I enjoyed his company and felt comfortable around him because he seemed so entirely comfortable around me. At UCLA, if a guy actually worked up the nerve to ask me out on date, I got the sense he was behaving a certain way because I was David Meyers’s little sister. Later, when I asked Marques Johnson why he or any of the other guys never asked me out in college, he said, “Because Dave would have beat us up.”
Don was so comfortable in his own skin and that put me at ease. He knew who he was as a person, and he didn’t care what anybody else thought. I got the sense he never felt the need to prove himself to anyone, while I’d been trying to prove myself worthy from day one. Oddly, I didn’t feel like I needed to prove anything to Don. The confidence he exuded seemed to spill out onto everyone around him, and now it was spilling over onto me.
The sheer size of my family and their exuberance could be overwhelming, but I figured he should get a picture of what I’m all about—that family means everything to me. When the party ended, I thanked him for coming and we went our separate ways—he, back to ABC and broadcasting for the Angels, and I, back to the East Coast to play for the Gems, where my frustrations with the WBL continued.
One of those frustrations was the high number of technical fouls and their resulting fines. The coaches were going to end up being bled dry if the players weren’t careful. While the fine for a technical in the NBA and WBL was the same, $75.00, the WBL coaches were paid roughly $10,000 a year, and the NBA coaches were getting closer to $250,000. The owners didn’t seem to care too much about requests to reduce the amount of the fines, so nearly half of the WBL’s coaches would end up being suspended at one time or another for unpaid technicals.
Those were the kinds of rules which seemed to lack common sense. In all likelihood, the high fines in the WBL were the result of a lack of understanding of the costs associated with running a national operation. They hadn’t considered how expensive it was to rent NBA stadiums, pay salaries, and accrue travel expenses. We’d be traveling during the mid-season, and a game would suddenly get canceled. It was like the movie Leatherheads.
To highlight the point, we had one incident where we flew to New Orleans to play at Tulane University. The flight got in around 1:00 p.m. for a 7:00 p.m. game. After the game, we’d turn around and fly back to Jersey. The problem was what to do with us in those hours before the game started. We weren’t about to spend six hours on the streets of New Orleans.
“What do you mean you don’t have rooms for us?”
Our owners had nowhere for the twelve of us to hang out in until the game started. So I went to the other players and told them I’d pay for two rooms so we’d have somewhere to put our feet up…and mentioned that I’d take any contributions. Everyone started pulling fives and tens out of their pockets and duffle bags. Of course, this made the Gems management look foolish, so they eventually coughed up the money for two rooms at the Holiday Inn, which came to about $100.
Another time we were playing in Houston and didn’t have time to shower after the game. They told us to throw on our sweats over our uniforms and to hightail it out to a bus, which had been assigned a police escort to the airport so we could catch the last flight out of Newark. The point was that it saved the Gems from spending money on hotel rooms. As female athletes, we were used to being treated like second class citizens, but the lack of organization and forethought within the WBL was hard to take, especially after spending time with the Pacers and seeing how things were done in the front office.
In retrospect, I think those involved on the financial end simply didn’t understand the concept of a national women’s professional basketball league let alone calculating the costs. It didn’t take long before teams started folding, and more and more salaries went unpaid. It signaled the beginning of the end, and they were only their second year into it.
Not all my memories with the Gems were bad, however. Some of my teammates became good friends. Donna Geils, from Queens college, went on to become Donna Orender, the president of the WNBA for six years. She and I were a lot alike in that she could spend hours shooting hoops if something was bothering her, using that time to work things out in her head. Faye and Kaye Young were close to my heart because I’d played against them my senior year at UCLA and always thought they were nice and good players. They played for Hall of Fame coach, Kay Yow, at N.C. State. The Young Twins had a national commercial for Dannon Yogurt and became known as the Dannon Yogurt Twins. Their national exposure was helpful in promoting the WBL, which had little, if any, advertising budget.
The WBL loved it when any of its players received national exposure because it helped generate interest in the league. They used the model-like Young twins to its advantage, just as they had capitalized on two extremely attractive players, Molly Bollin and Jane Fincher. Unfortunately, even that became problematic for the league, as Kara Porter chronicled in her book Mad Seasons. The perception that attractive blondes were heavily favored in the WBL was becoming widespread, and cries of racism from within the ranks came up all the time, especially with regard to marketing. So it probably didn’t help that I had done the 7-Up campaign with Magic Johnson, Sugar Ray Leonard, and some other big sports names, along with a Fuji Film campaign, which had my face on billboards across the country.
Various team owners had publicly commented that the promotion was a way to generate ticket sales, along with trying to counteract female athlete stereotypes at a time when engaging in aggressively competitive endeavors was still considered “unfeminine.” Putting too much stock in my looks always seemed like an investment with diminishing returns. I was a basketball player, and I couldn’t fathom that being sexy was part of the job description. Professional women’s basketball, like professional men’s basketball, may have been about putting fans in the seats, but I wanted to do it with my talent.
As for the preconception that female athletes were, by and large, gay, that’s still something that most women’s sports have to contend with. In team sports, whether volleyball, basketball, softball, or soccer, there’s a bond among the players which is no different than the men. They all just want to win. Sports, and especially team sports, creates a camaraderie, a tight-knit group of young athletes. Everyone may have his or her own role, but together they have a common goal. They are eating together, showering together, traveling on the road together, and I don’t know whether this camaraderie leads to a misperception of same sex relationships, or whether it, in fact, engenders same-sex relationships. What I do know is the presumption that many female athletes were gay was never extended to male athletes in the 60s and 70s. If anything, it was just the opposite—male athletes were considered prototypes of masculinity.
If anyone had any questions about my sexuality during my time with the Gems, they were probably answered the first time Don showed up at a game in Jersey when he and Bob Uecker were sent to the East Coast to lay down voice-overs for ABC.
Ever since the party at Mark and Frannie’s, Don and I had been talking on the phone at night after games or practice. It had been nice to have someone to share my frustrations with, to laugh with. Every day I looked forward to hearing his voice. It was even more thrilling to see him here, in the flesh, and the Gems had won, to boot.
It was nearly midnight by the time I got out of the gym. I’d showered and let my adrenaline simmer down so I could finally eat. Adrenaline is a great thing, and every player gets amped before a game. But knowing Donnie was there kicked my adrenaline into high gear. In addition to that, I had a routine of not eating four hours before a game, so by now I was starved. The only place open at that late hour was Howard Johnsons, so the three of us shared a brown plastic-upholstered booth and Formica table, ordered, and waited for our meals.
“Do you guys sit around naked in the locker room and talk about the game?” Only Ueckie could ask such a question.
I was taken aback and embarrassed until I realized it was a legitimate question. After all, that’s what the guys did after a game, at least in Donnie a
nd Ueckie’s day. “No. I’m the only player from the West Coast and I guess I sorta keep to myself.”
I heard the words come out of my mouth and immediately bit my tongue. I wanted to feel a sense of camaraderie with my teammates, so why was I keeping myself isolated? It was important to be able to talk about what happened after a game, to learn from it, to bond. If I was lonely in Jersey, it was my own fault. I’m sure there were teammates there who could have been possible allies in that impossible league, women who shared my frustrations, but I couldn’t see that then. That’s the problem with carrying a chip on your shoulder—it blocks your peripheral vision, making it tough to see the bigger picture.
But Ueckie went on as if he hadn’t heard me. “When Don asked me if I wanted to see a game tonight, I thought maybe we were going to watch the Knicks.” His smile widened. “Then when we got in the limo and headed out to Jersey, I thought maybe it was Seton Hall, Princeton, or Rutgers.”
Don had told Ueckie he wanted to watch a player, but he hadn’t told him which player. Not until the limo pulled into the Dunn High School parking lot and they walked into the Dunn High gym, did Ueckie figure out that it was some girl they’d come to watch. And not just some girl, but me.
The waitress came with our food, and I noticed the same thing I’d noticed in the Bahamas, that people instantly recognized Don and treated him with a near-reverent respect. But he didn’t seem to care. He was equally nice to everyone, whether it was a young waiter who didn’t recognize him or a die-hard Bums fan who knew him from back in the days when he was playing in Brooklyn for the Dodgers.
The conversation that night went in and out of sports, in and out of baseball and basketball, in and out of Ueckie’s jokes. At night when Don and I talked on the phone, it was about so much more than the Gems. But when the topic did turn to sports, he always respected my opinion. He was different from other men that way. He understood we were both athletes, and he treated my view as being just as valid as his. Talking to him in person was wonderful. He looked good, and was obviously getting plenty of that California sunshine that I was missing.
Don was very kind, very confident, very handsome, very exciting and very smart. Unfortunately he was also still very married. Separated from his wife or not, I kept our relationship platonic because my Catholic guilt wouldn’t have it any other way. And to his credit, he was a perfect gentleman. But as the weeks went on and our conversations continued, they became more personal and more frequent. Though I told myself we were just friends, deep down I knew I was falling in love.
14
Waiting It Out
“I never realized until later in life that women were supposed to be the inferior sex.”
~ Katherine Hepburn
At the end of the ’79/’80 season, I was named MVP alongside Molly Bolin. However, there was no fanfare, no publicity, and no celebration within the organization, whatsoever. I should have taken that to be another bad omen, but I still wanted to believe everything would turn out for the best. I returned to the West Coast for the offseason and got the shock of my life when a Gems’ check to me for $10,000 bounced. I waited for them to make it good, but it wasn’t going to happen, so I decided to sit out the following season’s games until they paid me in full for the first season.
I also decided to take the Superstars up on their offer to compete in the upcoming event, and this time I would be ready.
I trained throughout the summer, well in advance of the December event, and let Papa’s words ring continuously in my head: “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail.” I didn’t have time to prepare for the first go around because I was busy broadcasting for the Pacers and playing pro-ball with the Gems. But now I had a strategy. Not only did I know which sports to participate in, but just as importantly, the order.
Since I was sitting out all of the Gems’ games, I was able to devote myself entirely to training for the Superstars event. As with everything that happened in the WBL, it seemed this, too, would be spun to my disadvantage. There was talk within the league and speculation among the press that I wanted to renegotiate my contract for more pay. “No one is quite sure where Ann Meyers is,” wrote the Post Dispatch. “We’d like to know where she is, too,” a spokesperson from the Gems told the paper. It was frustrating because management knew exactly where I was. I was waiting to be paid in full for the previous season.
My relationship with the WBL had been fraught from the beginning, yet I tried to make an earnest go of it. I’d made umpteen appearances for them and shown up for dozens of dinners and receptions with sponsors, all unpaid. I had no obligation under my contract to make these promotional appearances, but I did it because I knew how important it was to promote the league and the N.J. Gems, and in return they wrote me a bad check for $10,000. It was literally a federal offense.
I spoke to David endlessly about whether or not I should bite the bullet and return to play for the Gems and hope for the best. Part of me wanted him to say that I should return to New Jersey because I wanted to play basketball so badly. But there was a principle involved which neither David nor I could ignore. It wasn’t about the money, but about how a professional player deserved to be treated, and the Gems treated their players like they were doing us a favor by allowing us to play a sport we loved.
Blaze tried to change my mind. “You gotta come back, Annie. With you and me, the Gems would smoke every other team in the league.”
I sympathized with her because she had experienced her fair share of frustration. Blaze had made the ’80 Olympics. however, with the boycott, there was no ’80 team. Now that she had signed on with the Gems, she wanted me there with her.
“I want to, Blaze, I really do.” And I meant it. She and I had played with and against each other on several teams over the years, and not only did I respect her as a player, but we’d become good friends. But that wasn’t a big enough reason to go back. I talked over the situation with Don, whom I’d been seeing a lot more of since I’d returned to the West Coast. He agreed with me that I should wait for the Gems to pay me.
By now Don had told me he loved me, and I knew that I loved him, but I didn’t know how things would turn out. Just like the untenable situation with the Gems, I had to have faith that things would fall into place between Donnie and me. I didn’t worry about it. Instead, I directed my energy toward training for the upcoming Superstars. And there, I didn’t need hope or faith. Now that I had developed my strategy, I knew I could rely on that and my ability coupled with hard work.
Since the Gems still hadn’t made good on the money they owed me, I had the time to train for six to eight hours a day, preparing physically and mentally. It was a grueling schedule. I worked out with a swimming coach a couple of times a week, learning how to properly turn on the wall and stroke correctly. After that, I would drive up to L.A. and work with my old Olympic trainer, Gail Weldon, who owned a health club. She would set me up lifting weights and working with her for about an hour before I would go down to the local high school to run the stairs and the track.
One of the events I chose was rowing, so I ended my day by driving to Long Beach where my friend, Monica Havelka, was a rower. We’d get in a boat and row for a few miles. I also played a good deal of tennis with Dan Campbell, the tennis coach at Long Beach State, where he helped me work on my serve, backhand, and conditioning. I also hit hundreds of golf balls, working on my chipping and drive. By the time my second Superstars came, I was completely confident it was mine to win.
Among the other contestants that year were Martina Navratilova, Rosie Casals, the long-time rebel of women’s tennis, who, along with Billie Jean King, was one of the driving forces behind equalizing award payments to female and male tennis players, and Lynette Woodard, an All-American basketball player from the University of Kansas who later made headlines in 1985 as the first female Harlem Globetrotter.
I couldn’t help but smile when I learned Lynette began shooting baskets as a little girl using a stuffed sock. She wasn’t the
only one who developed fierce determination at a young age. Ironically, Trotter player, Fred ‘Curly’ Neal, first approached me with his idea of having a woman on the Globetrotters in the summer of 1984, but TV Guide ran with the story prematurely. Ultimately, Curly and I decided that the team should remain all African-American. Lynette’s cousin, Hubert “Geese” Ausbie, was a Globetrotter, and Lynette seemed the perfect candidate. During Lynette’s tryout, she graciously told the press that it was my signing with the Pacers that gave her the courage to do it.
This year’s Superstars took place in Florida, which was a perfect excuse for a Meyers family get-together. Of course Don and Ueckie were there broadcasting for ABC.
I hoped it would be an opportunity for Mom to get to know Donnie a little better. It was hard for me to tell whether she liked him as much as she did when she’d first met him. It was now obvious to her that we were becoming very close and I’m sure she worried about our age difference and his strong personality. She probably wondered if he was too fixed in his ways. It was true Don knew exactly what he wanted, and he usually got it, but I considered that to be an admirable trait. Mom saw things differently. She understood better than anyone how basically timid I was when it came to most things outside of sports and she had always been my protector because of that. I think she worried I might get in over my head with Don. She had no reason to worry, though, not about Donnie, or anything else.
Florida’s heat and humidity weren’t going to take their toll on me as had happened the previous year in the Bahamas. This time, I carefully considered the hour of the day that I’d have to compete in the most strenuous events. I chose the 100 yd. dash, the obstacle course, chipping, swimming, the quarter mile, and rowing. I ran a quarter-mile in under a minute, set an obstacle course record, won the tennis event, landed six inches from the cup on an 80-yard chip, and ultimately came in first overall to win that year’s Women’s Superstars, and the $50,000 purse. My win must have sent some executives’ minds into overdrive because I was thrilled at what came next.
You Let Some Girl Beat You? Page 13