Читать книгу Don't Let The Lipstick Fool You: - Lisa Leslie - Страница 7

“The United States of America!” blared over the public address system, and the eighty-three thousand fans packed in Centennial Olympic Stadium went wild. They were all there to see the opening ceremony of the 1996 Summer Olympic Games, and since we were in Atlanta, most of the crowd was from the United States.

The fans got to their feet and applauded, cheered, whistled, and chanted, “USA! USA!” as our team marched into the stadium. I will never forget this day: July 19. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. I had worked so many years to get to this point, and now I was representing my country as a member of the U.S. women’s basketball team. I could not stop smiling.

The sights and sounds in Centennial Olympic Stadium were incredible. There were so many people, so many lights and colors. I had never seen that many American flags, and it took my breath away. Our U.S. contingent was just a fraction of the more than ten thousand athletes who were there to participate in the opening ceremony and compete on the world’s greatest stage. I was living a dream, and walking into the arena gave me goose bumps. The men’s and women’s basketball teams walked in together, and beside me were NBA superstars Shaquille O’Neal, Reggie Miller, David Robinson, and Karl Malone. But many other athletes I admired were in my line of sight, too: American track stars Carl Lewis, Gail Devers, and Michael Johnson; tennis greats Andre Agassi and Lindsay Davenport; and famed boxer Floyd Mayweather, Jr. Everywhere I turned, there was another familiar face. Clearly, I was in elite company in an incredibly unique atmosphere, and I was soaking it all in. A lot of the athletes were snapping pictures or shooting video to capture the very special moments. I did not have a camera, but I was so busy taking in the sights that I am not sure I would have remembered to take a picture, anyway.

All the U.S. women athletes wore white silk tops, red blazers, and long, blue, poodle-style skirts. We topped it off with red, white, and blue scarves; white hats, which we wore tipped to the side; and these horrible blue shoes with little heels. We looked like we had stepped straight out of the 1940s, but for this occasion, it worked. I waved to the crowd enthusiastically, laughing with my new friends and enjoying my first Olympic experience. Then my right shoe fell off.

I had to grab onto Karl Malone to keep from falling down. I stretched my leg back and managed to find the shoe and get my toes in it, but everyone around me was still moving, and I had to drag my shoe behind me. As I tried to keep pace and avoid getting trampled in the massive traffic jam of people, I could see the headline already: U.S. OLYMPIAN INJURED IN OPENING CEREMONY STAMPEDE.

But finally, I was able to squeeze my foot into the wayward shoe and continue my stroll around the stadium with the other athletes. I felt awkward and goofy, but relieved and slightly exhilarated. Only I could lose my shoe on live television, with the whole world watching. I laughed out loud at myself for the slipup but also at the irony. My image as a graceful athlete seemed to be still intact. But I was quickly reminded of the less-than-graceful uphill climb that led me to this moment. This made me smile even wider.