'The Dream' Has Succeeded In Reality

Once, she was a basketball star, the all-time leading scorer in her county, a player so smooth and efficient that she earned a nickname - "The Dream."

Once, she could have followed the bouncing ball into college prominence. Once, plenty of people were convinced about her future.

Jeanine Boyd Myers made an unusual decision. In a society where sports performance often serves as currency, she gave up competitive athletics to concentrate on academics.

Twenty years ago, with a striking 6-foot-3 presence, she nervously stood at a podium in the Zephyrhills High School gymnasium, delivering her valedictory address. She spoke about finding your passion, exploring options. It was her pep talk to the Class of 1988.

Twenty years later, Myers, 37, has lived that message. But even while graduating into a world of possibilities, could she have imagined all of this?

She's married with three children. She's a college mathematics professor who's pursuing a doctorate. She's a professional musician. Four years ago, she embarked on a humanitarian mission to a tiny South African village, experiencing the AIDS epidemic first-hand, witnessing a steady stream of funerals, forever altering her perspective.

Her older brother, who had struggled with a debilitating disease for nearly 15 years, was withering near death last summer. Myers gave him new life by donating one of her kidneys. When asked, she didn't hesitate.

Now David Boyd is healthy, running three miles each morning, promoted to a new job, relishing every moment.

"How can winning a basketball game compare to that?" Myers said. "One of the things I remember from basketball was pushing through the fatigue, pushing through the pain. Don't let your feelings dictate your actions. You've got to be committed. You do what you have to do.

"Life is sort of like that. Life just happens. On your graduation night, you're filled with all these hopes and dreams. You're not exactly sure what's ahead, but it's exciting. Then off you go."

Finding Her Voice

Off you go.

In a way, Myers was relieved. She wasn't comfortable being a focal point. When you are a sophomore starter on the best team in Zephyrhills history, when you score 1,755 career points, when you are the tallest girl in school, it's difficult to go unnoticed.

"Basketball is not her whole life, nor should it be," Zephyrhills coach Ernie Pittman said at the time. "Jeanine has already learned how to succeed. Now she'll try it at a different place, at a different level."

Slowly, Myers found her voice.

Through her drive in the classroom. She had a 3.85 grade-point average at Baylor University, finishing 72nd in a class of 2,000 seniors. Eventually, it wasn't so scary to stand before an audience, not in a classroom when she was explaining math theory to her students.

Through music. She plays the piano and organ, often accompanying choirs on national tours.

Through her family. She met Matt Myers during a church-camp trip to North Carolina while they were both graduate students at Clemson University. They were married 15 years ago, and she followed him throughout the South, for his educational advancement and career moves.

For a time, she was a stay-at-home mother, raising Rachel (12), Ben (10) and Anna (7).

"Jeanine is obviously a talented person, whether it's basketball, music or teaching," said Matt Myers, associate professor of mathematics at the University of the Ozarks in Clarksville, Ark., where the family has lived since 2002. "But primarily, she is someone who does things for others. She will deny herself things to help her friends and family.

"If our children want to hug her or sit in her lap, she'll never turn them away. She's so receptive to the needs of people she cares about."

Including her brother.

Life's True Meaning

Myers grew up with four older brothers, an arrangement she says helped toughen her for basketball. In turn, the brothers were protective of her.

Last summer, those roles reversed.

In 1993, David Boyd (four years older than Jeanine) was diagnosed with a slowly progressive kidney disease. By last year, his kidney function had regressed to a critical 11 percent. He needed a transplant and Myers had been cleared as a perfect match.

Nothing was guaranteed. Would his body reject the new kidney? Would her health be affected?

One year later, things couldn't be better.

"I haven't felt this good since I was a teenager," said David Boyd, a computer engineer in Orlando. "I think my sister is a hero. Yes, I do.

"She gave me a second chance. She gave me a precious gift."

Myers, more prone to logic and analytical thinking, will only allow that life's most meaningful moments are about relationships. She sensed that in 1988. Now she knows it for sure.

She'll never know what might've happened, had she accepted a basketball scholarship. Her children have seen her scrapbook, sometimes marveling at the publicity their mother once received for playing a game.

Some of Myers' students ask her to join their intramural teams. Prodded, Myers acknowledges she can still play a little bit, but now it's restricted to recreation and exercise.

How good could she have become?

Her answer: It doesn't matter.

"Do I regret the decision to stop playing basketball?" Myers said. "Sometimes, I'll watch a game and see something like the WNBA and I'll think, 'Hmmm. What if ...'

"But truly, I think I always knew there was more to life. And what I have in my life right now, I wouldn't trade it for the world."

Once, she was nicknamed "The Dream."

Now she's simply living it.