Read Online In My Skin by Brittney Griner - Free Book Online Page A

seemed more fair and understanding. I was so sheltered and contained, I knew that when I got to college I would probably let loose, and I needed a coach who would let me get my wild out while still being able to keep me in line.
    I attended Baylor’s camp during the summer after my sophomore year of high school. Until then, I had actually spent more time in College Station, watching Texas A&M. I went to a bunch of Aggies games during the winter, because the school was only ninety minutes from Houston. I think their coach, Gary Blair, thought I was destined to choose A&M. But I fell in love with Baylor at that summer camp. The campus was just small enough that I could walk everywhere I needed to go; it wasn’t huge and sprawling like the University of Texas in Austin. I also liked the vibe I got when I talked to Kim in between sessions. I would seek her out on my way to get water and ask her questions about the drills we were doing. I was a sponge, because basketball still felt so new to me.
    On the last day of camp, we were scrimmaging, and I was going hard, wanting to prove myself. The Baylor players, who were working the camp, were watching from the sidelines, and they were pumping me up, shouting encouragement. At one point in the middle of playing, I thought to myself, Damn, I like it here. I’m going to commit. As soon as the drill ended, I jogged over to my dad, who was watching in the stands, and I said to him, “I want to commit here. What do you think about that?” I figured he would be happy about it, because it meant I would stay in state, so he could still see me play and keep an eye on me. Even though our relationship was growing more strained, I still recognized and appreciated all the ways in which he supported my budding basketball career.
    MY DAD DROVE ME everywhere for hoops, partly because he didn’t like me going anywhere alone. We spent countless hours together in his truck, driving to and from AAU practice, to and from tournaments. I remember one day, his boss didn’t want to give him the time off he was requesting, and I overheard Dad say into the phone, “Well, my girl has a tournament and I’m going to be there. You can fire me if you want.” He didn’t know I could hear him, but it made me happy. He never missed a game. Throughout my college career, he would always drive to Waco and back in one night, even if he had to be at work by six o’clock the next morning. I call him the Protector. Some of my AAU teammates would hop rides with other people’s moms, making long road trips in a van that usually had a cooler filled with Gatorades and snacks. But not me. Nope. No way. My dad and I would ride together in his truck, to South Carolina or Alabama. If he didn’t go, I didn’t go. But he always went. And those rides were actually pretty cool. We would just talk about random stuff, nothing heavy, but I was glad to have any connection with my dad, even if it was superficial. Without basketball, we probably wouldn’t have spent time together during my teenage years.
    I could also always count on my dad to be stoic during my games. He wasn’t one of those parents who become emotional when their kids play, or yell at the coach, or call out instructions. He would just sit on the sideline, no emotion, even if it was the final play of a close game and everyone else was standing up and screaming. He saved his criticisms and advice for after the game, but I never felt compelled to listen too closely because he had never played basketball. In fact, he only started watching it the year I started playing it. Of course, that didn’t keep him from offering advice about what I could do better. But he stopped doing it once I got to college, because he knew it bothered me. He would just say something simple and positive, like “Good game” or “You played well.” Occasionally, he would even say, “I’m proud of you.” He