A spinal fusion (ouch!) performed by Dr. T. Wiley Hodges at Presbyterian Hospital on June 5, 1970 effectively removed me from the Bryan Adams basketball team. There was just one in those days, limited to boys. Girls never played basketball—right? What follows did not happen, but it should have happened. I was only 17. With the wisdom I have accrued over the past 51 years, it would have happened.
By the end of the summer, my back had sufficiently healed. If I was not yet ready to play basketball—strictly forbidden by Dr. Hodges—I could have coached it. I had been on the (boys, of course) teams at Kiest, Hexter and BA, and played some weak-ass church-league basketball. I’d had hundreds one-on-one contests with my brother and cousin in the back yard at 9853 Champa Drive. I knew enough about the game, and there was probably a book of some kind in Hattie Fowler’s library that addressed the fundamentals of coaching basketball.
First, however, I would have sought a meeting with Dearl D. Richardson, the principal of our school. “Mr. Richardson,” I would have said, “it is grossly and palpably unfair that boys have so many more athletic outlets than girls, and the time has come to rectify the problem. I am starting a girls basketball team at BA. I want your support and approval, but even if you withhold them I will go forward. I will not be deterred.” That would have been followed by a similar meeting downtown with Dr. Nolan Estes, the superintendent of the Dallas Independent School District.
“Dr. Estes, girls at small high schools in east Texas and in the Panhandle have been playing organized sports, especially basketball, for decades,” I would have stated in a respectful manner. “But a big city like Dallas is stuck in the dark ages. What gives?”
Richardson and Estes were not fools. They surely would have realized that change was inevitable, and here was a student willing to get the ball rolling—no pun intended. Others among the faculty and administration at BAHS might have been in favor, or maybe not. What would Nina Sparks, the grande dame of the Belles, have thought? She could have presented a substantial road block. And the same can be said of Ralph Zietz, the basketball coach. The very idea of a nascent girls team taking over his gym twice a week during basketball season would have made him scowl. I would have reasoned with him and argued if necessary: “Hey, Coach, your old-style patriarchal attitude is a big no-go!” Harry Stone Rec Center was on the other side of Ferguson Road, and when the BA gym was unavailable I would have reserved one of its courts for the Lady Cougars.
Some kind of funding would have been necessary, and for that I would have visited establishments north, south, east and west of BA. “Please donate and help us start a girls basketball team,” I would have said. With some of that money, I would have boldly strode into Jackson Sporting Goods at 246 Casa Linda Plaza and placed an order for 24 uniforms—12 green with white trim, 12 white with green trim, made with the female body in mind. The front would have had the jersey number and “Bryan Adams,” and the back would have had the number and the player’s last name. All this would have been well done, with stitching, and not just a cheap iron-on. I would have insisted on quality uniforms, an improvement of the duller-than-dull stuff Zietz foisted on his guys.
Oh, but I am getting ahead of myself. Who would my players have been? With 1,650 female students at BA in those days, it would have been easy to find 12 competent hoopsters. I can list some strong possibilities: Bettye Ash, Vicki Brower, Beverly Cole, Lenore Crawford, Sharon Criss, Diane Cromer, Sally Edgar (whose sister Laura would star on a real BA girls basketball team a few years later and then do quite well at Texas A&M), Jenny Ferguson, Margie Erickson, Marion Fett, Carol Formway, Toni Foster, Gay Gibson, Sharon Guy, Cathy Hendricks, Jackie Hightower, Melanie Ladd, Marcy Lair, Anne Mounts, Karen Oakes, Pam Orcutt, Cindy Regal, Barbara Reid, Randi Rogers, Connie Steely and Jan Tucker. Undoubtedly, there would have been others. Some, daunted by the struggles we were certain to face, might have declined. But most would have jumped at the chance.
The players themselves would have been allowed to elect the captain, with one proviso: I would not have permitted silly junior high games like some of the Gaston guys had done in choosing captains for the BA football team to the detriment of Hill guys like Blake Johnson and Tommy King. We would have truly been one for all and all for one.
You will notice that several of the above-cited young women were on the tennis team (coached by Wayne Scott), the swim team (coached by Austrum “Zeke” Zidermanis), Sparks’ drill team or some combination thereof. One was a cheerleader and three were majorettes, to complicate matters further. To what extent would Scott, Zidermanis or Sparks have resisted the introduction of a new sport at BA? (Not that it would have mattered, but what about that gruff old football coach, Bob Cowsar?) I draw your attention to the fact that a girls tumbling team (coached by Sinah Goode) began that very year. I do not think it unlikely that some would have preferred to join my team than to play tennis, swim or whatever.
That is understating the case a bit too much, so I will rephrase it: Given that girls had been patiently waiting in the wings for so long, there would have been a virtual stampede to get a spot on the Lady Coogs roster.
Each of those listed above, from Ash to Tucker, was a senior in 1970-71, but I would have allowed juniors or even sophomores on the team if they could prove themselves. “Can you hoop?” That’s the main question I would have asked any aspirant. One week of tryouts would have been long enough, and I would not have savored making the cuts (having suffered that fate myself with the Hill and BA football teams in 1967 and 1968, respectively).
Conditioning would have been a big part of our practices. To play winning basketball, you have to be in shape and able to run relentlessly from baseline to baseline. And by the way, we are talking about full-court basketball and not the archaic “ladies” game where most of the players were not allowed to cross the half-court line, dribbling was limited and close guarding was prohibited. It derived from the days of believing that girls and women were dainty and should not over-exert themselves. Bag that!
We would have worked on ball-handling, shooting (including free throws), passing, defense and rebounding. Besides drills, we would have played and played—five-on-five scrimmages with the whistle around my neck. I would have urged them—forgive me for saying it—to play like boys. In other words, get in there and mix it up. Don’t be afraid to sweat.
During this time, Coach Rich-Rich would have been busy. I would have been in touch with the people at Bishop Lynch, Woodrow Wilson, Lake Highlands, Thomas Jefferson, Hillcrest, Kimball and other Dallas-area high schools. I would have asked, “Do you have a girls basketball team? If not, why not? We have one at Bryan Adams, and we are looking for games.” We would have set them up at our and their respective gyms. Such games would have closely resembled those of the boys, with or without the University Interscholastic League’s sanction—and yes, I would have contacted the UIL. Nevertheless, a referee, timekeeper and scorekeeper would have been mandatory for every game.
The Cougar Chronicle and El Conquistador would have been notified of these rather historic athletic events. In addition, I would have asked the Dallas Morning News and Dallas Times Herald sports departments to send a reporter or at least a photographer. And why not have somebody from Channel 8 come and document the proceedings? I had connections with the Dallas Chaparrals and would have begged them to give us their imprimatur in some form.
All BA students would have been invited to attend our games, and I do not think it unlikely that we would have outdrawn the boys. There was a pent-up energy among girls that was crying out for opportunities in the realm of competitive athletics, and it would have been manifested by enthusiastic support—maybe more genuine support than Cowsar’s football players got.
Before the start of every game, my players would have made a saucy intro as Susan Lamb, Gary Scoggins and other members of the Bryan Adams band played “Sweet Georgia Brown,” tipping our hats to the Harlem Globetrotters. I would have encouraged them to employ a hand-clapping, chest-bumping routine that led seamlessly to a funky, swaying dance. Microphone honors at home games, I think, would have been given to Larry Whitaker.
Inertia thoroughly overcome, we might have sought access to Forrester Field House for the purpose of holding a tournament at the end of the “season”—a Final Four, if you will, to determine the best girls high school team in Dallas in 1971. The Lady Cougars may or may not have prevailed in such a tourney. What matters is that these young women would have had the experience of doing something new and important. One or two probably would have ended up playing some form of college hoops. They would have gained self-confidence along the way and built memories to last a lifetime. Some, I do believe, would have kept their green-and-white unis, occasionally pulling them out of storage in the decades to come, seeing if they still fit and reminiscing. Their daughters and granddaughters would have been amazed to hear their stories.
That’s what I should have done.
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