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My Take Suddenly, Our Little Season Ended
Chasity Melvin, a leading contender for the ABL's rookie of the year award
before the league's shutdown on Dec. 22, was a teammate and friend of
23-year-old Katrina Price, who died of an apparently self-inflicted
shotgun wound on Jan. 18 in Nacogdoches, Texas. Melvin shares her memories of
Price and their abruptly curtailed rookie season with the Philadelphia Rage.
KP and I became friendly at the 1996 USA Basketball trials because we had a
couple of things in common: We both came from small towns -- she lived in
Nacogdoches, and I was from Roseboro, N.C. -- and big families. I had two
brothers and two sisters, and KP had eight sisters (whom she talked about all
the time). What really made us close was that we had both been stars in college
but often found ourselves sitting on the bench in the pros. KP was the alltime
leading scorer at Stephen F. Austin and had led her team to the NCAAs every
year. I had gone to the Final Four in 1998 with North Carolina State. But in the
pros we both had a lot to prove. I was playing more than KP, but I needed her to
push me in practice, and she needed me to do the same for her. We wanted to show
everyone that we could play.
KP didn't talk to a lot of people, but she hit it off with me and La'Keisha
Frett, a second-year player. The three of us would play video games, shop, catch
movies and just hang out. KP was cool. If you asked her to do something for you,
she would, no question. But we were pretty different personalitywise. I was the
crazy one and she was the sane one. I liked to make fun of the fact that we were
spending so much time on the bench by saying stuff like, "Let's order some
nachos." And she'd say, "Chasity, you silly dog!" Then she would
tease me about my Kodak All-America award, saying, "Well, you aren't
Academic All-America," like she
was.
Suddenly, our little season ended. After the ABL folded, we never got together
as a team again, but I did see KP one more time. The night before we all left
Philadelphia, KP, Frett and I were at KP's house packing while my little brother
videotaped everything. "What are you going to do now?" he asked us. KP
said she might go back to school, might go overseas, might try to help the
Stephen F. Austin team. Sure, KP was worried about making the WNBA, but no
more so than the rest of us. I'm sure all the players were depressed when we got
home -- I know I was. KP and I had just gotten used to the pros, to Philly, to
making pretty good money. To have it all end so abruptly -- it's hard to
describe how I felt, but I was glad my mom and dad were there for
me.
My agent found me a spot overseas, and I left for Vigo, Spain, on Jan. 12. I had
called KP and left a message saying I'd phone from Spain. But before I got the
chance, a college friend gave me the news: KP was gone. I kind of went crazy for
a while. I cried, I read Scripture, and I prayed because I couldn't sleep. I
really wish I could have gone to the funeral to meet KP's family and to see
Nacogdoches, which she had bragged about so often. I still think, Gosh, I wish I
could have
called.
To this day Frett and I cannot believe she's gone. When we try to figure out
what went through KP's mind, we keep coming back to how we felt after the league
folded -- how we were depressed but how we both had our parents to reassure
us. KP's parents had passed away. Maybe having a parent's shoulder to cry on is
one of those things you take for granted, until the day you need it and don't
have
it.
When I think about KP now, I try not to dwell on those last days. Instead, I
remember picking her up when she got down, telling her, "KP, our time will
come." And despite my sorrow, I try to laugh, because that's what KP and I
did together: We had fun. Even when we were sitting on the
bench.
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