Don't Let The Lipstick Fool You:. Lisa Leslie
Some reporters asked me if I thought it was bad sportsmanship to score all those points against South Torrance. I told one of them, “No. I don’t feel bad, because I think we played the sport of basketball. It wasn’t as if we played with six players or I just camped out under the basket all night. We played the game.”
When they asked if I would do it again should the opportunity arise, I answered, “Yeah! I think it is all in good sport. It’s not my fault that I am more talented than those players. I do think it is a great opportunity for any senior to try to score as many points as possible and maybe set a record. We played, and we did what we normally would do in a game. It wasn’t like South Torrance didn’t know that I was going to shoot. It was not a secret.”
It has been almost two decades since my 101-point game, and people still ask me about it. I do not know how many points I might have scored if South Torrance had stayed and played the second half. Maybe that question mark—the “what if” factor—is what keeps that night mystical, memorable, and interesting to talk about after all these years. I cannot be sure. But if I had been Coach Ramirez, I would have used a zone defense to try to keep me away from the basket. At the end of the day, though, I acknowledge that his team was full of good sportswomen for the two quarters that they played. They did not try to hurt me, and a less classy team might have tried to. If I had been in their sneakers, I would have taken the challenge to try to stop Lisa Leslie, but I would not deny any player the opportunity to take a shot at making history.
Cheryl Miller’s 105-point record remained unbroken until February 2006, when Epiphany Price of New York City scored 113 points in a single game. But nobody has come close to my record of 101 points in a single half.
That season our team went 33–2. We won our third straight CIF title and, for the third consecutive year, made it all the way back to the state championship game, in Oakland. This time our opponent was going to be Berkeley High School, from the Bay Area.
USC assistant coach Barbara Thaxton was there to watch me practice with the Lady Monarchs before the big game. College coaches showing up at our practices and games had become as much a part of Morningside girls’ basketball as the hoops and the nets. Southern Cal had been recruiting me hard, and I had gotten to know Coach Thaxton fairly well. I felt strange all throughout practice, so afterwards, I went over to her and said, “I have a bump on my stomach, and it’s bothering me.”
I pulled up my shirt. She took a look and told me, “Girl, that looks like a chicken pox.” Could this really happen to me? I had already had chicken pox when I was seven years old, but surprise, I would be one of the few people to get chicken pox twice in her life, and just in time for the state championship game no less. I was two days away from the last game of my high school career, and I had the prom coming up, too. The timing could not have been worse. And I found out I got it from Tiffany. Great!
When I stepped onto the court at the Oakland Coliseum, I had a fever of 102 degrees. I remember the jump ball that started the game against Berkeley High, but not much after that. I was told that I played every minute of the game and scored thirty-five points, grabbed a dozen rebounds, and blocked seven shots. I was told that we beat Berkeley 67–56 to capture the state championship again. I could not tell you that. I was drained. I collapsed. To this very day, I have no memory of ever playing in that game.
There is a vague recollection in my head of having our team picture taken with the championship trophy, but I never made it to the locker room after that. I fainted. When I woke up, I was on a table, wondering, What is wrong with me? I was sweating. My body was so hot, and I was exhausted. I could not even keep my eyes open. I knew something was terribly wrong.
I was taken to the hospital, where I was treated for fever, exhaustion, dehydration, and the chicken pox. What started out as one little bump had turned into a lot of little bumps all over me. Apparently, the stress of the game and all the sweating that I did triggered a pox population explosion. There were hundreds of them everywhere! I could not even enjoy our championship. While my teammates were all out partying, I was lying in the hospital with IVs in my arms and chicken pox all over me. CHICKEN POX!
The next day, my temperature was still up and my fluid levels were still down, but I had to fly back to Los Angeles with the team. Of course, the airlines would not have been real thrilled about having a contagious passenger on board, so I put on a few layers of clothes and a hat so that people would not see that something was seriously wrong with me. Not only did I feel sick, but I also looked horrible, and since I was so tall, there was no way to hide me. I could not even comb my hair. I had chicken pox on my scalp. They were all over me, and they itched. I remember getting on the plane. Thankfully, I was allowed to board first, because I was in a wheelchair. I was so sick and weak that I needed assistance. I did not have an ounce of strength. I took a seat by the window, and I was so tired that I must have fallen asleep before takeoff. The next thing that I knew, I was being helped off the plane in Los Angeles and into another wheelchair. It was terrible.
When we got home, I went straight to bed. I could not go back to school for several days, so while my teammates were basking in the glow of our state championship victory, I was in bed, absentmindedly peeling off all my chicken pox scabs and putting them in a jar. I know. That is so gross! And the thing is, I have no idea why I was doing it. I knew the scabs would leave a mark, but I picked at them, anyway. To this very day, I have a chicken pox scar on my face to remind me of the “Great State Championship Game Chicken Pox Fiasco.” And I later poured the jar of scabs on Dionne’s car.
By the way, I did make it to my senior prom. Eric took me, and it was my first time getting all dressed up. I had this black, velvety dress with lace at the bottom. It was fun to see the people that I saw every day at school all dressed up for the prom. I had a good time, and then we went to the after-prom party. I wore this hideous white leather skirt and white jacket. Eric wore matching white leather, and we were convinced that we were really styling.
This was a memorable experience for me because it was my first time out. In my four years at Morningside, I had never gone to a school party or joined a club. I had never smoked or drank alcohol. I had never had a one-time “hide in the closet” smoking or drinking experience. I had never had the desire to do those things. I knew that I wanted to be an Olympian, and I also knew that my mom would kill me if she ever found out.
To cap off my senior year at Morningside, I won the Naismith Award as the nation’s top high school basketball player, the Dial Award as the top high school student-athlete in the country, and the Gatorade Player of the Year Award, which honors the best high school athletes in the country for their athletic and academic excellence.
That 1989–90 season was filled with highlights, records, and honors, and before the school year was over, I got invited to try out for the USA world championship team, which was scheduled to play in Malaysia that summer. I flew to Florida and competed alongside Cynthia Cooper, Teresa Edwards, Tammy Jackson, and Lynette Woodard, who had played internationally. I held my own against them and made it all the way to the final cut, but I did not make the team.
The good news was that USA Basketball had other plans for me. They sent me to join the junior national team for its summer tournament in Canada, a four-game series in Vancouver. I had never played north of the border before, so it was an adventure for me. Dawn Staley was on my team again.
Canada was not a totally pleasant experience for me. We knew going in that the Canadians played dirty, so everyone on the U.S. team made sure to have their mouthpieces in place before tip-off. I got off to a really good start. I was scoring, rebounding, making my jump shots, and driving to the basket. It was a close, emotional game. We were playing hard, and I was excited. Some of the top people in USA Basketball were there scouting the young talent to see which players might be ready to move up to the next level.
I was playing defense at a crucial time in the second half when I knocked the ball out of bounds off of their center, a big, older-looking lady. I was clapping because we had the ball back, and while all the players were going to the other end of the court, Canada’s center walked by and hit me in the side of my head. I was stunned, but I reacted and socked her. I broke the woman’s nose.
I quickly backed away and told the