Free In My Skin by Brittney Griner

Do you want me?”
    She smiled and said, “Big Girl, of course I do!” Then she got serious for a moment. “You realize you’re making a verbal commitment and you have to go by your word?”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “I mean, yes, ma’am. I understand.” I had a confused look on my face, because I thought that’s exactly what I was doing, making a verbal commitment. So I said it again, with conviction. “Yes. I want to come to Baylor.”
    When Kim heard that, she started shouting—“Big Girl is coming to Baylor!”—and the door burst open and people poured in. They must have been waiting just outside, with their ears pinned to the door. It was like they were spilling out of a clown car. Damion was pumping his fist and hollering, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Big Girl is here!” And Rekha Patterson, another assistant coach, was whooping it up at the top of her lungs. Then we all had a big group hug, like family, right inside Kim’s office. They were all so excited, like I was a big deal, and their reaction made me feel good, important. I mean, I knew I was a high-level recruit, because I was listed in all the rankings as one of the best players in the country. But I had been hooping for only a couple of years, and I wasn’t that far removed from the confused middle-school kid who figured she would join the military after high school. I didn’t have years of AAU ball—some kids start playing at age nine or ten—to build my ego. So that moment in Kim’s office meant so much to me.
    Even though a verbal commitment isn’t legally binding, most teams stopped calling me once word got out that I had said yes to Baylor. Schools still expressed their interest, but the only coach who seriously hung around—I guess in case I changed my mind for some reason—was Gary Blair at Texas A&M. He showed up at a lot of my high school games, and he kept recruiting me until the day I signed on the dotted line with Baylor, November 12, 2008, in my senior year of high school. I have to give him credit.
    Some kids might get a rush from all the attention that comes with the recruiting game, but I was happy to avoid most of it. I have friends who didn’t decide on their schools until the last minute, and by the end of it all, they were sick of the whole process. They were sick of hearing the phone ring and feeling obligated to talk. And I’m sure a lot of coaches get tired of chasing after players. It’s just one big song and dance, with everyone playing a role. Kim had to walk a fine line as a mother and as a coach, because Makenzie played on the same AAU team with girls who were being recruited by Baylor. I know there are plenty of folks who think Kim took advantage of the situation, but I think that’s just sour grapes. It’s not like Kim gave birth to Makenzie in the hopes that she would eventually grow up to play basketball at the same time, on the same AAU team, as one of the top recruits in the country. All coaches walk the line, trying to get every advantage they can while staying within the rules (or not getting caught breaking the rules). Everyone is looking for an edge.
    A week after we won the national championship at Baylor, during my junior season, the NCAA put our program on probation for three years, along with the men’s basketball team, after the school reported itself for rules violations, because various members of the coaching staffs had made “impermissible” phone calls and sent too many text messages to recruits—more than the rules allowed. In my case specifically, it was a minor violation for the coaches to talk about the Baylor program, in any way, when I attended that summer camp, even though I had asked them questions. It was also a violation for Kim to sit next to my dad during AAU games and talk about life as a Baylor athlete, even after I had verbally committed to the school. I could easily