Edwards, and Ann Meyers showed that they were world-class athletes, but after college there were few places they could continue to play. Then, in 1997, the women’s professional leagues took off. The WNBA and ABL games attracted a wide attendance; both leagues were televised. Players such as Rebecca Lobo, Lisa Leslie, and Cynthia Cooper became media stars. Advertisers began using the better players in commercials for shoes, cars, and credit cards. WNBA player Jamila Wideman was even featured on the Nike website. It had been a long, hard battle, and women basketball players were finally accorded recognition and respect.
Many different kinds of leadership brought women’s basketball to its current place. There were the small colleges, such as Immaculata, Old Dominion, and Louisiana Tech, which made early and significant commitments to women’s basketball. There were the coaches—Pat Summitt of Tennessee, Theresa Grentz of Illinois, Tara VanDerveer of Stanford, Geno Auriemma of Connecticut, and countless others—who loved the game and believed that the values it taught were gender-blind and that the excitement the women’s game could generate was at least as great as that created by the men. There were the high school and college athletic directors who embraced Title IX as an opportunity and opened up gym space, practice fields, and weight rooms. There is even a place in the story for NBA commissioner David Stern, who decided to put the league’s marketing muscle behind the WNBA. But among the most effective were those mothers and fathers across America who saw the common sense of opening sports to women and wanted their daughters to have the same chances as their sons to experience the game.
The great leaders in basketball have never been afraid of change and they have led from the strength of their own convictions. And, above all, they have brought out the best in the people they lead.
NO EXCUSES—NONE
RESPONSIBILITY
The first day of practice always tells the story about which players have taken physical conditioning seriously in the off-season. In basketball, if you can’t run, you can’t play. If you haven’t been running for two months before the first practice, you haven’t fulfilled your responsibility to the team. Red Holzman’s rule was that the Knicks were all adults, that we knew we made our living with our bodies, and that if we couldn’t keep them in condition we were hurting not just ourselves but the team. He also said, by way of threatening afterthought, “And then don’t expect to get playing time.” It was up to each of us to stay in condition. Occasionally someone would report to training camp out of shape. Our response would be like that of sharks going after a piece of bloody meat. We would run over, around, and past the laggard until he got the message.
Players who want to last in the NBA must take serious care of themselves. Karl Malone wants to play well past the age when most players retire, so he works out year-round. He lifts weights, runs on the StairMaster, stretches nearly every day. Dennis Rodman is another player who prides himself on his physical shape. When he runs down the floor with his knees kicking high, as if he were a sprinter, he is flaunting his conditioning. The store of energy from a well-honed body also shows in his persistence as a rebounder.
While some young athletes think of themselves as invincible, even immortal, and consequently abuse their bodies with drugs or alcohol, most professional players recognize the gift of time they’ve been given. Walt Frazier’s public image included mink coats, wide-brimmed hats, luxurious cars, beautiful women. The image was a more or less accurate picture of his public lifestyle, but no one on the Knicks was in better condition. Walt, too, worked out year-round. He was a health food advocate before it was cool to be one. He always got plenty of rest. His pride—amounting to a kind of obsession with looking good and a
Many different kinds of leadership brought women’s basketball to its current place. There were the small colleges, such as Immaculata, Old Dominion, and Louisiana Tech, which made early and significant commitments to women’s basketball. There were the coaches—Pat Summitt of Tennessee, Theresa Grentz of Illinois, Tara VanDerveer of Stanford, Geno Auriemma of Connecticut, and countless others—who loved the game and believed that the values it taught were gender-blind and that the excitement the women’s game could generate was at least as great as that created by the men. There were the high school and college athletic directors who embraced Title IX as an opportunity and opened up gym space, practice fields, and weight rooms. There is even a place in the story for NBA commissioner David Stern, who decided to put the league’s marketing muscle behind the WNBA. But among the most effective were those mothers and fathers across America who saw the common sense of opening sports to women and wanted their daughters to have the same chances as their sons to experience the game.
The great leaders in basketball have never been afraid of change and they have led from the strength of their own convictions. And, above all, they have brought out the best in the people they lead.
NO EXCUSES—NONE
RESPONSIBILITY
The first day of practice always tells the story about which players have taken physical conditioning seriously in the off-season. In basketball, if you can’t run, you can’t play. If you haven’t been running for two months before the first practice, you haven’t fulfilled your responsibility to the team. Red Holzman’s rule was that the Knicks were all adults, that we knew we made our living with our bodies, and that if we couldn’t keep them in condition we were hurting not just ourselves but the team. He also said, by way of threatening afterthought, “And then don’t expect to get playing time.” It was up to each of us to stay in condition. Occasionally someone would report to training camp out of shape. Our response would be like that of sharks going after a piece of bloody meat. We would run over, around, and past the laggard until he got the message.
Players who want to last in the NBA must take serious care of themselves. Karl Malone wants to play well past the age when most players retire, so he works out year-round. He lifts weights, runs on the StairMaster, stretches nearly every day. Dennis Rodman is another player who prides himself on his physical shape. When he runs down the floor with his knees kicking high, as if he were a sprinter, he is flaunting his conditioning. The store of energy from a well-honed body also shows in his persistence as a rebounder.
While some young athletes think of themselves as invincible, even immortal, and consequently abuse their bodies with drugs or alcohol, most professional players recognize the gift of time they’ve been given. Walt Frazier’s public image included mink coats, wide-brimmed hats, luxurious cars, beautiful women. The image was a more or less accurate picture of his public lifestyle, but no one on the Knicks was in better condition. Walt, too, worked out year-round. He was a health food advocate before it was cool to be one. He always got plenty of rest. His pride—amounting to a kind of obsession with looking good and a
Similar Books
