Have you ever wanted to do more for women's basketball than just sit back and enjoy?
Me too. I'd racked my brains for years and made a few false starts. This year I finally decided to get off my butt and do something!
One reason for my resolution was simple: I was bored. I thought of all the things I could do to fill the time -- cross-stitch, read, play with the computer. It all seemed so empty.
I was bored. I thought of all the things I could do to fill the time -- cross-stitch, read, play with the computer. It all seemed so empty.
Then it hit me. Why not do something constructive with my time? What could I volunteer for that I really believe in? I recalled some reading I had done recently about girls in sport. I remembered a speech given by the associate athletic director at the women's basketball banquet. I realized just how much I missed basketball. Volunteering at basketball camp was perfect.
Let me clue you in on a basic aspect of my personality; I'm not a go-getter. I like to sit back and wait for things to come to me. Yet somewhere I found the courage to pick up that phone and take the initiative. I'm glad I did.
I had an inauspicious start. I sat there at the table between the administrative assistant and an assistant coach. We had a pleasant chat. I had never volunteered at a camp before. They had never used a volunteer at camp. We didn't know what to do with each other. I left feeling a little dubious.
'We'll call you,' they said. I wondered if my venture would ever get off the ground.
When I hadn't heard anything in a couple of weeks and camp was drawing closer, I sent an e-mail to the administrative assistant. The reply came two days later. 'We don't know how to use you yet. We'll let you know.'
I had a sinking feeling. Maybe I never should have called in the first place. Then the next week it finally happened. They were getting ready for the first camp. Could I work on a couple hours each on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons? Of course I could!
When the first Tuesday I was to work came around, I could hardly get through the day. I was so anxious to finally get started. Let me tell you, it was exciting! I spent my two hours folding letters and stuffing them in envelopes.
Routine, you say? Boring? Under normal circumstances perhaps. But I did it in the head coach's office. I saw the next season's schedule. It was tentative, but I saw it nonetheless. Suddenly I felt like an insider.
My next few visits to the office involved making hundreds of copies, putting together the head coach's organizer and blowing up basketballs. I would blow up hundreds of basketballs during my volunteer stint. It's all in the context.
I was given the keys to the locker room. Thatıs where I blew up the balls and I watched highlight videos while I was doing it.
I cut short a vacation to begin working when the campers arrived. No one told me when to be there or what I would be doing so I thought it prudent to be at the meeting. I felt odd during the introductions. Everyone stood up and said where they had coached or played. I didn't have any such experience. I felt like all the eyes were on me saying, 'What the heck is she doing here?'
I didn't really have an assignment for that day. The next day I helped the site coordinators. This involved standing around a lot and not feeling so useful. I was told that I would be running a site by myself the next day. That threw me into a tizzy, let me tell you!
When I arrived at the site I thought I was supposed to run it seemed under control. The coordinator there said no, you're supposed to be somewhere else. I went there. That was under control as well. Then the assistant coach came and told me I was supposed to be at the first place, but they didn't need me there anyway. To tell you the truth, I was a little relieved. I didn't feel at all ready to run things on my own.
I finally found my niche and felt useful on the last day of the first session. I set up the awards. I helped hand out the departing goodies -- like certificates, basketballs (most of which I had blown up myself!) and posters.
By the last session of camp I'd be telling the counselors how they could best help me. Hard to believe considering how timid I felt that first day. After all the kids were done, the head coach invited me out to lunch with her assistants. I was amazed. I met the new assistant coach before her name was announced to the public. 'Wow, this is cool!' I thought.
The next camp got easier. I knew more what was expected of me. I did the usual copying and envelope stuffing to prepare. I blew up yet more balls. I did some word processing to prepare the letters. It went a lot easier.
When I got to registration I was assigned to run the camp store. That made me happy. It was something for me. It was my domain. I met a lot of the girls this way. Also, the players came in to get their free goodies. Anyone who worked at the camp got free stuff from the store.
This is where I started to see the players as people. I think that I'll be more understanding once the season starts.
When I was done working in the store -- which was only open while there weren't any teaching sessions going on -- I got to choose where I would help. I went to help with the youngest girls.
'This is what makes it all worthwhile,' I thought, when I saw the pure joy on their little faces. I helped gather up the basketballs between sessions. I also got four free sessions on shooting from one of the best pure shooters Iıve ever seen. You can't beat that.
Of course, working at camp wasn't all so glamorous. I walked the coach's dog. (Not that I minded. She's a really cute dog. It just seemed like a little bit of an odd thing for a camp volunteer to do.) Then there's the ball closet of doom. That's a story in itself.
The day before the last camp was to start I was sent down to the locker room to make sure we had enough balls, about 500, to give to all the kids once camp was over. Well, I only counted about 75 balls. That concerned me.
I trudged up the zillion stairs to the basketball office to report this distressing news. The administrative assistant looked concerned for a moment before a look of revelation crossed her face. She knew where some more balls were and she was going to show me. We went back to the ancient field house. There was a small ticket booth near one of the entrances. She opened it.
'Here are some more,' she said. Indeed there were. My mouth fell open as I confronted the small closet-sized room filled to the ceiling. 'There should be enough in here,' she said. She returned to the office, leaving me to count the balls and move them into the locker room.
There was a pallet wedged into the doorway to stop the balls from tumbling out. I couldn't move it. So I climbed over the pallet and found myself sitting on top of the pile of balls. I threw them out of the room into a huge gray cart as I counted them. In the hour and a half I had left, I couldn't finish the task.
One more anecdote before I close. The players work their hearts out at this camp, but I believe they love every minute of it. One day when I peered into the lounge at the dorm where counselors and attendees were lodged, I noticed counselors sprawled out all over the floor and couches. They were obviously exhausted. One counselor had just settled herself in for a short nap, head nestled on her backpack, when a girl tapped her on the shoulder. The little one wanted an autograph. The counselor offered the girl a warm smile, signed her shirt, and went back to sleep.
I'll always think of that moment as one that defined how dedicated these counselors are to being good role models for the girls.
I look at the field house and the dorm where everything took place a little differently. I wonder what sparks were kindled to make these girls want to be college players. I think of how those two or three days could make a big difference in their lives. I'm so glad I was a part of it.
8/18/97
