IX

My husband and I attended an FCTucson (Football Club Tucson) match on a lovely July evening. We arrived early, not sure of parking (free and close to the front gate, it turned out) and enjoyed our second row bleacher seats as we watched a constant parade of Tucsonians: babies, toddlers, young kids, experimenting teenagers, parents herding the aforementioned, and plenty of elders like ourselves. The crowd was wonderfully diverse and full of enthusiasm for the hometown soccer match.

Directly behind us were a forty-something fellow and his mother, as well as a forty-something woman who clearly was his date. Not that I was listening or anything, but it’s difficult not to eavesdrop when someone is basically speaking over one’s shoulder. It was kind of fun to hear exchanges familiar to any generation: Where did you grow up? What was your major? How many brothers/sisters in your family?  Asked about her team affiliations, it became apparent this was the younger woman’s first soccer match. Lack of experience thwarted not her enthusiastic “coaching,” however, and I was impressed by her general grasp of field tactics.

She was also sensitive to the presence of her date’s mother and periodically asked questions about her own history. At one point, she queried, “Did you play any sports in high school?”  Rather gently and very matter-of-factly, but with a touch of wistfulness (to my ears), the older woman responded, “I was before IX.”  There were no girls teams on which she could have played. Her choices were band and drama. She chose band and played the trombone. She represented so many millions of women.

A week later, we returned with friends to another game. Our longtime friends were accompanied by their granddaughter, a sophomore in high school. When she noted that she had played soccer in middle school, I told her that I had played for thirteen years (twenty-six seasons) as an adult. Her grandmother, our good friend for fifty years, asked if I had ever gotten hurt. Her granddaughter asked what position I played. 

Two weeks later, my husband and I had brunch with two couples, new acquaintances, only slightly older than we. As part of the Get-to-Know-Each-Other conversation, one of the women asked the men whether they had played sports in high school and/or college. It never occurred to her to ask me or the third woman (who, it turns out, had been a cheerleader, the only option open to her at the time). Therein lies so much difference, so much loss for women for so many years.

I was more fortunate. I grew up in Southern California and an environment in which there were girls’ teams as well as boys’.  I was encouraged at every turn to participate and play hard. Through sports I learned the value of conditioning, of team work, of communication, of balancing wins and losses, of constantly looking for ways to improve and to contribute. In short, I learned what boys have been taught forever, and I found myself much better prepared for the work world than many of my female counterparts. I was used to dealing with men as an equal. I could give orders as well as take them. The business world is often referred to as a team sport. What chance did/do women have who have never been allowed to play?

I participated on women’s and coed teams in multiple sports through my mid-60s, just as many men have done. I never tired of the thrills of competition, teamwork, and playing hard. Sadly, as the saying goes, my spirit was willing, but my flesh grew week. There came a time with I was more a liability to the teams on which I played than an asset. Again, something men have experienced forever – and women post Title IX fully understand. Shared experiences and emotions are good for us. They tend to unite, rather than divide.

One needs only compare the facilities provided for women’s teams in college – and salaries for professionals—to recognize full equality has not yet been served. Title IX is seven months older than was Roe v. Wade. One is a law enacted by Congress; the other a decision made and subsequently reversed by the Supreme Court. Women’s rights and opportunities – girls’ rights and opportunities – matter. We all deserve to play.