Don't Let the Lipstick Fool You

by Lisa Leslie

  My job was to shoot the basketball and score as many points as possible. If I missed a shot, my teammates were supposed to grab the rebound and get the ball back to me so I could shoot again. Morningside put on a full-court press from the opening tip to try to force South Torrance into turning the ball over. That strategy worked really well for us. I stayed at half-court, and when one of our players would steal the ball, they would throw it to me. I would dribble into the frontcourt, take it down the middle, and hit a jump shot. Or I would drive the lane and nail a jumper from the side. South Torrance would get the ball back and do their thing. Even if they scored, once Morningside got the basketball back, we would bring it up the court, call a play for me, and I would shoot and score. A lot of times I would go in, score, get fouled, and shoot free throws. I was on fire!

  It was almost like I could not miss. I was making shots from everywhere on the court. With the help of my teammates, I scored forty-nine points in the first quarter and another fifty-two points in the second quarter. It was crazy. I made twenty-seven of thirty-five free throw attempts before intermission, and Morningside was winning 102 to 24. When the horn sounded to end the first half, our fans went crazy. They were shouting and cheering as we headed off to the locker room for a team huddle. I took a second to glance up at the scoreboard and was stunned by what I saw. “Dang,” I said out loud. “All those points but one are mine!” (Sherrell Young was the player who scored the only other point. She missed her first free throw attempt on purpose, mistakenly thinking that I was supposed to score every point for our team. Coach Scott chided her, and Sherrell sank her second free throw try.)

  The Monarchs’ fans were anxious for the second half to get started. There was a buzz swirling round the gym. Everybody knew that I was closing in on Cheryl Miller’s national high school record. Back in the 1981–82 season, she scored 105 points for Riverside Poly High School in a game against Norte Vista. I was only four points away from tying, and five points away from breaking, the U.S. record, and we still had another half of basketball to play. I figured, No problem. At the rate I was going, I felt like I could have scored two hundred points that night.

  Coach Scott looked at me at halftime and said, “Lisa, we are beating this team pretty badly. I want you to break Cheryl’s record, but after you score one hundred six points, I’ll take you out.”

  I said, “Okay, but why, Coach Scott?”

  He said, “Enough is enough! Just break the record, and you’ll sit out the rest of the game.”

  I told him, “Okay.” I figured that must be the right thing to do.

  Our Morningside squad walked back onto the court for the second half, but the South Torrance team was packing up and getting ready to leave. Some of them were already walking out the door. One of the Spartans’ players had fouled out in the first half, and the word in the gym was that one other player did not want to play anymore, because the game was so far out of reach. South Torrance High was going to forfeit the game. They were not going to play the second half.

  Wait! What about my shot at the record?

  I walked across the court to where their coach, Mr. Gilbert Ramirez, was getting ready to leave. I asked him, “Sir, would you please put your team back on the court to finish the game?”

  He was obviously frustrated by the situation and more than a little upset, but Coach Ramirez kindly answered, “No, Lisa. You are a great player. I wish you a lot of luck. I am going to cheer for you when you get to college, but we are going to leave.”

  I was really disappointed, but I told him, “Okay.”

  When the South Torrance team left the gym, the referee assessed them two technical fouls. One “T” went against Coach Ramirez, and the other “T” went against the Spartans’ team for leaving the gym before the game was over. Two technical fouls equaled four free throw attempts for Morningside, and I just happened to need four points to tie Cheryl Miller’s record. Coach Scott sent me onto the court to shoot the free throws.

  So with the opposing team no longer in the building and the game essentially over, I had four free throws to take to tie the record, and I had to make them all. I was all alone on the basketball court. My teammates were on the sideline. The fans were on their feet, and everyone was watching me.

  To say the least, I was very nervous when I stepped up to the free throw stripe. The packed gym went completely silent as I went into my usual routine. I flipped the ball, dribbled it three times, launched my shot, and made sure that I followed through. My first attempt swished in. Cheers rang out through the gym. Then, quickly, everybody went, “Sshhh! Sshhh!” They wanted quiet so I could concentrate.

  The second attempt was good, and the crowd roared once again. I needed two more points to reach 105. My third free throw had everybody on edge. The shot was a little bit off line as it flew toward the rim. It did not feel right when the ball left my hand, and when it bounced on the iron, I could sense the crowd leaning with me, rooting for me, and trying to will that basketball into the bucket. Whatever they did, it worked, and when the ball dropped in, a relieved cheer went up from the stands. I was at 104 points and counting.

  Just one more to go. Did I feel the pressure on my final attempt? Of course, I did. Did I know the significance of the moment? Absolutely. The cheers faded to a nervous buzz and then to complete silence again as I stepped to the line for the potential record-tying free throw.

  Flip…

  Dribble, dribble, dribble…

  Shoot…

  Follow through…

  Swish!

  HISTORY!

  I made it. My final attempt went cleanly through the net. I did it, and I was very happy and very relieved. Coach Scott said to reporters that when the last free throw went in, “It was business as usual for Lisa. Just Lisa being Lisa. It was no big deal to her.”

  He was right. I knew I had accomplished something special, but I did not jump or shout or pump my fist to celebrate. I had expected to make those free throws. That was what all the hard work and practice were about. All the drills, repetitions, and extra hours in the gym were designed to prepare me, physically and mentally, to blot out the bad memories of that missed final shot in the 1988 state championship game, and give me the confidence to succeed in any pressure-packed situation.

  The Monarchs’ fans thought my accomplishment was a pretty huge deal. The gym went crazy after I scored point number 105. Morningside High was silent no longer, and people stormed onto the court. My sister Dionne led the way with my Mom and Tiffany following onto the floor to give me a hug. I got mobbed. The fans were ecstatic. They had just seen history made. Move over, Cheryl Miller. Make room at the top for Lisa Leslie.

  The 101 points that I scored in the first half gave me a U.S. high school record of my own. I did not have to share that one with anybody except my teammates. Without them, I would never have had a chance to reach those milestones.

  I made twenty-seven field goal attempts in that game against South Torrance High School, and I earned thirty-one points from the free throw line. Coach Scott still says that of all the great accomplishments that evening, the most impressive was my canning those four technical free throws, with every eye in the building trained on me and the high school record on the line. I will never forget that feeling. I persevered. I shut out the world for a few seconds and got the job done.

  It was a great evening, but when it was over for me, it was over. I did not think a whole lot about it. After the game, I went to the movies with my boyfriend of two years, Eric. Eric was an athlete, too. He was on the basketball and baseball teams as a freshman at California State University at Los Angeles. We were a good couple until I found out he was still seeing his ex-girlfriend. Then I had to cut him loose. Still, for years after I dumped him, he cheered for me at my college games…and later dated one of my college teammates.

  After Eric dropped me off at home that night, the phone was ringing off the hook. Everybody was calling, including the local television stations. They all wanted to get
tape of the game so they could run highlights on the news. I guess I did not know the importance of what I had done or the impact that it would have. It was as if I was in shock. I had no idea what to say, so I told everybody to call Coach Scott.

  The next morning, at school, I was summoned to the nurse’s office. I saw Coach Scott when I got there, and he told me, “Lisa, you have a lot of interviews set up. You won’t be going to any more classes today.”

  The TV stations were all coming to interview me. News vans were outside the school. Reporters had crowded into the gym and were stationed at various points around the court. There were lights, cameras, and plenty of action in there. I walked in and worked my way around the room, going from radio people to television to newspapers and magazines. I shared my story and gave my account of the game to reporter after reporter. It seemed endless.

  While I was in the middle of the media madness, word came down that CIF was not going to recognize my 105 points that had tied the record. According to league officials, when the South Torrance High team left the gym, they forfeited the game. No technical fouls should have been called, and no free throws should have been taken. The game was officially over at that point, with the final score at 102–24. So, instead of getting 105 points, my performance was marked down to 101 points, and I no longer owned a piece of the national record.

  Once that news got out, all the reporters wanted to know if I was disappointed or upset about falling short of Cheryl’s mark. I told them that I was happy to set the record for one half and thrilled to be considered in the same company as Cheryl Miller and Wilt Chamberlain, both prominent members of the 100-point club. I thought it was great. I know that I smiled a lot, and tons of photos were taken. Then, when it seemed to be over, I was taken back to the nurse’s office to do more radio interviews. In all, I did twenty-three radio interviews with stations all across the country. I was so busy that they had to bring lunch to me in the nurse’s office.

  In less than twenty-four hours, my entire life had changed. I was excited, but I still did not understand why I was getting so much attention over one game. All of a sudden I was on the news every hour, my story was in the newspapers, and Sports Illustrated wanted to visit with my family and me. It was overwhelming.

  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.