Carla McGhee has been there.
She battled back from a devastating car crash as a sophomore in college that left her in a coma. She played on two NCAA champions at the University of Tennessee. She's been a dominant, well-paid, but ultimately frustrated European professional.
The 6-2, 28-year-old power forward also has a future. She will be a cornerstone of whichever American women's pro league survives the sport's growing pains, and will always have a role as an articulate spokesman for women's basketball.
Right now, though, the past doesn't matter, and the future is far away. All McGhee wants to do is climb to the highest level of the podium in Atlanta this summer, and then lean down to have a gold medal draped around her neck.
`We're going to do whatever it takes to win the gold medal,' she says simply, and the assurance in her voice speaks as loud as the content. Of course, the 39-0 record the women's National Team has amassed in the past six months lends more than a little weight to her words, but McGhee knows all too well that those 39 wins and a dollar will buy her a lousy cup of coffee.
`We're going to have to look out for every team,' she says with the hard-won knowledge that comes from playing in four major international tournaments. `Everybody plays great against America.'
McGhee won't even single out a team that is more likely than the others to get in the way of her dream. `They're all tough,' she says, though one must take that bit of hyperbole with a truckload of garlic salt. If Zaire beats the United States in women's basketball this year, expect the sun to set in the east, rivers to flow uphill and Lisa Leslie to be less than immaculate.
And the last thing McGhee will look at after any win, even over Zaire, is the stat sheet. Her six points and four rebounds every game are quite a comedown from the 21 and 14 she averaged in Spain, but that's irrelevant to McGhee.
`We're not about individuals,' she says. `There might be times I might not come off the bench, but if we win the game it doesn't matter. The chemistry is there -- we've clicked since day one.'
Part of the reason for that teamwork is Tara VanDerveer. `She's a great coach,' says McGhee, but VanDerveer is also notable for pointing out flaws and mistakes in a less than gentle manner. `You have to be mature enough to take the criticism,' says McGhee. `There's not a lot of room for ``my way'' or ``your way''.'
But VanDerveer's methods obviously have worked, as 39 up and none down will attest.
`We're taught fundamentals,' says McGhee. `We're more finesse players.'
The next question is obvious: More than whom? The answer is equally clear: international players.
`They're more physical,' says McGhee. In fact, she flat-out says they're `dirty.'
They have elbows and know how to use them, they undercut drivers to the basket -- and they get protected by overseas officials.
`They see Americans as machines that can take a licking,' says McGhee of international refs -- but then she has to admit the style has its advantages for a 6-2 player who likes to go inside. `They let you play.'
Of course, the game is slightly different than the one Americans are accustomed to watching. The lane is wider, the three-point line is further away and the ball is bigger (the same size as the men's).
`I like the wider lane,' says McGhee. `It gives you more room to go one-on-one. You go from the wider lane to the narrower lane and it feels congested.'
But referees and rules are just details to McGhee. She's got one thing on her mind, and three more months to make it happen. Until then, the past is irrelevant, and the future is unimportant. She wants the gold -- and her own long road has taught her just how much it means.
