Undrafted

"There are over 400,000 NCAA student-athletes, and just about all of us will be going pro in something other than sports."

SO YOU'RE SAYING I HAVE A CHANCE?!

I used to scoff at that commercial.

Why? 

My dad played in the NBA. He did it.

I was recruited by almost every school in the nation. I did it.

I'm going pro.

I'm one of a kind.

I'm the best there ever was.

I'm currently working at the JW Marriott.

As a cocktail waitress.

My get-up

I know what you're thinking.

She's hit rock bottom.

Not so fast! I now know the difference between Kettle One and Tito's.

Swimming knee deep in chardonnays and pinos? Let me enlighten you on the difference between which have been locally fermented in the vineyards of Napa, and which have been imported from the sprawling countrysides of Italy.

And don't get me started on our seasonal raspberry mules and summer shandys!  

After graduation my aunt, uncle, and 3 precious little cousins took me out to dinner. They flew all the way out to California from Florida to support me on my big day. They were staying at an airbnb in Venice Beach. One of their buddies owned it.

My Florida fam is super outdoorsy. They're the version of myself I still hope to become. They surf. They sail. They're musically inclined.

With that being said, I was hoping to wow them with my surfing prowess that afternoon. I strapped my board to the top of my car and met them in Venice. 

The airbnb was beautiful. A two-story beach house a block from the water. The owner and his wife, Imen, were amazing. Imen is now my manager. At the JW Marriott.

Long story long, she convinced me to give the hotel business a shot. I could tell how much she loved her job the way she lit up when she talked about it.

Was I missing something here?

Is the food and beverage department in the hospitality industry the secret to happiness???

7 days and a 70-hour work week later I can tell you that it's...

Not exactly what I thought it was going to be.

But it has taught me so much so quickly.

I really do take pleasure in a 4-star beachfront resort overlooking the water. It's quite lovely serving guests in the beautiful California sunshine.

And the people! I've made a myriad of friends from all walks of life. Some of the most humble, hardworking, nose-to-the-grindstone co-workers I think I'll ever have.

Plus, I'm making some cash monnnaayyy if youknowwhaimsayyyin.

____________

My lease ends in a month.

College is over.

For those of you who know me, you know I can't sit still. I have to be doing something. If I'm not, I drive myself crazy. And yes, sometimes sitting on my butt not doing anything is something and I'm okay with that. But I have a limit. If the limit is exceeded, I lose my cool.

So, why not take up bartending?

Why not dive into an area totally untapped by my cerebral cortex and give it a shot?

I mean I did graduate from UCLA. How hard could it be?

It's been the hardest 7 days of my life. Just ask my roommates. They've seen me at my worst. That's if they see me. 

I leave at 9am and get home at 9pm, battling traffic to & fro.

Then I eat dinner.

Then I shower.

Then I go to bed.

Then I wake up and do it all over again.

____________

My head coach at UCLA offered me a part-time job working for UCLA athletics.

This was before my newfound gig as "diner girl."

My role would be to emcee basketball games, create behind-the-scenes videos with athletes, and--within the confines of women's basketball--dabble in broadcast television. 

After basketball season ended I got an internship at Wasserman. It's a world-renowned sports agency, one that represents some of the best clientele in the world.

Russell Westbrook was a frequent visitor.

One evening at the office I took the elevator down with him and took him to get his car washed. That internship was cool.

Two weeks ago, I was camp director for the UCLA basketball camps and had to consistently kick off the Los Angeles Sparks, Kanye West, Real Madrid, and Kyrie Irving from the practice courts. 

Only at UCLA.

Two days ago, I had an interview at CBS in Los Angeles. I met with the GM. The same GM who was my mom's GM when she worked for CBS in Dallas.

This morning I found out I got the part and will be cast in an Under Armour commercial.

Sounds a little more "Nicole", am I right?

These are the kinds of opportunities I regurgitate to people when they ask me what I want to do for the rest of my life.

But what people don't know is that I haven't said yes to any of them. 

(Except for the Under Armour commercial because that's just flat-out sick).

It's been two months since Coach Cori offered me the job and I haven't said yes.

Coach, I know you're reading this and I know you're wondering what I'm about to say next.

I don't know if I want to do it.

I don't know if I want to stay in California.

One day I do. And the next day I don't.

I love this city with all of my heart. We all know this. We're all annoyed by this.

But facts are facts-- my rent is $1200 for a single bedroom and I live with 4 other girls. 

No AC, no dishwasher, a broken microwave, squeaky floors, zero closet space, and the funniest lookin' half bath that you ever did see.

All 1 sq. ft. of it

But boy let me tell you.

10985 Roebling Ave. will live on forever.

I had the best year of my life in that apartment. 

From L to R, back to front:

Sangria, Dom, The Protestant, Mom, Graham, and me

But everything boils down to one question:

What next?

After my fourth day in a row at the Marriott, I was reaching a breaking point.

I'm not supposed to be a part of that 400,000 who goes pro in something other than sports. And last time I checked, bartending doesn't even qualify me under the 400,000 who do. I'm in a category all by myself.  

____________

Day 4 of work:

8:15am

Wake up, roll over, hit stop, lazily get out of bed.

"Here we go again."

The glamorous real world. Hitting me square in the face.

An hour later, I clock in.

Time to fill up ice buckets, wipe down sticky countertops, and fold napkins.

Time to roll up my sleeves and serve the good-good.

After finding a spare minute to continue my newfound talent in the art of origami, commonly referred to as napkin folding, crease by crease and linen by linen my hope for a better future felt unattainable. That was until a sudden cloud of darkness enveloped me. It was a figure. Part man. Part beast.

It was Steven Adams holding a liter of organic milk. 

"Will you put this on the rocks for me, my love?"

Many of you know Allen Iverson is my go-to guy. The wind beneath my wings. The bread to my butter. The fairy to my tale.

After yesterday, Steven Adams became one gangly mustache hair away from taking the crown.

The Oklahoma City Thunder were checking into the JW Marriott on Ocean Ave. 

My JW Marriott on Ocean Ave.

As my Oklahoma born and bred counterparts know, Billy Donovan is head coach.

Billy left Florida Luke's sophomore year. So he was very familiar with the Gator-killer himself, Luke Francis Kornet.

Billy & his wife sat down for lunch.

Steven Adams and his darling New Zealand lad did too.

Kyle Singler, Enes Kanter, and Andre Roberson went off to explore the pier.

The Thunder stayed for 3 days and 2 nights.

Never have I been more excited to wake up for my 10-hour work days.

I became really close with Steven, Coach Donovan, and fellow Sooner, Chris Condit, after their short stay.

The guys would roll in after their morning workouts and Steven would shout out in the middle of the lobby, "NICOOOOLLLLEEEE, I'M BAAAAAAAAAACK."

How fast I fell for that Grizzly Adams-looking man.

Coach Donovan was the last one to check out on Thursday.

Before leaving, he made eye contact with me and motioned me over to him.

"Now don't forget to tell your family I said hi, okay? Promise me you'll tell them."

15 minutes later he offered me a front office job for the Thunder.

20 minutes later he gave me the contact information of Matt Bonner's sister, Becky.

Becky works for "Basketball Without Borders."

She travels around the world with NBA athletes and teams and helps organize camps, fundraisers, and global networking events. She's currently with KD in India. Next is Russ in China. Imagine that.

So there I was in my little black dress and vans, laughing to myself at the fact that this crazy cocktail gig of mine landed me to this notion:

I might move back to Oklahoma.

I don't know what I'll do next, but I do know that my lease is up in one month, I have a couple of job offers up my sleeve, and I will blog allllllll about it.

P.s. I hope I didn't lure you into thinking this article was going to be about Luke. So glad you read, though!

The Draft

Four years ago I was driving Luke and recently-christened NBA Champion Damian Jones around in my dad’s mondo Nissan Armada. Luke was fiddling through Maps (the app) (not the foldable kind) (millennials) trying to navigate his and Dame’s way to their first college class at Vanderbilt. Damian was as shy and polite as could be, and Luke, as always, was fearlessly taking charge.

Some things never change.

“Left, Nicole. No right. Heck, just drop us off here. We’ll be better off walking.”

Four years ago back when I was the favorite child, before NBA-potential Luke, I was fresh off my first season at OU. 

Buddy Hield and I were freshman that year. 

As I sat peering over at Luke’s gangly limbs as he barked commands at me from shotgun, I could barely fathom the idea that this was really happening.

“There's no way Luke can hang with these guys,” I quietly thought to myself.

Four years later, the now 7’2” (mhmm) (I said it) (“I measured 7’1” without shoes and 7'2 and 3/8” in them Nicole") (so yes, 7’2” with shoes) little brother of mine is the all-time leader of this, that, and the other at Vanderbilt.

As it turns out, he could hang with those guys.

Yesterday was my older brother John’s birthday. You heard correctly. I have another brother, and his name is John, and he secretly puts Luke & me to shame.

He’s the pretty one in the family.

I’ve been hoarding Southwest vouchers throughout my travels this year, and racked up enough to fly Johnny boy out to LA for his big day. It just so happened that Luke would be in LA too, working out for the Lakers.

The timing could not have been any more perfect.

Over the weekend a few things dawned on me. 

1.) I love John William and Luke Francis with all of my heart.

2.) The NBA draft is next week. 

3.) I am in a pickle.

Let’s begin with #1.

My family is extremely close. Yes, closeness typically has a positive connotation; but with closeness also comes filter-free criticism, opinions, and the cold, hard truth.

That, I think, is my favorite part about the Kornet family, or should I say Kornet men. My mother merely married into it and had to quickly come to bear the brunt of this so-called “tough love,” or else she would have crumbled at 22, the age she wed my father.

“Nicole, run a comb through your hair.”

“John, shoot like your sister.”

“Luke, go pick up Copper’s poop. Now.”

Gotta love it. Whether it comes from John, Luke, my dad, or my mom, there’s no way to sugar-coat the love language of the Kornet’s.

Aside from what may come across as harsh and insensitive to most, many amazing, caring, sentimental, thoughtful, sacrificial qualities abundantly reside in the hearts of my family as well. I simply won’t bore you with those incidentals at this time.

I’ll just leave it at this—

My mom used to ask other parents if it was normal that all three of her children would rather stay at home and watch Rocky IV with their father instead of go out with their friends on a Saturday night.

The fact of the matter is, we love hanging out together. All five of our unique personalities really make for a special bond. 

Point #2:

The NBA draft is on June 22^nd.

The whole family will be coming together under one roof—aunts, uncles, cousins, and close friends included.

Come the 22^nd Luke will have had worked out for 14 NBA teams.

That's a lot.

Especially for one whose name can't easily be found within the top 60 in most mock drafts.

Some have him at 67, some have him at 44, some have him at 60 on the dot.

For one, don’t believe everything you read on the Internet. Mock drafts are like chat rooms. Coaches and GM’s don’t create them; shoe companies do. 

I sound like a bitter ex-wife here, but I promise I have my sources.

To put it frankly, Luke has a very good chance of getting drafted. There's also a very good chance he doesn’t.

Insightful, I know.

I’m not allowed to disclose everything to you all, because my father said so. I have the power to share as much as I please; but if I share any more dirt, Luke might kill me.

Dirt, as in Luke has tri’s now and can all of a sudden move like a guard, and splashes long-range J’s like Jesus Shuttlesworth, and can slam jam tomahawk between-the-legs flush it, and hasn't stopped impressing coach after coach who regurgitates lines such as "You're climbing up the draft boards, son," thus affirming us common sense people who know his potential that he hasn't even scraped the surface and that his best days are ahead of him, and that story after story the boy shares is about how his under-the-radar self wows whoever is working him out, such as coaches witnessing him mark the best shooting performance of the draft class in one workout or clocking the second best all-time 3-minute shuttle run in another, but like I said, I will not share any of those things in fear of a severe talkin’ to from the Kornet men after doing so without permission.

Sorry not sorry

Point #3:

I’m in a pickle.

In one week I will be a free woman.

Free from 10-page papers, midterms, all-nighters, and two-hour seminars.

Free from constructing expense reports, answering phone calls, creating spreadsheets, restocking copy paper, and hightailing my high heels through the Hollywood Hills during lunch break.

As much as I have enjoyed my time at Wasserman, I will soon be relinquished of my intern duties.

As much as I have enjoyed my time at UCLA, I will no longer be a student there.

As much as I love California, I will no longer have a scholarship check to pay for my outrageous rent.

None of these things will stop me from fulfilling my lifelong dreams, of course. But as I’ve grown up, my dreams sorta have too.

California is my happy place.

But the Kornet family is, too.

My life is about to dramatically change in the upcoming months. It already has in many ways; but as soon as school ends, the floodgates of uncertainty are really about to drown me.

Do I try and pursue a TV career in California, and survive off of Top Ramen and thrift stores? Or do I head back home, start in a smaller market, and seek counsel from my mother?

Do I go into broadcasting, or do I take the wild and crazy plunge and pursue a professional basketball career overseas? (Despite my past denials of the sort.)

Do I accept the part-time position my coach has offered me at UCLA--the position of my dreams yet requires me to work two shifts a day in order to make ends meet--or do I find a more stable source of income in order to live more comfortably?

Do I move again like I always do, or do I stay put in my makeshift California home and continue to grow the relationships that have changed my life these past two years?

The bottom line is this: I have to have an income in order to pay my rent, put food on the table, and indulge in my favorite, frozen chocolate-covered bananas.

As you can tell, I’m in a pickle.

Someone once told me, “You don’t get to make choices in life. Life makes choices for you.”

I had a hard time believing this for a while. But as I’ve grown up, I've personally 

experienced this truth.

In one week I’ll have my answer. In one week the decision will be made for me. In one week life as I've known it will change.

And I couldn’t be more excited to see what God reveals, what doors God opens up, and where my little brother and I will be headed next because of it.

As always,

God bless, Anchor Down, Go Bruins, and Go Tigers

(John was a Tiger)

I'm Big in China

"Can I kiss you?"

Proclaimed one little boy as I stepped foot outside of the locker room.

Doesn't matter if you're black, white, tall, or small go to China and you'll have suitors at your beck and call.

As long as you look like you come from the red, white, and blue (the Canadians were frequently mistaken) the people of Asia will be enthralled by you.

Come to be crowned "quasi-celebrities," we Americans instantly realized our pre-pubescent, dream-like fantasies were coming to fruition-- we were Hollywood heartthrobs.

No more secretly hiding that "nose scratch" of yours. Your gold-digging tactics will soon be shared nationwide if you're not careful.

Our entourage 

Life overseas... takes a man, baby.

One is inextricably sown to any and/or every American one happens to come into contact with while across the pond. I feel as if I'm bonded for life to the girls I lived these past two weeks with, especially after an adventure such as the one I am about to describe to you in vivid detail. 

After fourteen days enduring cauldrons full of mystery meat, I have chosen to provide detailed descriptors in lieu of showing you all the grotesque, life-like delicacies themselves. 

Savory black fungus, fried fish skin, and crisp duck tongue to name a few. Versions of non-vommitable protein quickly became a hot commodity due to the lack thereof.

 Breakfast, lunch & dinner

Aside from the food, another particular issue hit home with me. 

China, the communist country, ain't so communist after all. While abroad, one of my dear friends and Jesus-loving fiends made it her duty to do just that-- love Jesus. 

Before I took off, my father urged me to go to confession before it was time to leave the U.S.

"You won't be able to go to church for two weeks straight. There aren't any Catholic Churches in China. So get your butt to confession while you still can."

Gotta love him.

Back to my Jesus-loving friend. We all know it's Kari I'm talking about, so let me refer to her as her most-fitting title in order to spare us all the frequency of her mentions in my blog.

My Jesus-loving friend made it her duty to spread the Christian spirit every day. In fact, she stayed up late most nights using Google translator in order to figure out the correct Kanji necessary to spell out the phrase "Jesus loves you." She wanted to pass these little slips of paper around to the Chinese athletes we played, the pedestrians in the streets, the extremely creative, talented, multi-dimensional Chinese culinary chefs, and anyone else she could possibly whisk away with her piercing eye contact.

She'll be canonized as a saint any day now.

The moral of the story is-- Kari didn't go to jail. One of our translators even said there are free-standing Christian churches found throughout China. You just have to look a little harder for them.

China has come a long way. 

Which brings me to point #1.

Point #1:

Stereotypes suck.

Yes, their driving may be lackluster. Okay, lackluster may be too kind of verbiage. Perhaps "chaotic" is the right word. But it's not their fault. That's how they've been taught in China. Heck, I don't even think I can use that word either- "taught." Clearly not much teaching was going on in Driver's Ed.

There's only one rule of the road in China:

1.) There are no rules of the road.

Back to the stereotypes. Stop making them. Before coming to China, I was heavily surrounded by Chinese at UCLA. Approximately 32% of UCLA is made up of Asians. 

Immersing myself into the Chinese culture finally allowed me to understand why they do what they do, and how they do it.

So before you go making stereotypes about someone who doesn't look like you, walk like you, or dress like you, take the time to put yourself in their shoes. Even if they're 10 sizes too small. 

One of the main stereotypes I was guilty of forming myself prior to visiting China was the breathtakingly unpleasant, repugnant smell that so frequently grazed my nasal passages whenever coming into contact with most differing nation groups.

The smells. Man, the smells. 

As you can see, everything makes sense once taking the time to see how one lives, how one grows up, and how hard it must be for that certain someone to break certain habitual routines.

Sure, a little peer pressure never hurt nobody...when it comes to the discovery of deodorant. But for the most part, out with the stereotypes and in with the acceptance!

Point #2:

Love your neighbor as the Chinese.

You know that child-like faith you once had? Faith that everyone should be nice to you? Faith that everyone wants the best for you? Faith that everyone loves you?

That child-like faith resides in the Chinese. I'm convinced of it.

Peace resides in simplicity. The Chinese showed me that. 

Point #3:

Sports rock.

Before I left, my mom couldn't help but laugh at the striking parental resemblance. 

My mom left for Tokyo to become a backup singer and dancer for a Japanese pop-star (I know, right) (who does that?) (Tracy Kornet) (that's who) at this exact same stage in her life (age 23), while my dad left the NBA for Europe just a few years after. 

And there I was-- off to Asia like my mother, playing ball like my dad.

Coming into this experience, I thought of myself as a somewhat disciplined, dedicated individual. But then I met the Chinese. Team China was a well-oiled, fine-tuned machine. That's why it took us two games to beat them. The way each and every girl listened to their coach, nodded their heads in unison, and not once spoke out of line inspired me. 

Too often I put myself above others, thinking I'm the one who deserves the starting spot, or play-call for the last second shot, but the Chinese silenced those ill-willed thoughts immediately. They made me feel embarrassed for even having them.

You can always be better. You are always replaceable. You should never stop growing.

Thank you Team China for communicating to me, despite the language barrier, how to be a woman of action, respect, dignity, and honor.

Not only was I fortunate enough to learn from other countries, but I was able to learn just as much, if not more, from the myriad personalities showcased on our very own Team USA.

Best part of it all was that all four countries were able to come together to do something we all know how to do very well-- play.

Even if it took a less than lovely, round-a-bout way of doing so.

Even if it took a few, or nine, unscheduled, self-manufactured, off-hours a day.

I got to fly halfway across the world in order to represent my country. And let me tell you, we did one heck of a job representing it.

Gold medal good.

Introducing to you all, two ringless seniors who got to take a little hardware back to the homeland and proudly say,

God bless the USA!    

Me 

(& Kari)

Bloopers:

Until next time, China. Signing off and signing out, Nicole Kornet.