DeMya Walker never eases into a situation. As she likes to say, that would be sooooooo boring. She favors a more stylish entrance, with her stiletto heels tapping the hardwood, the one-liners flying off her glossy lips, and the on-court theatrics sure to follow.
You can always hear her coming.
Now you can hear her coming back.
Walker, the gifted power forward who missed most of these last two seasons with serious injuries to her right knee, has rushed back to help the Monarchs squeeze into a sixth consecutive WNBA playoff appearance. And if this sounds risky, controversial and reminiscent of the Chris Webber saga, it is all of that, with one notable difference.
Before yanking on her uniform, she reached a gentleman's/gentlewoman's agreement with general manager John Whisenant and coach Jenny Boucek. Her minutes would be limited. Her role would be that of a reserve. Her conditioning and contributions – and the final scores – would dictate the rest.
"I still worry that this is the wrong decision," said Whisenant. "Her conditioning isn't great. She needs to lose another 10-12 pounds. Her body is too soft. But she wanted to play so badly. How do you ask someone with such a short career life cycle not to give it a shot?"
You don't. They didn't. They made a rational move. They control the minutes and, not insignificantly, aren't influenced by any bloated long-term contract. If Walker succeeds, they have their player back. If she falters, well, she did help the Monarchs to a title in 2005, so they owe her something.
Mostly, there was that. Walker's need to know. Nothing in the WNBA is guaranteed, not even a next season. These last four years alone, the one-time All-Star has been unavailable for extended periods with a right knee cartilage injury (2005), the birth of her daughter (2006), the torn right patellar tendon that cost her almost all of last season and, most recently, the fractured right kneecap in April that also required surgery and sidelined her for four months.
The accumulation of scar tissue clearly presents a grainy, undeniably grim image. If the knee buckles again, Walker, 30, limps away for good. She takes out a loan and enrolls in law school.
"You can't play basketball forever," she said, "and I've always been kind of a fearless person. Once the doctors cleared me, I was like, 'Go for it!' My only concern was wondering whether I could still contribute and making sure I didn't hurt the team.
"I'm a little demanding (laugh), as you know. I want the ball. And right now, I have to do the little things."
The mere thought of Walker tempering her boisterous personality causes her to wince. Subtle she is not. She announces her presence with an agile, intuitive defense and slithery post moves seemingly borrowed from Kevin McHale, and with demonstrative gestures and revealing facial expressions that are all DeMya. "Everybody knows me now," Walker said, laughing. "We're all sisters."
Whether she ever again resembles the graceful 6-foot-3, 170-pound athlete of past years remains to be seen. The effort is there, but the early returns are not encouraging: Two games, 14 total minutes, a knee that swelled and had to be drained. She is expected to play in the final two home games.
"You can't worry about getting hurt," she insisted. "If I work hard and can't play, I'm OK with that. But don't ever tell me I can't do something. I'll still try."
Call The Bee's Ailene Voisin, (916) 321-1208.
