Tag: la sparks (page 1 of 1)

No.

Unless we’re traveling, like we were this most recent season when Angel Reese and the Dream came to town and dropped a 40-piece on our heads, it’s hard to convince me to give up games featuring the league’s most exciting teams and stars. I acquiesced, under protest, to giving up an early-season Dallas Wings game.

I want to see the stars play!

Well, with one exception.

Like many of our season-ticket-holder friends, we have gladly and quickly put our Indiana Fever tickets on the market whenever they’ve come to town. It has nothing to do with the basketball or their players. The Fever and their high-octane offense are thrilling to watch. Hell, I was in the arena in Vegas last year for that overtime Game 5 semi-finals instant classic. There’s a financial component, sure. Those games tend to command a premium on the resale market, but the main reason is that when that team’s fans show up in any other WNBA arena across the country, the vibes are off.

Fever fans arrive with a brashness that doesn’t feel good-natured. They don’t enter an opposing team’s venue as guests interested in supporting their team and enjoying the game as a community. No, they show up like barbarians trying to overwhelm, conquer, and intimidate. As has become a common refrain on social media, it’s not all Fever fans, but it’s always a Fever fan.

They come with the same kind of energy I experience at Los Angeles Chargers games. At SoFi, I accept the norms of NFL fandom. The aggressiveness comes with the ticket.

That’s not the WNBA fan culture.

After their home loss in the second game of this year’s WNBA Finals, Golden State Valkyries fans in attendance stayed past regulation time shouting “G-S-V!” as their team walked off the court defeated and the Atlanta Dream celebrated. I had never seen anything quite like that, but it reflected how women’s sports fans operate. Those Bay Area fans have decided that their primary function is to lift up their team. Valkyries fans “pride themselves on making noise without making nonsense.”

For the Dream, the party atmosphere they developed in their tiny home arena expanded to fill State Farm Arena for game three, with a very Atlanta-specific Black energy that was as warm as it was a ruckus. It was a cookout and Dirty South concert, all in service of supporting their team and being entertained as a family. They even figured out how to deflate a bad actor’s antics by offering him service with a smile as he entered the arena.

So when someone says about Fever fans’ antics, “that’s just what sports fans do, get used to it,” I’m Becky Hammon:

Cartoon on a red-orange background.Becky Hammon, wearing oversized glasses, hoop earrings, and a pinstripe suit, leans into a press-conference microphone and says, “No.” Beside her, A'ja Wilson in a gray sweatshirt peels a banana and stares sideways, wide-eyed. Signed Thee W Artiste.
Illustration by Thee W Artiste

No, we really don’t have to accept that behavior at all.

For long-time women’s sports fans, there’s an existing culture that doesn’t include the kinds of obnoxiousness that dominate those other spaces. As we open the tent and welcome this expanding fandom, we can maintain those sensibilities while making it more inclusive.

On a recent episode of The Grill Room podcast, Jason Wright of Ariel Investments’ Project Level says the research shows that this growth period in women’s sports is expanding rather than recycling the sports audience.

Our best estimates suggest that, across all women’s sports franchises, the overlap with their men’s counterpart season-ticket bases is very, very low. Low teens and below in the overlap. So this is a net-new fan who is now participating.

These “net-new fans” come in with little frame of reference for established men’s sports culture. In fact, they are likely engaging with women’s sports because it’s explicitly not that.

As Emily Tisch Sussman, co-owner of the NWSL’s Gotham FC, puts it, “Traditionally, we’ve had fandom built through generations, top down, the grandfather to the father, maybe to the daughters, maybe to the granddaughters. When we think about building fandom in the women’s space, we don’t have that.”

This means that women’s sports fans don’t have to replicate, emulate, mimic, or accept what men’s sports or their fans do. It’s critical that we establish new, wholly authentic ways of being sports fans that don’t center the kinds of things that are acceptable in those other leagues. We can’t let the worst tendencies of other professional sports fans become the norm where women play. The outcomes are already more dangerous when they do. Women athletes get seven times more violent threats per capita than men, and abuse aimed at women targets identity rather than performance.

It’s telling that, in the comments on this piece in The Athletic about the reckoning the Fever organization is going through this off-season, many Indiana fans try to reconcile their experience through the lens of how they participate as Pacers fans. The refrain seems to be, well, this is how we act for our NBA team; we’re just, perhaps, louder for Caitlin Clark and the Fever.

It misses the point entirely. Even if they share a state, an ownership group, and an arena, your WNBA team lives in a different house, and there are different rules.

So, take off your shoes, bring something nice for the host, and show us that you know how to act right.

Melting Ice


What’s one thing that would instantly improve your city?

WordPress Daily Prompt

You and me in it, and ICE out of it.

I walked Duke through the idyllic streets of our neighborhood just south of the Boulevard this morning. Several other neighbors were doing the same. We greeted each other with smiles and nods and salutations. I grabbed a poop bag from one of the makeshift community offerings. My container was empty, and I had forgotten to fill it before taking our four-legged houseguest out to do his business. And business he had! That little anonymous bit of care we do for each other is just one of the ways we are neighborly here.

Just two miles away, though, ICE agents were likely lined up outside exits around municipal buildings in Van Nuys, waiting to scoop up unsuspecting folks as they were released from a weekend stay in jail or finishing up their appointments in our local courthouse. Perhaps they were even running them down on the road. There’s nothing neighborly about that.

Yesterday, for the second Sunday in a row, I was enjoying time with the Sparks faithful. Lisa Leslie was honored with a statue outside of Crypto.com Arena STAPLES Center. Inside the arena, Nneka Ogwumike reached another milestone in her penultimate home game. The Sparks won in impressive fashion, finding their footing too late in the season to make the playoffs, but playing with a joy and generosity toward their retiring legend that has been infectious. I’m mourning the end of our season here in Los Angeles. I’m mourning the end of our time sitting on the floor, too, as the league’s success prices us out of our preferred premium seating. But our friends aren’t going anywhere, and neither are we. This is our community too.

Recently in Louisville, ICE agents detained Aminata Seck, a student-athlete on Kentucky State’s women’s basketball team, at an airport and have held her for a month and a half (Internet Archive). The Senegalese-born student is recovering from an ACL injury that required surgery. That confluence of events is likely what caused her to miss an immigration check-in. Her coach has stepped up, and now a lawyer has stepped in, but the agency shows no compassion and seems intent on doing harm. Pushing back on these transgressions requires a herculean community effort.

As that lawyer, Sadiqa Reynolds, puts it: “It’s just so easy for us to get desensitized.” She continued: “There are so many people being picked up and arrested and taken and gone for days, weeks, months, years, and we can’t forget that their whole family’s completely disrupted.”

Louisville isn’t Los Angeles, but of course what’s happening there is happening here.

These are the kinds of things that ran through my head as I sat with two of my dearest friends last Friday afternoon for a late lunch in Burbank. Our conversation centered on our lamentations and frustrations with how difficult it has become to “hang out,” even when we were clearly hanging out. As were many others in the middle of the day. Our plans weren’t hard to make. They weren’t exactly impromptu, but they also weren’t elaborate or complicated. We all have lots going on, sure, and our digital lives, the ongoing aftermath of pandemic living, and the inertia we find ourselves in as we age all play a part. We aren’t too busy to hang, though. And for the most part, we aren’t living in fear that we’ll be kidnapped by federal agents because we missed an appointment or made a mistake on some paperwork.

We should be choosing the warm embrace, laughter, and comfort of our loved ones IRL. We should be choosing to do what we can to protect our neighbors who are afraid to leave their homes.

We should be in spaces so that ICE can’t be.

We should be together so ICE can’t break us apart.

Los Angeles is for everyone.

Except those bastards.

51

Tiffany asked me what I wanted for my 51st year, and my quick answer was “to get to the money.”

To sit courtside at Los Angeles Sparks games and say hi to Dee, our favorite bartender in the Delta Sky lounge.

To travel for basketball reasons on a whim. To join our wealthier friends in donating to the arts.

To become fluent in opera.

To be a patron of the spaces that generate the vibes I want to see in the world.

We stood in line at the home opener for ACFC, surrounded by people who want to live in the same inclusive, collaborative, and supportive society that I want, and that’s what I desire.

More of this.

More reminders that the chaos on our screens isn’t always reflective of the realities of our neighborhoods.

I want to love my neighbor like atoms sharing a cell.

I want to love my body like a turtle loves its shell. 

I want to be where joy is.

I want to be joy.

I want joy.

Joy.

What do I want in my 51st year? 

To rain down joy on my loved ones and enemies alike. 

I want to be a warrior of light.

Invitation

“I wasn’t planning to stay.”

— Norman Connors (featuring Adaritha)

I’m now accepting invitations. In just a few days, I will be two weeks beyond my covid vaccination and open for socializing. If you are similarly inoculated, please extend and accept invites for in-person hangouts inside and outside of doors for varying lengths of time. We might stand closer to each other than six feet apart and remove our masks for a bit. Hugs are appreciated but not required.

Are we enjoying a little outdoor dining? How many times will we remark, “it’s so good to see your face!”? I’ve been slowly stepping out into the world these last few days. I sat outside a coffee shop for 15 minutes people watching and, you know what, “It’s so good to see your faces,” even if I’ve never seen them before. Maybe we can do that at Republique or Black Market or splurge at Vespertine. Perhaps we’re lining up for Ditroit or La Autentica Birrieiria or daybird?

How will we get to this meat space meet-up? Will we carpool? Maybe. Will I take the bus? Maybe, yes. Will I take the metro? Maybe, no.

Will it be to see some art together? Like the Amy Sherald exhibit or Yoshimoto Nara at LACMA? CAAM has several exciting shows closing in May, while Craft Contemporary is opening Making Time in the same month.

Want to go to a game? LAFC and the Sparks should be accepting an increasing number of fans this summer.

I don’t think I’m yet ready for a concert, but I’ll go to the movies with ya.

Are there momentous events of the last year that should be acknowledged, celebrated, or mourned? Let’s do that.

Maybe we’re just taking a walk or sitting in a park or hanging out at your house or mine. I didn’t do nearly enough outdoor hangs as I should or could have over the past 13 months. Still, I would like to take our seeming collective increased appreciation for our habitat with me into what comes next.

You’re invited.

Take my hand.

Let’s go.

Sparkle City

“Let my cheer be my guide.” – Shuggie Otis, Sparkle City

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grinerwin.jpggrinerwin.jpg

This shot ruined my Monday night.

It also was the end of the best game I saw all season and the end of the 2013 run for my Los Angeles Sparks.

Yes, my LA Sparks. I’ve long enjoyed women’s basketball. From their dream team to the launch of the WNBA and those amazing nike commercials…

 

…from Dawn Staley and Cynthia Cooper to those epic UCONN/Tennessee battles. I just love basketball and the women’s game has always been apart of that.

On TV anyway.

This year, though, Tiffany and I have been even more basketball obsessed. We watched as much basketball during the Summer Olympics as we could. We picked up NBA League Pass and went to several Clippers games. Both the men’s and women’s NCAA tournaments were outstanding this year and the NBA Playoffs were fan-tastic as the tagline used to say.

We also attended Sparks games. Initially, the goal was to catch The 3 to See and maybe catch Angel McCoughtry (one of my favorite players) and our friend’s beloved Lynx but after the first game, we were hooked and Tiffany got a half-season package on the spot.

Being in the arena for these games is infectious. You’re close to the action. The Sparks play great music. You see passionate fans and newbies surprised by how fun it is. The crowd is an interesting mix of folks, many of whom, I’m sure appreciate being able to attend a professional sports game at a reasonable price and not be in the nosebleeds.

It’s one of the only entertainment experiences I’ve ever been to where women aren’t sexualized. There’s no sense of “the male gaze” at a WNBA game. This is about strength and skill and competition. Winning is what matters. Passion.

I have friends that snark on the Sparks as “Team Ponytail” but nobody is trying to look cute on the court. The players are stunning as athletes tend to be but I remark on pretty shots and killer crossovers not faces and outfits.

We ended up seeing almost all of The Sparks home games live and watched several on TV. TWC Sportsnet does a wonderful job of covering the team with respect for the sport and it’s players. They get the same treatment the Lakers do.

And as Brittney Griner’s shot fell and ended the Sparks quest for a championship, I was crestfallen. Almost as broken hearted as I was when Michael Jordan hit that damn shot in the Finals over my Lakers and I knew they had no shot at winning a title that year.

But, there’s always next year. And while the Sparks didn’t win that game, they won us over. I’ve got shirts and schwag and a 2014  season ticket right behind the team bench.

Welcome to Sparkle City. Thank you for a great season.

Let’s go Sparks!