Title IX opening doors for young women athletes

The only sound was the slow tapping of the worn-out blade of my brother's street hockey stick as he rolled a balding tennis ball back and forth in front of him. He eyed the ball as he toyed with it at his feet and then looked up, showing off his much-practiced stare of intimidation.

I was Patricia Roy leading the Montreal Canadiens to an unprecedented 10th-straight Stanley Cup. The crowd at the Forum gasped and roared every time I robbed the enemy Penguins of a sure goal. Of course, it wasn't easy facing Mario Lemieux every afternoon when he got home from school.

Instead of spending my childhood imagining my wedding day or practicing my cheerleading skills, I imagined I was Patricia Roy in the net and Jenny Rice on the field. My daydreams were set to "We Are the Champions" instead of the "Wedding March."

When the boys in my neighborhood went out to play soccer in the backyard, I was slide-tackling and throwing elbows just like they did. If it seemed like a baseball kind of day, I got my glove and proved throwing like a girl can be a good thing.

And if the game of choice were hockey, I picked up my stick and had the same NHL fantasies as every kid who ever rushed through imagined defenders to the sound of his own voice calling the play-by-play. It didn't matter that there was a ponytail peeking out from under my helmet.

I grew up under the protection of Title IX without ever realizing it was there.

When it came time to play in organized youth leagues, having boys and girls as my teammates seemed natural. I wouldn't have believed that a few years before this was unheard of.

As we all got older it became obvious to me the playing field was tilting in favor of the boys who had been my teammates and competitors. They all seemed to grow a foot taller and significantly stronger, while all I got was a training bra. By the time we were ready for high school, separate but equal became the goal.

Of course, there were always guys who thought the girls' teams were automatically inferior. They swore they would rather read Shakespeare than have to watch a girls' basketball or soccer game. Basketball wasn't basketball unless the players could dunk.

But the point of Title IX and gender equity in sports isn't that women should be allowed to compete on the same field with men. Obviously, there are certain physical facts of life that give men an advantage over women in most sports. Stand Lisa Leslie next to Shaquille O'Neal, and it's clear who has the advantage.

What is beginning to be accepted, however, is that female athletes can be every bit as skilled and talented as men. Women's sports can be just as exciting to watch as men's. And, most importantly, every girl deserves the opportunity to recap the physical and emotional benefits that come from playing sports.

It is sad that so many women grew up without the chance to experience the camaraderie of a team that practices and plays together every day. No one ever let them discover the rush that comes from scoring a goal, running a personal best or serving an ace. They never felt the satisfaction that comes from pushing yourself to the limit to accomplish your goals.

Handing a girl a bat and ball isn't going to solve society's problems, but it can help. For example, women who play sports are statistically more likely to avoid the traps of teenage pregnancy and abusive relationships.

Thanks to a law passed four years before I was born, the expectations placed on female and male athletes are nearly the same. Of course there are still inequities, but Title IX has changed the world for girls and women who had been kept off courts, fields, rinks and tracks.

I see and appreciate the progress that continues for the next generation of great athletes. Girls no longer have to pretend they are Michelle Jordan or Stacey Pippen -- they can be Sheryl Swoopes or Rebecca Lobo.

Even Patricia Roy has retired. After all, it wasn't easy winning 10 Stanley Cups by herself.