Shooting Like A Girl?

By Joel Stein

People aren't supposed to be nice to each other on a basketball court. They're supposed to trash talk, stuff, thump their chests, maybe even throttle a coach or kick a photographer in the 'nads. But to stand still so an injured player from the other team can shoot a free basket and break a school record? That kind of nonsense has no place in a gymnasium.

So when two teams collaborated in the season's final game to let hobbled University of Connecticut star Nykesha Sales break the No. 2-ranked school's scoring record, columnists and talk-show callers went nuts. They railed that it was an insult to the integrity of sports--as bad, some argued, as point shaving. But this sort of assist to a deserving player is not unprecedented: Mickey Mantle was served a big fat pitch to pass Jimmie Foxx's career home-run mark. And why are all these people suddenly taking such an interest in a women's college scoring record? This isn't usually the stuff of CNN's Headline Sports.

Now that women's sports are becoming Big Business (five years ago no one would have noticed if Sales used those Flubber-soled sneakers), their development is being closely monitored by the Old Guard. And the growing pains aren't pretty. Big East commissioner Michael Tranghese told the New York Times he would not have given the go-ahead if it had been a men's game. His choice words included: "Males are made differently than women...Men compete, get along and move on with few emotions. But women break down, get emotional...These are entirely different sports cultures." Sure, Mike, if hotel-room trashing, bench-clearing brawls and ear biting qualify as getting along and moving on with few emotions.

But the commish does have a point. This lovefest wouldn't happen in a men's game. That premeditated pitch to Mantle was hushed up for years, whereas the Sales shot was a surreal, Broadway-like moment. After letting UConn win the tipoff, the opposing Villanova players stood silently on their side as a player ceremoniously dribbled the ball to the basket and handed it to the flat-footed Sales, who finished the stilted pas de deux by banking an ugly one off the backboard; then Villanova evened the game with an uncontested shot of its own. The backstage maneuverings were even more contrived. Geno Auriemma, UConn's coach, devised the stunt, then suggested it to his buddy, Villanova coach Harry Perretta. The two coaches cleared it with their athletic directors and university presidents and the commissioner. Then they checked with the previous record holder for UConn, Kerry Bascom-Poliquim, who gave her blessing. There's more. Right before the game, UConn's Kelley Hunt claimed a stomachache and was replaced by Sales; after the redemptive bucket, Hunt felt better and re-entered the game, thanks to the winking acquiescence of the refs. Peace in Iraq was accomplished with fewer people.

It all looked a little silly. It didn't seem like a triumph or an accomplishment. It felt, actually, like a big, icky group hug. But, argues Auriemma, this wasn't about records, it was about appreciation for a key player who wasn't going to enjoy the end of her final season. A befuddled Auriemma feels crucified, wondering why anyone would pick on women for showing teamwork, respect and appreciation.

It was partly because the awkward execution smelled of sexism. Three men--the two coaches and the commissioner--bent rules to make an injured girl's dream come true. In essence they said this isn't real sports so we don't have to play by the real rules. It may have been kind, but it was patronizing. Tara VanDerveer, coach of No. 5-ranked Stanford, says, "It's like the parent who wants something for a kid, and because the kid couldn't get it you rig it or buy it. That's the problem people are having with it." The critics harbor a more obvious sexism. Women's sports--perhaps because they're in a protected, infant stage--involve consensus in a way that doesn't jibe with pure, aggressive competition, critics say. If women are going to turn sports into some chick soap-opera drama, they argue, then perhaps women shouldn't be given the hardwood floor.

So there are still has some issues to deal with before women's sports can complete the journey from cute to compelling. They'll figure it out. Even Sales, a superb, unselfish athlete, instinctively knows that her basket was empty because in lacking truth, it lacked beauty. "I think it would have been a lot better if I was playing," she says. "I wasn't sure at first. But Coach said it was a gift from him to me." Maybe women's sports don't need gifts from men. After all, the last time a basketball story made the front page, a man had wrapped his hands around his coach's throat.

Who needs gifts like that?