Let’s take a timeout from the Title IX timeline and tell a story of a woman whose involvement in sport spanned pre- and post Title IX years. It’s a baseball story, and I love baseball. I’ve spent almost 20 years attending my son’s ball games, so I understand the deep desire children can have to play the game.*

            But some children were told they couldn’t play.

Banished

            In 1962, 10-year-old Margie Wright arrived early at the ball park in Warrensburg, Illinois, excited about playing in her first Little League baseball game. She was proud of herself. She was the only girl to have made the team.

            This is it! she thought. The start of something big. And Margie had big dreams. “As far back as I can remember, I’d always dreamt of being an Olympian,” she says.**

            The game was about to begin when a group of women came marching across the street, headed for the ball field. The women’s club was holding a meeting at the firehouse across the way and somehow they’d gotten word that Margie — a girl! — was going to play baseball with the boys. And they didn’t like it. 

            The women planted themselves in front of the coach, and in strident voices tinged with anger, they informed him that Margie couldn’t be on his team. Who knows what their reasoning was. Were they jealous that their daughters hadn’t made the team? Were they angry that someone was getting an opportunity they hadn’t had? Did they think girls didn’t belong in sports?

            Margie didn’t know. All she knew was that she was banished from the team. Sent home, she shut herself in her room, where she cried for days.***

Go play with dolls

            The women of 1962 Warrensburg, Illinois, weren’t alone in their view of girls who wanted to play sports. In fact, they pretty much represented the norm of the day. People believed that girls should play with dolls, or play dress up, or at most, ride a bike. But that was it. Girls couldn’t possibly be interested in the rough-and-tumble of sports. They didn’t belong there.

            In gym classes of the day, girls might have been taught to square dance or maybe they were allowed to try out some gymnastics, the balance beam or pommel horse. They did sit-ups and jumping jacks, and for strength training, faced the dreaded knotted climbing rope. If any team sport was available to girls, it was field hockey (except for that sadistic and terrifying war game that was dodge ball!).

            Even if field hockey was on offer, gym teachers most often just handed out sticks and sent girls out on the field to run around aimlessly. (Well, that’s the way it was in my experience anyway!) Warm-ups, drills, coaching, the idea of working together — all of the elements of competitive game play were missing.

            And, of course, gym class required — for girls only, of course —  a special mustard-yellow or cornflower blue gym suit. The one-piece rompers were stiff  and had collars, elastic waists and cuffed legs and fit absolutely no one. I remember exactly how ugly and ungainly I felt in those gym suits!

            Changing into and out of the rompers took up half the class period, leaving no time for any real exercise, let alone a sport. It’s no surprise that for girls, exercise and movement became a chore, an embarrassment, something to be avoided in favor of band and French club, or at best, cheerleading.

            People just didn’t understand someone like Margie, a girl who wanted to play.

            We’ll find out next time what this experience of hurtful discrimination did for Margie — she didn’t cry in her room forever!

                                                ___________________________

*  I’m not slamming baseball for the heck of it. This is just the way my interview schedule turned out. We’ll get to the other sports later, never you fear!

** Margie Wright, interview with the author (February 19, 2021).

*** And what was the deal with that coach anyway? Why did let himself be cowed by this pack of vengeful women? I wish I knew.