The commotion grew louder outside the Slovenia hotel room of Sebnem Kimyacioglu, a former Stanford basketball player and member of the Turkish national team. She entered the hallway to find teammates scurrying with panic in their faces.
“What’s happening?” Kimyacioglu said.
The Olympics were only three weeks away, but doubt was everywhere -- not only for Rio, but for the future of the country. A strain of the military was attempting to overthrow the Turkish government and the players gathered around a television in a makeshift training room far away from the gunfire and explosions that rocked Istanbul and Ankara, and were watching it unfold. More than 300 had been killed, including a player’s neighbor.
The room eerily was silent.
On the phone, Seb was reassured by her father, a Turkish expatriate that “Everything will be fine.” She wasn’t so sure.
The coup attempt – Turkey’s sixth since 1960 -- finally crumbled when President Tayyip Erdogan called for citizens to take to the streets in support of his government. The soldiers surrendered. The people celebrated.
Democracy, on this day, had won.
•••
Sebnem (second from left) celebrates a 2005 NCAA tournament victory with (from left) sister Elif, father Kursat, sister Yasemin, and mother Fusun.
•••
A sharpshooter on four Stanford Pac-10 championship teams and two that reached the Elite Eight, Kimyacioglu was born and raised in Mountain View, California, But, in 2016, she wore a uniform emblazoned with a star and crescent.
Kimyacioglu’s story would be fascinating enough if just about basketball: She was retired from the sport for four years before an unexpected phone call led to a series of events that Kimyacioglu never could have anticipated would lead to her first Olympic Games … at age 33.
Now, more than two months after Rio, Kimyacioglu’s basketball career truly is over. The ‘05 Stanford graduate is beginning a career as an attorney. She’ll have stories to tell if anyone in the office is curious about the Olympian in their midst and has a few moments to listen.
For Kimyacioglu, Turkey is a nation of beauty and family. Her parents, Kursat and Fusun Kimyacioglu, came from Turkey in 1980 when her father, an electrical engineer, was recruited to a Silicon Valley semiconductor company. The family found a vibrant Turkish community, and Seb grew up connected with her culture, even wearing traditional dress while learning Turkish folk dancing.
But there was no substitute for the homeland itself. Seb spent every summer of her childhood in Turkey, staying mostly in their mother’s hometown of Alanya, a seaside city with roots dating back 5,000 years on a stretch of Mediterranean known as the “Turkish Riviera.” It felt so safe, she was free to explore.
“That was us connecting with our family, our culture, and the language,” Kimyacioglu said. “It was the perfect summer vacation resort town for us. It spoke of the diversity of Turkey.”
The Kimyacioglus are Muslim, but the contrast between cultures – even in their family -- was apparent. Seb’s grandmother prayed five times a day. The kids played at a beach where women in headscarves relaxed alongside topless European tourists.
“I dress just like I dress here in the States,” Seb said. “People are respectful of other people. I had family members who covered their heads and family members who didn’t, but still considered themselves very religious. I saw this as kind of personal. I respect people who practice their religion in a way that is true to them.”
The pull of basketball began when Kimyacioglu was at Bubb Elementary School.
“I was such a tomboy, I did whatever the boys did,” she said. “Whatever they were playing, I was playing.”
When Seb was In fourth grade, a teacher noticed how well she played against the boys. The teacher informed her parents of their daughter’s skill and recommended she join a team. She began to thrive.
At a clinic, she was taken by the teaching of high school coach Doc Scheppler, and followed him to tiny Pinewood School in Los Altos Hills. The Panthers won four Central Coast Section Division V titles with Kimyacioglu, and Scheppler has since won six state championships and earned attention as a shooting guru to NBA player Jeremy Lin and others.
“Even at Stanford, I felt I had a leg up on most of my teammates, who may have been great individual players, but still had to learn the game,” Kimyacioglu said.
Stanford coach Tara VanDerveer had her eye on Kimyacioglu, and left nothing to chance.
“We were at a basketball camp and I wanted to give out the awards, but I didn’t know if I would be able to pronounce her last name, or even her first name,” VanDerveer said. “I had her younger sister practice with me, making sure I could pronounce her name correctly. I tried it about 20 times. SHEB-num Kim-yah-ZHEE-oh-lou.
“I don’t know if I can spell it, but I can pronounce it.”
Kimyacioglu started her first six games at Stanford, eventually settling in as a spot starter and sharpshooter. Playing mostly on teams with All-America forward Nicole Powell, Kimyacioglu totaled 205 three-point baskets – the third-most in school history at the time of her graduation – and started 65 games as a 5-foot-11 wing.
“Seb was a great teammate,” point guard Susan King Borchardt said. “She was always positive, never complained, no matter how many minutes she played. It was all about the team.”
As a senior, Kimyacioglu captained the Cardinal to a 32-3 record and went 118-18 during her career, before graduating with an economics degree. Kimyacioglu had visions of stardom, but was willing to put individual goals aside.
“The thing I enjoy most about playing basketball, is the team -- being part of a team and helping that team succeed,” she said. “I realized that if I’m placed in this particular role and want to help, I have to do these very limited things.
“I loved it. My whole career, especially starting at Stanford, this has been true. I was lucky enough to play with a Hall of Fame coach in Tara and I trusted her and her system – that she was doing the best for her team to succeed, not picking favorites. In my view, she does whatever is needed for her team to be successful.”
VanDerveer, recalling Kimyacioglu’s hard work, said this: “She has a passion for basketball.”
•••
Kimyacioglu always has been all about the team.
•••
By 2012, Kimyacioglu had long given up playing competitively. Her three-year professional career in Turkey ended in 2008 when she tore the plantar fascia in her foot, and she was about to graduate from Santa Clara Law School.
Basketball consisted of games with undergrads and graduate students, no Nicole Powells among them, but a relatively high level nonetheless.
“It was actually the best way I could prepare,” she said.
A call came from the husband of Stanford teammate Kristen Newlin. He was an assistant coach with Galatasaray, a power in the Turkish league. The team was desperate. It fell short of a EuroLeague title with American stars Diana Taurasi, Tina Charles, and Epiphanny Prince. All three were now gone, and the team had holes to fill, including a backup shooting guard. Its foreign slots were taken, so the player had to be Turkish, and Kimyacioglu, a dual citizen, fit the bill.
“Are you serious?” she replied. “There’s no way I could play on a team that Diana Taurasi was just on. This is beyond my skill set.”
“Why don’t you think about it,” was the reply.
With the bar exam in eight weeks, Kimyacioglu stalled the tryout until then, and used that time to prepare herself physically.
The bar exam finished on a Wednesday. She left for Istanbul on Friday.
“I was out of sight, out of mind for four years,” she said. “I wasn’t even in the country. Then, all of a sudden, I’m back. A lot of people weren’t sure I was ready to play at this level. The form was still there, though the muscle memory might be slightly off. But once I committed to playing again, the shot was easier to get back.”
With fewer stars came diminished expectations for Gala, which kept winning in that 2014 season. It beat defending champion UMMC Ekaterinburg of Russia, featuring Candace Parker, in the EuroLeague semifinals.
“We caught them by surprise,” Kimyacioglu said.
The result set up a championship battle with Fenerbahce, resuming a Turkish rivalry so bitter, fans were known to fight simply for crossing paths.
With Gala clinging to a three-point lead and shooting poorly, the coach pointed to Kimyacioglu with three minutes left. Fenerbahce had fallen back into a zone when Kimyacioglu got the ball in transition. With an open three for the taking, she shot.
And scored.
On the next possession, the shot clock was winding down when Kimyacioglu, five feet beyond the three-point arc, took a pass and fired another.
And scored … again.
Being in the zone is a feeling, Kimyacioglu said. It’s a rhythm that takes hold of your entire body, from the ball coming off your hand to the sensation in your toes.
“You don’t even need to look at the rim, you know it’s going to go in,” she said.
But there’s much frustration as well, like Sisyphus, eternally condemned to pushing a stone uphill.
“You’re always chasing that feel,” she said.
The basket sealed a 69-58 victory and Kimyacioglu, only months removed from school pickup games, was named hero of the game.
“Winning that championship, especially in a year where everyone counted us out, and going in there and hitting those shots, I thought that was it for me,” she said. “It’s not going to get any better than that.”
She was wrong.
“The Olympics,” she said. “I didn’t see that one coming either.”
•••
•••
Before each practice in Turkey, Kimyacioglu approached the athletic trainer with a request. Rather, an order.
“Don’t let me leave,” she’d say.
By forcing the trainer to keep her an extra 10 minutes, she became that much better and her confidence soared.
When coach Ekrem Memnun was assembling his Olympic team, these were the visions that came to mind. It wasn’t necessarily the production from the 33-year-old that enticed him. It was the professionalism.
“I need someone to show up every day in practice,” he told her. “The game doesn’t matter. Show up every day, be an example, work hard.”
Those qualities weren’t acquired by chance.
“A lot of credit should go to Tara,” Borchardt said. “She demands professionalism. Stanford is known for that, Tara instilled it. And Seb takes it to another level.”
In Rio, Kimyacioglu immediately sensed the difference between this event and any other she’d ever played in.
“There’s this added level of excitement, this adrenaline,” she said. “People perform in ways they really didn’t know they could. You see these incredible performances you can’t do anywhere else. They’re tapping into things maybe they wouldn’t be able to tap into otherwise.”
Games were close. Tension was overwhelming. In five group stage games, Turkey’s point differential was one. It beat Brazil in double overtime to advance to the knockout stage. Kimyacioglu, listed as a power forward, came off the bench in every game, usually to shore up the defense or to add shooting.
But the conclusion was abrupt. In the quarterfinal, Turkey frittered away an eight-point lead to Spain in the final three minutes, only to regroup to tie the score with 4.3 seconds left. But before Turkey could organize its defense, Spain attacked in transition and hit a runner just inside the three-point line at the buzzer to win, 64-62. Turkey was one game from the medal round.
“If we had lost by 20, we would feel a lot different,” Kimyacioglu said. “That was a tough blow. We went from: We’re going to pull this off … this is the year … it’s going to happen … it’s meant to be …
“To flat-lining on a buzzer-beater.
“It took some time to get over that moment, but I don’t regret the experience for a second. It was the pinnacle of my sports career, and my life thus far. I feel privileged to have shared space with the rest of the world.”
Kimyacioglu returned to Stanford when the Cardinal Olympians were honored at a football game in early October and she practiced with VanDerveer’s team.
On one sequence, Seb hit a stepback jumper over one of the players, who turned to her and said, “Do you really have to do that to me in front of the coaches?”
But she’s accepted that her competitive career is done, though her new career is just beginning. She accepted an offer to work in the general counsel at Marvel Entertainment. But Turkey always will be part of her, even with the uncertainty that follows in a volatile corner of the world.
“Whenever you hear about something going on over there, your heart jumps for a second,” said Borchardt said. “You just want to know she’s OK.”
Kimyacioglu was in Istanbul’s Ataturk Airport two days after a June 28 terrorist attack. Shootings and suicide bombings killed 45 and wounded 230. Her sense of security was shaken.
“I have been there countless times, and watching the footage … I couldn’t avoid that airport even if I wanted to,” she said. “That made it real.”
To be Turkish is to be a citizen of many nations in one. There is the Turkey of democracy -- the lone holdout of Muslim extremism in the Middle East – and the Turkey that until recently allowed ISIS fighters to freely cross its borders.
It is constantly tested, challenged, and reshaped. It copes with nearly 3 million registered Syrian refugees, and weathers a longstanding conflict with Kurdish militants. Between coup attempts and terrorist attacks, life can be unpredictable.
It is the crossroads of two continents, and hugs two seas. It carries the remnants of ancient civilizations and the skeletons of fallen empires.
It has proven to be progressive, but with a dark undercurrent that worries even the most optimistic about its future. Still, peace and acceptance have overcome chaos thus far. The hope is that it will continue to do so.
“Turkey is an example for those in the Middle East,” Kimyacioglu said. “That being said, it still has a long way to go.”
For this Olympian, that is enough.
•••