WNBA legend Sylvia Fowles looks forward to life as a mortician after basketball

SYLVIA FOWLES IS GRINNING. Glowing even.

She wants me to know, with her generous smile, that she's not afraid of the topic. We're talking about death, and eventually, reincarnation. She likes to contemplate the future, and the unknown. It's much more interesting to her than the past.

«I do believe in reincarnation,» Fowles says. «And if I do come back, I think I'd like to come back as an animal. Either an eagle or an elephant. I would love that.»

Fowles greets just about everyone with a hug when she meets them, and I'm no different. I've come to Minneapolis to ask Fowles about her impending retirement, about the curtain falling on one of the greatest careers in WNBA history, but I quickly realize it doesn't interest her much. The 6-foot-6 Minnesota Lynx center squirms in her chair every time I try to bring up one of her numerous accomplishments: 2017 league MVP; two-time Finals MVP; four-time Defensive Player of the Year; eight-time All-Star; four-time Olympic gold-medal winner. It becomes clear she would rather delve into… just about anything else. Including (but not limited to) her love of knitting, of plants, her road to understanding her own mental health, and her future career as a mortician. Yes, mortician.

«My life is not basketball,» Fowles says. «It's just something I do.»

We're sitting across from each other at a table inside Breaking Bread Cafe, a restaurant run by Appetite For Change. It serves food grown in a community garden we just visited. (Fowles had a bench in the garden dedicated in her honor; she planted some beets during this latest stop on a retirement tour the Lynx have dubbed «Syl's Final Ride.») The greatest rebounder in the history of women's basketball knows the clock is running out, but the