ELItorial: They got next and that ain't bad

There is something safe about being a cynic. As a female sports fan continually striving to be taken seriously by my male counterparts, I feared being branded a blind feminist instead of a knowledgeable athletic critic. Although I felt mildly guilty about dismissing the WNBA as a doomed enterprise, I was not willing to put the reputation of my sports expertise on the line. I abandoned interest in women's basketball with a shrug of the shoulders.

The year passed and I took a summer internship with the New York Knicks. When I found that my job might also entail helping out at New York Liberty WNBA games, I scowled and scoffed with an air of superiority. I was a Knicks girl--I worked for the real franchise and I was not sure if I would deign to help the struggling WNBA sister franchise during its under-attended, lackluster contests.

As the summer with the Knicks wore on, I heard a lot more about courtrooms than basketball courts. The NBA lockout had taken effect. It was my task to receive outraged calls from fans and season ticket holders who wondered why there might not be a season come November. The only NBA news crossing the wires was the discovery of drugs in Allen Iverson's car and Latrell Sprewell's denial of threatening to kill his coach if he wasn't traded; the only action came when the NBA owners walked out on the players after they presented a new proposal and when Anthony Mason was charged with raping two 13-year-old girls.

On the public relations front, the NBA is receiving failing grades. A group of grown men whose salaries average nearly $1.5 million a year and who refuse to play because they, in the words of their Union President Patrick Ewing, "want their fair share of the pie," is not appealing. No one wants to hear about the latest lawsuit filed by the players against the owners demanding exorbitant salaries even during a work stoppage. No one wants to hear that NBA Commisioner David Stern shocked the crowd at labor negotiations by sporting a grizzly white beard. Fans don't care about all the extracurricular activity-they just want to watch the games. But this year, that might not even be possible until January.

Disillusioned, I turned my thoughts toward the WNBA and I worked my first New York Liberty game near the end of July. The quality of play in the league has improved immensely in the past year--as with any new venture, it has simply taken a bit of time. And there was another noticeable change: from the moment of the opening tip to the sounding of the final buzzer, I had never witnessed such a consistently exuberant crowd. I was amazed to find Madison Square Garden filled threatening to burst with screaming fans--and not just young girls either. Entire families sat rapt, vigorously cheering during every play, even when the home team was ahead by 30 points.

The fans I saw at the Liberty games were of an entirely different breed--they lacked the typical sports fan's distrust and lingering resentment toward athletes. They had faith in and respect for their favorite players: women who receive no more money than teachers, police officers, or secretaries. They cheered for the women who have formed a league still young enough to remember why sports are around in the first place--simply for the thrill of competition.

The WNBA is thriving. And I was one of the last to know. It's ironic that perhaps some of the most serious sports fans of all might be missing the WNBA because of the initial stigma the league received from the elite sports pundits who were so quick to dismiss it after its first season. I will be bold. I will risk being written off as another female sports fan unable to distinguish the supposed superiority of men's over women's sports. I will risk the eternal disrespect of all perpetual sports cynics out there. I will go out on a limb and say that right now, the WNBA is a whole lot more of a genuine athletic league than the NBA is. Next summer, go see for yourself.

Back to Sports...