Spiders family tree includes a kingly branch in Nigeria

Genevieve Okoro hasn't yet earned a place among the aristocracy of women's college basketball. But the University of Richmond sophomore will know how to behave if and when she arrives.

She has, after all, grown up as a member of a royal family.

Okoro, a 6-foot forward, is the niece and goddaughter of Chidume Okoro, the titular ruler of the Amano Kingdom, an autonomous Mbaise community in southeastern Nigeria. She is not entitled to a title — "Oh, no, no, no, I'm definitely not a princess," she said — but reminders of her lineage are never far away.

"I used to get teased about it a lot in high school," she said. "Once people found out, it was always 'Princess this' and 'Princess that.' "

One such recollection stands out like a jewel on a crown. "We were playing a big game against our big rival," Okoro said. "When we came out for warmups, just about everyone in the (opposing) stands was dressed like a princess and wearing a tiara. They were all bowing to me. It was kind of funny. No, actually it was really funny. I just stood there and looked around and said, 'Oh, my God.' It made it kind of hard to focus on the game."

Okoro, born in New Jersey to parents who emigrated from Nigeria, has visited the Amano Kingdom twice. She said she and her family are treated with considerable deference when there. "Of course, (the deference) tends to happen a lot more when we're around my uncle then when we're not. My uncle commands a definite level of respect. Even my dad" — Vincent Okoro, Chidume's brother — "addresses him as 'Eze.' (Roughly, 'King' or 'Your Highness' in the local dialect.)"

Okoro might one day command similar respect on the basketball court. Quick, assertive and explosive, she is averaging 11.4 points and a team-high 7.1 rebounds for the 18-5 Spiders. She rang up 21 points and 13 rebounds in a road victory over VCU. She delivered 27 points and 10 rebounds in a road triumph over James Madison.

"She might be one of the best athletes I've ever coached," said Spiders head coach Michael Shafer, a former longtime assistant at the University of Georgia. "When you look at her combination of athleticism and length and strength — plus the fact that there's still so much room for improvement — I think you'd have to say the sky is literally the limit."

But the sky is not without patches of overcast. Okoro's most impressive psychological allies, her quest for excellence and her willingness to compete fiercely and physically, are also her most dangerous opponents.

So relentlessly does she push herself off the court — she is a self-described perfectionist who hopes ultimately to become an orthopedic surgeon — that the act of playing basketball has become to a large extent therapeutic. Many women's players shrink from the prospect of physical combat beneath the basket. Okoro relishes it.

"Please don't misunderstand," she said. "I'm a very nice person. I have a lot of friends. But this — well, this is my outlet. I'm very aggressive when I play. I enjoy contact."

Though she was also an elite volleyball player at Eastern Regional High School in Voorhees, N.J., she said volleyball "always felt a little weird because it was a noncontact sport. I need something that will let me get rid of my aggressiveness. When you're playing volleyball..." She shook her head. "I mean, there's only so much aggressiveness you can get rid of by just hitting a ball."

Her appetite for contact, combined with what Shafer describes as "a motor that never stops...it runs 100 miles an hour all the time," tends to attract officials' scrutiny. Okoro has led the Spiders in personal fouls and disqualifications in each of her first two seasons. She was on the floor for only one minute during last week's victory over Rhode Island. Her only statistical contribution to that game: two personal fouls.

"I have to be better than that ... I have to be smarter than than," Okoro said. Shackled to the bench by foul trouble "isn't where my team needs me to be and it certainly isn't where I want to be."

Lack of a title notwithstanding, Okoro carries herself with a bearing that can only be described as regal. Her presence is engaging but proper; her conversation thoughtful and precise. She nodded when asked if her status as a royal relative carries unspoken responsibility.

"There's always someone watching and paying attention who knows who you are and who you're associated with," she said. "I always try to remember that."