the knowing: emilee whittle-harmon on intuition, humility and the politics of age
I think I always knew I just needed to be seen. I believed in myself — not in a cocky way, but I knew I had done what I needed to do to get the opportunity and all I needed was that first chance.
Emilee Whittle-Harmon first told me her story in December of 2023. It was over the course of a morning. I listened, absorbed with the horror; alternatively crying quietly and then wondering whether it was not too late, each time there was another twist in the narrative, to pull out my phone to record. When Emilee finished, all I could do, beside from hug her, was lament the fact I had ultimately not turned on the tape. Her storytelling — grim, cogent, poetic — had not been preserved.
Ten months would pass before we managed to schedule a time for her to conjure all that emotion again. On that day, we collected, over four separate recordings, a total of almost two and a half hours worth of interview. It would be another five months before we would have the transcript edited and approved. One more before it was ready to be published.
Emilee’s experiences form a complex, harrowing story: one that navigates betrayal more than injury, belief more than recognition. It intersects brutally with ageism, gender and status. All athletes work hard. All athletes are resilient. Some, naturally, work harder and are more resilient than others but to compete in sport at an elite level ultimately requires at least a base level of both. Not all athletes are accountable. Not all athletes look first to assess themselves — their own actions and thoughts — before seeking an external source to blame. Along with being one of the hardest working and most resilient athletes I have ever met, Emilee Whittle-Harmon is also one of the most accountable. Her mentality is one of humility, pragmatism and strength. She has a perspective that not only any athlete, regardless of age, should hear, but any person.
Because despite all the layers of trauma, the breaches in her trust, her physical suffering, the mental anguish, her deep, lingering grief, Emilee’s resentment is still retrained. It is balanced. She remains compassionate. Her integrity endures.
It is why I changed initial plans to create a narrativised account of her story and instead am publishing the initial interview in full. All should read Emilee’s voice, verbatim.
This is the first in a three-part series.
EH: Where do you want to start?
Um. Anywhere you’d like.
EH: My first memories have me with a basketball in my hand. I started playing when I was like four or five. I had two older brothers, whom I looked up to, and the only way they’d let me hang out with them is if I could hold my own. So that’s what I learned to do. And I loved it. I loved who I got to be while playing. I was a shy kid: reserved, didn’t step out of line, wanted to please. But when I played I was allowed to be someone else. I got to be fierce. I got to be dominant. I got to be a leader. I could put the internal fire I held into something. It became my identity. And I know they say not to do that ... Not to let something fleeting become you. Not to be obsessed. Find balance. But I wouldn’t change a thing. The obsession was who I truly was. The obsession was authentic. I was my truest self when I was on a basketball court. It was peaceful and chaotic at the same time. Home. Free.
Let’s flick forward — past school, college, your first professional season spent in Ireland — to when you arrived here.
EH: My first year in Australia was 2014. I was signed in the SEABL, which is NBL1 now, and I was playing against athletes who played in the WNBL. I had heard about the national league, but I didn’t really know anything about it. When I recognised it was the highest level, it became the basis of everything I worked for. I was still an import, being American, so for about four years I would be in Australia for six months and then I’d go home to Ohio for the other six, where I would train and coach. When I met Amy in 2016, who later became my wife, I stayed.
Where did you play in Australia?
EH: All over in the SEABL. But the WNBL was my only goal. I offered to be a training player, to give my time for free. At one point, I was flying all over the country just to do tryouts. I tried out for the SEQ Stars when they were still a franchise, the Melbourne Boomers, Bendigo.
Was it a financial strain?
EH: Yes [laughs]. I paid for all those flights. Chasing dreams in basketball is not very financially rewarding. It’s a huge sacrifice on partners. Amy really helped support me. I wouldn’t have been able to pursue the goal without her. I think eventually I would have just given up. I was an import. I was fighting for two spots, not ten.
How was it mentally?
EH: It was a lot. Physically, too. I remember in 2015, when I was playing state league out in WA, we had a doubleheader but I had managed to organise a tryout, so after the second game I got on a red-eye from Perth to Melbourne then drove from Melbourne to Bendigo and tried out with their WNBL team, then flew back to Perth the next day because we had training.
Then?
EH: Nothing came of that. Nothing directly came of any of it. But then it was 2020 and everything shut down. Cheryl Chambers, the coach of Southside Flyers, needed players to train. I essentially became a training player with them before the hub. There were other players also having to drive across the Westgate to get to the stadium, but they were getting paid for it. For me, I was investing a lot of time and money just to come to practice. But I think I always knew, because of how hard I worked, I just needed to be seen and once I was seen I was going to get an opportunity. So when I was asked to be a training player at Southside, it was worth it. It was everything I was working towards. I decided I was going to go every day, to every session, even though I knew that because I was not a resident it probably wasn’t going to end up in a contract. I initially hoped that, maybe, because the league couldn’t bring in imports due to lockdown, if I did a really good job I might get an opportunity. But then the league came in with the no-import rule for the season which took that hope away.
What happened next?
EH: The team left for the hub. I stayed behind, training on my own. It was the first COVID year which was sort of a blessing in a way, because I had time I wouldn’t otherwise had. I could focus on basketball. I trialled at Wyndham for the state league season, but decided to leave because I was still ambitious to play WNBL. I was pulled, alone, into a room and told I would be the laughing stock of not only the club but the entire league if I didn’t make it.
Wait, who told you that?
EH: Gerard Hillier, who was both the head coach of the women’s program and the club’s player and coach development manager. I was employed as a coach at Wyndham, too, so Gerard was also my boss.1
You’re telling me you say thank you, Wyndham — whose senior program competes in the Big V — for the opportunity, but you are moving to a club that competes in the NBL1 to increase your chances of achieving your WNBL dream and that was what was said to you?
EH: Yes. Let’s just say my sporting ambitions were not the only reason I left. Luckily, I had the luxury to choose where to go with NBL1. I signed with Dandenong, and that decision was absolutely strategic, because I wanted to play for Southside; I thought it increased my chances if I trained out of the same stadium as them. It might get me seen more. I just believed in myself — not in a cocky way, but I knew I had done what I needed to do to get the opportunity, and all I needed was somebody to give me that first chance. I knew given the opportunity I was going to take advantage of it.
What was your season like at Dandenong?
EH: I was probably playing the best basketball of my career. A big part of that was due to Mason [Rogers]; he was really investing time to develop me. But that combined with COVID, and the fact everything was shut down. I got to invest in my body. We had a home gym and it’s funny what you do when you have the space and resources to become the best athlete you can. I had that time to do extra training. I had that time to do extra strength and conditioning. I had that time to work with Mason. I didn’t have to worry about balancing it with being on my feet for eight hours coaching kids, which was my source of income; rewarding but physically taxing. I got to take all the time usually spent on work and instead work on me. Timing wise, everything just fell into place.
I think I always knew, because of how hard I worked, I just needed to be seen and once I was seen I was going to get an opportunity. I believed in myself — not in a cocky way, but I knew I had done what I needed to do to get the opportunity, and all I needed was somebody to give me that first chance.
You’re essentially able to be a professional athlete?
EH: I was not getting paid to train, but I had the time to train. We had nothing but time during lockdown. The payments from the government were trying to get everyone by because the world was on hold. There was nothing else that had to grab my attention so I was able to put it into myself really.
Do you think your performances at NBL1 got you noticed by WNBL clubs?
EH: Yeah, I was pretty consistent. My points per game were in the twenties. Rebounds above ten. I was averaging double-doubles. There was one game in particular, though, where I knew Cheryl Chambers was going to be watching and I just … had a night.
You knew what was at stake.
EH: I did. I wasn’t in a position like other players already in the WNBL where I could have an off night and I was still going to get contracted. I knew that every single game I had to play really, really well. So I put a lot of pressure on myself, which was mentally draining; nobody’s a worse critic than I am of myself sort of thing. So when I finally got the contract it was like … [exhales].
A relief?
EH: I could breathe. Like, I had done it. I still finished the rest of the season playing well, but it was like I could have fun now; the hard part was done.
🚨 PLAYER SIGNING!!🚨
The Flyers are pleased to confirm Emilee Harmon has joined the team for the 2021-22 season.Coach Cheryl Chambers is looking forward to welcoming Emilee to the team.
“Emilee will bring size, strength, skill and IQ to our team. We welcome Emilee to our family and can’t wait for her to debut in the WNBL with the Flyers in the upcoming season,” said Cheryl.
WELCOME EMILEE! 🦋💙
#WNBL21
#GoFlyers
#WatchUsSoar
How did your signing with Southside come about?
EH: A couple of days after that NBL1 game, Cheryl called me and asked to catch up. I remember I couldn’t drink my coffee because if I picked up my cup she would see how nervous I was. She asked if I would be interested in being a Flyer and, when I said yes, was open about my role being a back-up post, and my wage being the minimum.
How did you feel?
EH: I was just so happy. I was proud. It was eight years in the making. It was eight years of so much time and so much money and doors just being shut. And it’s the reality of sport: you can invest your entire life and it might not pay out. There’s no guarantee that it’s going to pay out. You know, there’s this idea that you work hard and eventually you’ll win. No, my life lesson is you can work as hard as you want and it still might not work out so who did you become in the process? When I got the Southside contract, it was like, ‘Whoa, it paid off.’ It was overwhelming. I was a rookie at thirty-one, which sounds a bit awkward but I didn’t care.
It sounds impressive.
EH: It was probably the first time ever in my life where I felt really proud of myself — for not giving up when any sane person would have. They would have thought to themselves just let it go. It’s been almost a decade. You’re now thirty-one. This is getting insane [laughs]. You need to get a real job. You need to invest your time into what women your age are doing. You should be trying to start a family. All this stuff. And again, if I didn’t have Amy supporting me I probably would have had to stop. I wouldn’t have been able to financially risk it anymore. Even once I did make it, I wouldn’t have been able to survive financially without her. Then injury-wise, I maybe wouldn’t have survived at all.
You don’t have to answer but can I ask how much you were paid at Southside?
EH: It was the minimum — it probably goes back to once you know better, you know better — but at that stage I could have been paid a dollar and I would have been stoked. I think maybe $15,000 at that time, if that. Maybe $12,500.
What was your first WNBL season like?
EH: I played in the practice games and did well. I thought, ‘Oh, cool. This is fun.’ And then the season started and I did not see the floor. But I just thought I needed to earn my spot. It was my first year. I was just so grateful to be there. That was very much the way I went about it. And it was the way it worked out: I just had to wait. I had to keep showing up. Then an opportunity came and, unfortunately, it was at the expense of a teammate getting injured — Abby Bishop — which is never how you want it, but with sport you have to take opportunities when you can get them.
What part of the season was this?
EH: A few games in, maybe four or five weeks in. It was against Adelaide. By this stage, I had barely touched the floor at all. Abby out meant there were no centres left, so I suspected I’d have to play. But I still only ended up playing because Rach Jarry got in foul trouble.
Oh, you didn’t start as the centre? Rach did for Abby?
EH: Yes.
How much did you play?
EH: Quite a bit. Maybe around twenty minutes? I think I had thirteen points and like six rebounds.
You were chosen as player of the game by Southside.
EH: Mm. But my coach never said good job. I mean, I never at one point got recognition from where I wanted it. I received a bit of public praise, from fans or staff or teammates, which of course is so nice, is deeply appreciated, but it wasn’t what I was seeking. I craved some reassurance I was doing a good job or that I was even slightly safe for the next year. Each time I was played, and then did okay, there was this sense of, ‘Right, this is fine for now, but understand it’s not who you’re going to be in the future. As soon as anyone is back, as soon as anyone else is available, no matter what you’ve done, you go back to the bottom.’
Did it almost seem inconvenient that you played well?
EH: Yes. It felt like it wasn’t a nice surprise. It wasn’t what was supposed to happen: it was not part of my role; it wasn’t the understanding when I got signed. I guess I never felt like I was considered a real player. Even when I performed, I still felt like that. It seemed like every training session I had to show I was a valuable person on the team. I had to fight for respect. I had to continue to prove myself, even once I had proven myself. There was always this cloud over my performances: ‘Oh, well, you’re only getting that opportunity, and you’re only playing that well, just so you know, because others are injured. If circumstances were different, if they were normal, you’d be on the bench (where you belong).’ But I was also in a bubble of just being grateful to be there. I was so happy to be there. I was always very expressive of my gratitude, which probably sometimes ended up hurting me. I could be treated in whatever way and I was always going to show up no matter what.
You played well against Adelaide. What then?
EH: Even from there my minutes were still a bit random. But then we went to Canberra a few weeks after, when the Opals were playing and we travelled interstate with about eight of us.
Including all of the Development Players.
EH: Yes, our numbers were decimated. We had five players in the Opals Squad, and then three were chosen for the team. They went overseas. Cheryl was the Opals assistant, so she went with them. Snelly had to step in to coach us. Abby was still injured. Jenna either decided not to play or tried but then couldn’t because she was unwell. Coley had just been cut from the Opals and was so resilient but not in a good place either. There were a few different things happening. That was the first game we knew we were going to play.
[whistling] It was dire.
EH: We had to play. All the options were now actually exhausted.
I think I played fourteen minutes. It was so exciting.
EH: I remember just being so fucking nervous I actually thought I was going to have a heart attack. I’d had that much caffeine throughout the day, because every time I started to crash, I’d be like: not today! And have another coffee.
[laughter] Goodness. How many did you have?
EH: Too many, to the point I was feeling like I genuinely might die. The physio at half time had to rub my chest and give me breathing exercises to do. But that’s what it meant. Like, I just knew this was going to be a vital moment for my career. Again, I was never comfortable. It was not like everyone else where I had the luxury of knowing my spot was safe. I felt like I had to take advantage of every opportunity, or else. So the pressure was there. I felt it. I knew I was going to play — there was genuinely nobody else — and if I busted, I’d be done. I just did not want to give Cheryl any reason to not play me next game or, ultimately, not re-sign me the following season.
So what happened?
EH: We were destroyed. We were absolutely destroyed.
Mm. The team was, you weren’t. Canberra were strong. Their backcourt were even stronger. You were playing against the likes of Kelsey Griffin, Michaela Ruef, Alex Bunton, who combine for more than three decades of international and WNBL experience, including campaigns with the Opals. How did you, personally, play?
EH: I had 22 and 11.
How did you feel?
EH: I remember the entire game so vividly. I felt like I wasn’t even there; something else was operating me. It wasn’t me. It was like an out-of-body experience. I was busy trying not to go into cardiac arrest and the rest of me just took over. I knew after it … I felt like I had … That was the moment, after that game, where I had proven I belonged. Not just at Southside, but belonged in the league. I spent eight years trying to prove it, and even when I thought I had technically proven it by getting signed, I still felt like an imposter, so that Canberra game was the moment where I thought: I’m here. I belong here. This is where I should be. But it was hard because I’m a team player, and our team lost, so there were very complicated emotions. I respected the reality we were not having a good year as a club and, more specifically, there were a number of my teammates who were not having a good time, mentally and emotionally, in general. Some of my teammates were really devastated after that game. So in that moment I think I also recognised how important what I was doing was. It wasn’t just about me. I happened to get an opportunity, but there were other people who were talented and who worked really hard and didn’t. It was almost like, for once in my life, the cards fell in the right place at the right time. I wasn’t just playing for me. I was playing for Gilly. I was playing for Tay and Chelsea. I was playing for you. I was playing for all those whose cards weren’t falling that way. What I was doing was bigger than just me.
Then what?
EH: Then it seemed to happen again. The cards falling in a way so that, against all odds, only a couple of weeks later, maybe that following week, something happened with the Opals, and they were supposed to be back in time for the next game — we were playing Canberra again — but their flight was delayed and they weren’t going to make it, so the rest of the squad would all be needed. Like, this never happens. So many things have to line up for an opportunity like this to present.
But?
EH: But then the club forfeited the game.
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