3 – "Gain A New Perspective: Be Coachable"
“You’re not a WNBA player, you’re not a WNBA Coach, and in fact, you haven’t coached at all on the college level. You were a good player in the 80s. It’s 2003. I’m not saying you’re not a good analyst; I just believe our broadcast needs a WNBA face or a more credible ‘big name’ if we want to grow our brand. ESPN is the face of women’s basketball. We need a face that people will know. We just need to move in a different direction…”
…It became clear that the decision to “move in a different direction” was as pre-meditated as it was inevitable. My 37-year-old eyes watched as a 23-year-old blonde fresh out of college replaced me. Was she more experienced? No. But she was about to become a WNBA name. She was young, she was attractive, and she had a lot of potential. She was that new, young face they could mold and brand into a women’s basketball television celebrity, which is what the new producer basically told me she wanted.
She made it clear that Robin Roberts and I were part of the previous producer’s vision. Now that Robin was about to move on to ABC’s Good Morning America, what the heck did she need me for? After all, I wasn’t a coach, I wasn’t a big name, I wasn’t a WNBA star, and oh yeah, I hadn’t played basketball since the Jheri Curl was in style. Truth be told, I had one of those drippy hairdos in the 80s!In the face of that reality, I was painfully beginning to see I definitely didn’t fit her vision, and it mattered little what my personal circumstances or opinions were. That’s the way the professional ball bounces. Game over, thanks for playing….Next!
Poor, Poor Me
So what was I going to do now? I had a dream and a plan to spend the next five years honing my broadcast talent and visibility so that I could readily step in once Oprah retired! I suspect I could have continued in the direction of pursuing that dream, just under different circumstances than I had anticipated if I was willing to be flexible and work harder. Instead, I chose to have a pity party and pout. I didn’t pout for a week or two. I pouted for a year and a half! Although my agent was more than ready to line up new broadcasting opportunities, somewhere I just lost the passion to continue.
National television had proven to be a very superficial, political disappointment for me. My mind was constantly occupied with confusion, contemplation and doubt. I knew I had a lot of other talents, so maybe it was time for me to pursue those interests. Maybe God allowed this to happen because it was time for me to pour more energy into raising my son. Maybe I really was getting too old. Maybe I was too fat. Maybe I wasn’t nearly as good as I thought I was. Maybe I was cursed!
“First a painful divorce, now no ESPN contract? No solid job security to raise my son? Holy Cow! I am definitely cursed!” I conjectured with paranoia. “What will I do? Dear God, have mercy on me!” My flair for the pitifully dramatic never had a greater chance to shine than this moment in my life. I sang “Oh, woe is me” like it was a Billboard chart topping hit! Perhaps you chuckle, but do you relate?
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