You Let Some Girl Beat You? (9 page)

Bill and Billie had arranged for our accommodations at the dorm by ringing up William “Hunter” Low, known as the “Father of the Kodak/All-America Team.” Hunter was the manager of the US sports and events program for the Kodak Company. I'd already received two of the prestigious Kodak All American Awards, so I knew Hunter and liked him.

One day, Hunter invited us up to a Kodak executive's home on the lake in Rochester. I had never seen anything like it before. The large main house was surrounded by well-tended lawns and gardens commanded a sweeping view of the lake. Everyone snapped pictures of the view and of each other, completely oblivious to the historic significance those pictures might have. After all, we were going to be the first US Women's Basketball Team to the Olympics.

The press didn't seem to care much except when the Chinese women's basketball team scrimmaged with us. It was a first for the communist country and, at that, the press only took one group photo of both teams. I don't remember any photographers following us around, not even emissaries from Kodak! I took comfort in my own thoughts.
They'll wish they'd have snapped a few pictures of us once we medal at the Olympics.

We finally got to Hamilton for the qualifiers on June 22 and knew it was do-or-die time. We were placed in a preliminary round pool along with France, Mexico, and Poland. We tore through the first contest for an 80-57 victory over Mexico, then went on to defeat France 71-59, and closed out the preliminaries with an 84-66 trouncing of Poland.

USA and Poland, with a 2-1 record, advanced from Group A to the final round. In Group B, which included Bulgaria, Cuba, Great Britain, Italy, and South Korea, there was a three-way tie atop the standings, as Bulgaria, Cuba, and South Korea had identical 3-1 records. FIBA's tie-breaking formula dictated that Bulgaria and Cuba head to the final round to face the United States and Poland.

In the round robin play we clobbered Cuba 89-73. Now there was just Bulgaria remaining for the championship to determine who would be first or second to go to Montreal. We knew it would be a difficult and very physical game. The Bulgarians were a veteran team who knew how to play with each other. Their timing was nearly perfect because they'd had so much experience together, and that can make all the difference. Even so, basketball was still the United States' game. We had the same mentality as the guys: This is
our
game and only
we
know how to really play it.

But it was tough. Thanks to Billie and Sue's coaching, we just squeezed out a final win over Bulgaria 76-75 to take the first of the two remaining berths.

Bill Wall's relief at our win was palpable because it meant he would be reimbursed by the IOC for the charges he'd accumulated. He didn't just wipe his brow and sigh. His mop of white hair got the once-through with his handkerchief, and he nearly cracked his face with his smile. We were no longer flying without a net. We were an official Olympic team. From the time I was ten, I'd expected to go to the Olympics as a high jumper. Now I was going as a basketball player. I'd had my plans, but it appeared as though Life had had its own plan. Meeting somewhere in the middle was just fine by me.

My dad came up to Hamilton for the qualifiers, along with David, his wife, Linda, and their new daughter, Crystal. It was good to see him and David, but I was a bound up ball of nerves. We were all still uneasy around Dad. I was excited he was there to see me play, but he'd left Mom by then, and it didn't sit well with me. There was also still some strain between my dad and David, and I just hoped everyone would get along. But it was hard. He was a complicated man, and our feelings about him, no less so.

Before Havlicek, or any of the other masters from whom we drew inspiration, our greatest idol had always been our father. He was a tenacious football player and a gifted basketball player who married and started a family at a time when pro ball didn't pay enough to support a family of four, let alone a family of thirteen.

Now his own marriage had unraveled like a rope under too big a strain of a load it wasn't meant to bear, so he left. Actually, he'd been moving out of the La Habra home for years, taking off for weeks at a time only to return out of the blue. I know it was an intensely difficult time for my mother, who was trying to comprehend where her life had taken her and how she could be left to raise so many young children alone. Outwardly she took her licks, complaining little, and always the stalwart. Inwardly, I know she was crumbling.

Dad told me he was proud that I'd played well against Bulgaria. However I may have felt about him for hurting Mom, his opinions on how well I played still mattered to me. There was a hidden part of me that was still a small child, wanting his approval. I told myself I wasn't being disloyal to Mom by being civil to Dad.
Allegiance
. The very word meant you had to pick sides. Fine for playing a game, horrible when you're talking about a family.

As for Mom, I knew that she, Mark, and Frannie would come later to Montreal to watch the Olympic Games, and I was looking forward to that. But for now, I was with Dad, and a nervous wreck. I needed to focus on what I had come here to do, and that meant playing well in Montreal and not letting anything distract me, not even the family baggage that had flung itself into the backseat during this crucial trip.

Being on the road and living with a bunch of women was an open invitation to all kinds of new things. For instance, Lucy Harris taught me how to pack a suitcase. I wasn't exactly new to the idea of packing, but Lucy had one up on me, as we packed for Montreal. “If you roll your clothes instead of fold ‘em, you'll fit more into your suitcase and less of it will get wrinkled.” Who was I to argue the logic?

Lucy Harris and I had played on several teams together and we just clicked. At 6'3”, she was a specimen by nature and a seamstress by necessity. She had to make all her own clothes because she was such a big gal. And she managed to keep that wardrobe wrinkle-free.

I'd never met anyone so meticulous about her clothing, but I would be, too, if I had to create and cut patterns, then sew everything together. I, on the other hand, was like speedy Gonzales with respect to clothing, packing, eating, playing, and everything else. I wanted to get things done
now
. Not Lucy. She took her time both on and off the courts, which frustrated all of us because we liked to play fast.

Part of her style had to do with the specific type of game she'd played while at Delta State, where the coach, Margaret Wade, believed in a very deliberate post-up offense. Lucy was our center, and she could rebound like nobody else. Once she had the ball, however, she took her sweet time getting down the court. We liked to run the ball, but we'd have to wait for Lucy to set up in the post. When she got there, though, boy was she strong inside.

The qualifying games had given us a chance to practice together as a team, readying ourselves for the Olympics, which were now only days away. Since Hamilton, Ontario was just fifty minutes from Niagara Falls, Bill, Billie, and some of the others decided we had time to view the Falls from the Canadian border before heading to Montreal. The mist coated our faces as we all lined up against the rail to gaze upon the breathtaking view. The rumble of the falls made it hard to hear anything other than my own thoughts. I considered how many places I'd seen, courtesy of my basketball career, and here was another. It was a chance for all of us to relax and to gear up psychologically.

Wiping the moisture off my face, I contemplated our chances. It was no secret that the Russians were considered the best in the world due to their undefeated record for nearly two decades. But basketball was still a U.S. game. The Americans simply played it better than anyone else. Likewise, I'd trained myself to go into every competition believing we would win, no matter what. I'd learned a long time ago that success begins with one's will. It's a state of mind. The moment you think you're outclassed, you are.

That day at the Falls was July 3
^rd
, 1976, the day before the country's bicentennial. I was reminded that believing in oneself, having that winning attitude against all odds, wasn't just part of being a Meyers, or an athlete—it was part of the American spirit. And I decided that no Soviet team, no matter how great, could ever eclipse that.

As we turned to leave Niagara Falls, the sun peeked through mist, causing a full rainbow to appear above the crashing water below. I saw it as a prophetic sign that the pot of gold was within reach.

________

¹
The International Basketball Federation, originally the
French Federation
Internationale de Basket-ball.

²
American Basketball Assoc. USA, the governing body for Women's Basketball before the IOC

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”
~ Winston Churchill

Once we got to Montreal, the twelve of us stayed in one, two-bedroom apartment with two bunks in each room and four beds in the living area. Since there was only one bathroom, we'd use the kitchen sink to brush our teeth. I was from a big family so I knew how to share a bathroom, but I missed having some semblance of privacy. Privacy or not, the accommodations were a far cry from the ramshackle dorms we'd been living in. But aside from all that, we were living in Olympic Village, so there was a sense of reverence. We'd made it to the Olympics!

Security was everywhere, so we knew everyone would be well-guarded. After the '72 Olympics in Munich, where eleven Israeli athletes were taken hostage by Palestinian gunmen and killed, Olympic security was ramped up to the max.

If it wasn't security, it was politics. The Republic of China (Chinese Taipei) and the People's Republic of China had boycotted the games denouncing each other's legitimacy. When we first arrived, we were told not to unpack because there was still a chance that the U.S. might walk out if the issue regarding Taipei and China was not resolved to our country's liking. And Africa boycotted because of apartheid.

For an athlete, the opportunity to compete against the world's best on this most esteemed platform means everything. Olympic medals can only be attained through the intersection of three things: ability, desire, and opportunity, and that opportunity only comes every four years. Back in the 70s that was a narrow span in the life of a world-class American athlete because you had to be an amateur. Back then, the majority of U.S. athletes competed in one or two Olympics, if they were lucky. There were few Al Oreters or Wyllie Whites who competed in four or five Olympics.

A lot of the players on my team felt it unfair that the international teams were paid by their countries and were still considered amateurs. Not only were they making a livable wage, but they were also growing stronger as a team because they were able to stay together for a long time, whereas we'd only be together for a few weeks at a time. But when anyone started to grumble about it, the coaches told us to knock it off. Focusing on our resentments would only destroy the team from the inside, like a cancer. We needed to focus on our strengths. Besides, it still wasn't certain that we were even staying.

Once it was finally determined that the U.S. would not be pulling out, we relaxed and got to know our surroundings. The Olympic Village had the most enormous cafeteria I'd ever seen, and during the midday meal, everyone from Nadia Comaneci to Edwin Moses, Bruce Jenner, and Sugar Ray Leonard were there.

The games were opened by Queen Elizabeth II, as head of state of Canada. The queen's daughter, Princess Anne, was there to compete with the British riding team. She was the only female athlete not made to undergo a sex test. It was a first at an Olympics that saw many firsts. The only one we cared about, though, was that the Games of the XXI Olympiad would be the first to include women's basketball.

The opening ceremonies were amazing. I'd marched into a stadium and represented my country before hundreds of thousands of spectators at the Pan Am Games in Mexico. But this was different. Chills goosed up my spine, knowing the whole world was watching. There is nothing more prestigious than the Olympics. Every other competition, from the World Championships to the Jones Cup, was preparation for this.

There I stood along with other U.S. athletes from every sport on the world stage. It was my childhood dream come true. Soaking it all in and hoping to capture a mental image of the moment forever, I beamed with pride as they released the doves and—
splat
—I got nailed. We all knew to take cover when the birds were let out but, uncharacteristically, I wasn't fast enough.

There were six women's basketball teams competing in round robin, meaning every team would play each other. Today there are sixteen teams with four pools, so you could lose in your pool, come in second, and still have a chance at the Gold. In '76 we had to win as many as we could of those five games.

Under Sue Gunter, we had always beat Japan in other competitions except for the one time we played them in Osaka. They played a different style from us. They were quick, good outside shooters, and they passed the ball well. On every play they yelled, “Aye, Aye.” Whether they were cutting cross baseline or to the basket, they were yelling. It was a pattern that worked for them. But hearing their shrieks throughout the game was distracting. We knew it would be tough because now we were without Sue, who was familiar with their unusual style. Sadly, her father had died and she had flown home the previous day.

The game was scheduled for 9:00 a.m., so we got up at 5:00 a.m. each morning to practice. It was the '76 Olympics' first team-sport competition, and Lusia Harris was the first to score that historic basket. She'd end up with seventeen points and seven rebounds; but the Japanese were ultimately the ones to dictate the tempo of the game. We struggled with Sue not sitting on the bench with us and were seriously jarred when they beat us 84-71. Once I got over the shock, I got mad. With all of the training in Warrensburg and Hamilton, had we peaked too soon? I immediately banished the thought. There was no way I'd come this far to jeopardize my dream, not by this loss, not by anything.

“There will be a lot of other women's Olympic basketball teams,” Billie Moore told us that day. “But there will never be another first. You will
always
be the first.” That did it. Everybody toughened up. The second game, we had an easy gain over Bulgaria 95 -79, with Dunkle scoring seventeen points, Trish Roberts scoring sixteen, and I scored fifteen. We'd refocused after the loss to Japan. Best of all, we now had Sue back, which helped Billie.

Two days later we played the host country, Canada, and won 89-75. Many years later, when asked about these Olympics, and me in particular, Billie would say I had the ability to dictate the course of a game all by myself. There was no doubt I wanted to win so badly that I could taste it, but basketball is a team sport. No one person can dictate the course of a game. Billie had put together a winning team and she knew that, more than anything else, I simply wanted to be part of a winning team.

We knew our next game would prove our most daunting. The Russians stood tall when they saw us coming. We were their rivals in all things, so we always commanded their attention. But the U.S. would never come as close to beating the Russians as we did in that game at Felt Forum in 1974. Since then, that three-point loss had been squared, and even cubed, by them. And Semjonova always made sure we felt the full force of her girth and height.

Juliene was one of our strongest defenders, but she'd injured her ankle in the first half.

“Are we ever going to score?” Billie asked Sue when the Russians were up 15-0. By the end of the first quarter, Semjonova had already connected on fifteen straight lay-ups without her size-18-foot ever leaving the ground.

I wondered the same thing. I had a pretty good jump shot, and I was able to get pretty far off the ground. In fact, Dr. Gideon Ariel, director of biomechanics and computer sciences for the US Olympic Committee, would conduct a computer analysis using electrodes—very high tech at the time—and reported in the medical journal that my leaping ability was equivalent to the 1977 world high jump record. Problem was, Semjonova didn't need to jump.

Even though the odds appeared to be against us, I never let myself think for a moment that we might lose. I knew it would be a tough battle, but I never allowed myself to envision any outcome but one: winning. If I was stubborn about most things, I was dead-stubborn about that. The worst thing that can befall athletes is letting their thoughts defeat them, so I stationed a guard-dog inside my head, ready to attack negativity. I played every minute as though it were a one-point game. When we ended up losing to the Russians 112-77 points, I was just as devastated as when we had lost to the Japanese in the first game. The mood was somber at the apartment that night. Losing hurts. Losing to your biggest rival by thirty-five points hurts worse. Semjonova ended up with thirty-two points and nineteen rebounds. We were 2-2, now playing for the Silver.

A photo of me trying to hold Semjonova off after she'd been passed the ball appeared in the papers the next day. “Maybe Ann Meyers (6) should have used an ax…” the caption read. I crumpled it up and threw it away. There was still the Silver. It wasn't over until the fat lady sang.

After the Russians, our last game was against Czechoslovakia. We
had
to win that game. The score was tied at half time 37-37. We went into the second half playing pressure defense, and ultimately beat the Czechs 83-67 to take the Silver Medal.

U.S. beat Bulgaria, Canada, and Czechoslovakia.

Bulgaria beat Japan, Canada, and Czechoslovakia

Russia beat everybody.

Of course, they weren't called Russia back then, they were the Soviet Union, and by the end of the Olympic Games, they'd totaled up 125 medals, 49 of which were Gold, including the Gold for Women's Basketball. The United States ranked second in total medals (94) and third in Gold Medals (34), after East Germany, which garnered 40 Gold Medals, for a grand total of 90 Medals.

There's nothing quite like that sense of patriotism you get from hearing your national anthem play as the Gold Medal is placed over your head, as I had at the Pan American Games and other competitions. But this was the Olympics, and I was happy to have done as well as we had.

The third place team went up and received the Bronze, and now it was our turn. Once we each had our Silver Medal, we all raised them toward our two coaches, Billie and Sue, as a sign of our respect and love, and then bowed. My heart swelled with pride as our flag was raised. For now, Silver was very sweet.

The U.S. Women's Basketball team would eventually take Olympic Gold, but that would be in large part because the longstanding rivalry between the Soviet Union and the USA would not play out again in this most esteemed international platform for many years to come.

When the Olympics ended, I flew back home with Mom. When the flight attendants announced my name as an Olympian, the whole plane cheered. As usual, I was both proud and embarrassed to be singled out. There were so many small gestures of acknowledgment that followed the Olympics, and each was moving. But when all of the U.S. Olympians were invited to the White House to meet President Ford (introduction compliments of none other than famed Olympian, Jesse Owens), I was overwhelmed. I had no idea it would be the first of four such visits with four different presidents, or that years later when Donnie and I were married and living in the desert, President Ford would come over to play golf at Morningside and invite me to play nine holes with him.

It was still July when I got back to California, and with all the notoriety from the Olympics, I was invited to compete in the annual Dewer's Sports Celebrity Tennis Tournament in Las Vegas with players from the NBA and the NFL. There were a handful of women invited: skier Suzy Chaffee, Diana Nyad, swimmer Donna De Varona, and Wilma Rudolph. I had long admired Wilma for what she had to overcome to be a top athlete. As a young girl, Wilma had polio. She was put in leg braces and told she'd never walk. Wilma not only proved them wrong, but she became an Olympic Gold Medal sprinter. I had always been inspired by her story of courage as a young girl myself, and I was glad now for the chance to become friends.

I also became good friends with some of the guys, such as Joe Washington, Walter Payton, Calvin Murphy, John Havlicek, Franco Harris, Rick Barry, Paul Westphal, John Naber, Julius Erving, and Hank “Hammerin' Hank” Greenberg. Hank was in his late sixties while the rest of us were in our twenties. In comparison, he seemed ancient at the time. But older or not, he was one terrific tennis player. His placement was superb, and he could return anything you shot over the net. We played hard, but there were some nice benefits. After the tennis, we'd lay out by the pool with the families and take in dinner and a show, while others would gamble.

Since I was still just a kid in college, I'd suck in my breath watching some of these guys throw away a fair amount of money in those casinos. Then again, as older, more established athletes who were men, they were also earning a whole lot more money than I was, so it was a matter of perspective, I guess.

“Here's a fifty, see if you can parlay it into a grand,” Hank said to me more than once. I'd take the $50, then promptly lose it at the roulette table. But each time he gave me the money, he always made it clear that if I
did
win, I was to keep it. Hank was wonderful to me.

However, it was during the afternoons that I had the most fun. Following the tennis exhibitions, before the casinos and shows, a bunch of us would high-tail it to the local gym to play basketball. The football players stormed the hard court no differently than they did the football field, so you had to get out of their way on a drive or you could easily end up a mangled human doormat. But even if you couldn't stop Franco Harris, you
could
block his shots. I remember 5'9” Calvin blocking one of Harris's shot off the backboard. There must have been four feet between his soles and the ground, he got so high.

Julius Erving brought his family, and we all hit it off. It's funny, we can never know who we'll click with in life, but Julius and his wife, Turquoise, became like a brother and sister to me from the very start. Later, if I happened to be back East, sometimes I would stay at Turq and Julius's home in Philadelphia when Julius was playing for the 76'ers. I always missed family when I was on the road, but not when I was with Turq and Julius. They
were
family.

A couple of afternoons, Turq and Franco's wife, Dana, took me through the Las Vegas boutiques to try on clothes and pick out purses, which has its own irony since I seldom used a purse, and rarely do today. But they were great, and I loved them for that.