BALLER FROM BULGARIA // a UCONN story

7. Media Madness and a few grains of rice

Media day had come around, and I was less than thrilled about it. Before, I knew it would be a part of my new life, and I had made peace with feeling uncomfortable for a day. But now, I was feeling sick to my stomach, terrified about any and all questions I might get.

To my surprise, the morning was a lot of fun. I was wearing my new jersey, with my compression shirt obviously, and had my hair down in waives, with a small braid on one side. The pictures were less awkward than I thought they were going to be, as my teammates were hyping me up behind the camera.

The rest of the morning, I played some games with teammates, while being asked some silly questions by producers. Not too bad.

After lunch, I had my first major interview scheduled. I sat down with a nice looking, brown haired woman in her early forties. She gave me a reassuring smile as I bumped my knee up and down a little.

At first, it was easy. The interviewer stuck to safe, simple questions about my transition to life in America, how it felt to be part of such a prestigious basketball program. The kind of questions you would expect to be asked to a freshman from Bulgaria. Nataliya had rehearsed the answers in her head, during her silent walks. 'It's been an adjustment,' the words rolling off her tongue, her accent pushed down by the amount of times she had practiced this. 'But my teammates and coaches have made it easier. I'm just focused on trying my best here.'

But soon, the questions began to shift.

'So Nataliya,' the interviewer started, leaning forward slightly, her tone casual as ever, 'You come from Bulgaria right? Grew up in an orphanage, if I'm not mistaken?'

My smile faltered. I couldn't say I was surprised. This was her job, to find an interesting perspective. A tragic one, if possible. 'Yes.' My voice a little tight. 'I did.'

'I can't imagine what that must have been like,' she continued, the sympathy in her voice sounding more performative than genuine. 'An orphanage in Bulgaria, with the lack funding they are dealing with... I've heard the conditions can be pretty rough. Strict rules, limited resources...'

My heart skips a beat. She doesn't know anything, she can't. She doesn't know about Boyan, the basement, the scars or anything that happened to her back 'home'. Still, her face burns. 'It wasn't always easy. But I'm more than my past, I am focused on my future here, at UCONN.' My tone was controlled, measured

The interviewer nodded, as if she agreed with her words, but I can see the way her eyes sharpened. She would do anything for a story. 'Of course, of course, but it must have been a hard way to grow up, without any family. Your last name suggests that they didn't know the names of your parents right? Do you think the time in the orphanage is going to affect the way you play the game?'

My jaw tighetend a little. I hate questions like this. As if her entire identity was based off of her not having parents or a stable life. 'Everyones past affects them in some way. I do think it is important to control how much it affects you, to make sure it can never control you.' A deep breath.

'And your parents? Do you think not knowing them is making you the person you are now?' the interviewer looks like a vulture, circling her, looking for any sign of weakness.

'It's true that the orphanage didn't know who my parents were,' I say, with a forced, but calm look on my face, 'that was difficult, of course, but maybe better than having to lose them. I suppose that it would contribute to who I am in some way, but I am not what happened to me. I am just focussed on basketball right now.'

The interviewer smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice just enough to feel conspiratorial, like she was about to ask something real. 'Speaking of focussing, Nataliya... there've been some photos circulationg recently. From last weekend. You were seen at the bar with some of your teammates, and, well... a nice young man in the photos with you.'