Truth, or Why It’s OK If You Don’t Care About The UConn Women’s Basketball Team, by Paul Shirley

Truth, or Why It’s OK If You Don’t Care About The UConn Women’s Basketball Team, by Paul Shirley

A few weeks ago, while preparing to be defeated in a game of Mario Kart (Donkey Kong with the Flame Runner, please), I flipped on the television, where I was greeted by a Sportscenter report done by Jeremy Schaap on the women’s basketball team at the University of Connecticut.

As I write this piece, the UConn women have won 76 basketball games in a row. By the time my 1,690 word manifesto is posted on FlipCollective , they will have won 77 in a row. Soon after most (but before some) people read it, they will have won their 78th consecutive game, which will grant them their second straight national championship.

Relative to the hoopla that would surround a similar run in men’s college basketball, coverage of the UConn women has been anemic, a fact that Schaap and others attribute to the Huskies’ dominance. Because the team brutalizes its opponents with such consistency, the thinking goes, no one cares.

Others suggest that the lack of attention paid to the streak is due to the fact that the UConn women are, well, women – that gender bias is at work. This line of thinking dictates that television viewers don’t care about women’s basketball not because they’ve made a considered viewing decision, but because they’d prefer to see women “barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen”, as then-Stanford women’s coach Tara Van Derveer asserted in 1994.

Neither is really true.  Men and women, it turns out, are not the same.  The differences in our bodies are trumped only by the differences in our minds, as anyone who has ever spent more than 12 minutes in a room with a member of the opposite sex knows.  Those differences are definitely not a bad thing, and almost certainly a good thing.  If we weren’t different, we wouldn’t need one another, and there wouldn’t be any more little men and women running around to take our places when we’re gone.

Simple enough, right?  It would seem that we – long-standing Earth-bound organisms that we are – should be able to talk freely and openly about our differences, commiserating about our respective deficiencies even while we celebrate our capabilities.

But alas, such is not the case.  Because if it were, Jeremy Schaap wouldn’t have to dance around the real reason people don’t watch women’s basketball, which is that women’s basketball is not particularly entertaining and, almost without question, not nearly as fun to watch as the men’s game.

That girls and women participate in sports is entirely positive. Studies have shown that girls who play sports do better over their lives than girls who do not. Furthermore, the idea of women playing high-level, televised sports is perfectly reasonable. If audiences want to watch women play sports, there is no justification for barring that from happening.

But if that audience watches women’s sports and comes to the conclusion that it’s just not as good as the men’s version, that audience ought to be able to express that opinion honestly.  They should be able to say what they think, sans verbal ends-around and codewords, and without fear of being called sexist or unenlightened.  They should be able to tell the truth.

Some years ago, around the time of the publication of “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus”, it seemed that some traction was being found for reasoned discussions about the differences between men and women. After decades of trying to pretend that everyone on the earth was the same, regardless of that person’s needs in the arena of underclothing, we were taking a proverbial deep breath and admitting that men and women are different, and that those differences are a good thing.

But, to my eye, we’ve slipped backward. We’ve decided that different = bad. Any discussion of differences between the genders must mean that those doing the discussing have some ulterior motive, which they will use to hold one of those genders under their rhetorical thumbs. We’ve arrived at a point where we think it’s better to not talk about differences, because only harm can come out of it.

But what if we all understood one another a little better because we were able to admit that men are terrible at multi-tasking, and that women are nearly unwatchable as basketball players?

Some reluctance on the part of women to admit any weakness is understandable. Historically, our species’ treatment of the fairer (and probably smarter) sex has often been reprehensible, and the instinct to hold onto gains made in gender equality is not without cause.  In addition, a plausible reaction to a thesis like mine is that “it’s just not helpful”.  That reaction might carry with it an undertone of benevolent censorship, quietly saying that it is better to leave the issue alone, in the hope that not talking about it will somehow improve everyone’s lives.

But when it becomes obvious that something is different – that, for example, women just aren’t as good at basketball – wouldn’t we all be more trusting of one another if we could talk about that fact? After all, as a people, we often proclaim that seeking “truth” should be one of society’s goals.  From my vantage point, the only way to achieve that goal is by talking about what’s real, as opposed to talking about A) what’s not real, or B) what we’d like to be real.

As an example of something real:  I would rather have a female doctor than a male one. I think women are better listeners, are more empathetic, and are better able to consider multiple issues at once. These are all skills I would like to have, but don’t – at least not to the level required for high level doctoring.

My lack – and what I perceive to be the male gender’s general lack – of these skills is regrettable, but it’s not something I’ll soon rail against. Instead, I’ll probably use it to my advantage, like a baseball manager selecting a pinch hitter. My belief is that female doctors are better. Thus, when everything else is equal, I’ll probably gravitate toward Dr. Lois instead of Dr. Luke.

A baseball manager makes the same sort of decision when it comes to pinch-hitting. He trusts his instinct that Johnson is better suited to the task of coming up with a ninth-inning hit than Beckett, and makes the decision to send Johnson to the plate.

That isn’t to say that Beckett wouldn’t have gotten a hit, or that Dr. Lois will necessarily cure me. There are, of course, male doctors who are better than the female doctors I would pick. But if I were forced to choose based only on sex, I’d choose the female one.

Keep in mind, the aforementioned example – how I pick a doctor, and the traits that make a good one – involves important characteristics. Basketball, and sport as a whole, is wildly unimportant, except that our society, in its current gladiatorial state, has decided that it is worth our time and money.

Which could take me to a larger point: Who really cares if women happen to be worse at basketball than men? So men are able to put a ball into a hoop in a way that is more pleasing to the eye than women. So what?

But I’ll save a discussion of the inexplicable importance of sport to our cultural landscape for another day.  For now, I’ll return to the issue at hand.

Instead of bemoaning the fact that less coverage is given to women, or shushing those who would talk about the real reasons why that is the case, perhaps it would behoove people to think about the issue from a different perspective. Instead of trying to level every skill, it might be better to concentrate the emphasis of the gender on things that gender’s members are good at.  Maybe, in the case of women’s basketball, the answer is to change the rules of the game.  Or maybe the answer is to create another sport and abandon basketball entirely.  As far as I know, there is no glass ceiling on innovation.

That’s not to say that women should give up on playing sports. Or that there’s anything wrong with watching women’s basketball.  Or that there’s anything wrong with preferring to watch women’s basketball.

But if women expect men to accept that women are better at certain activities (which is a reasonable request), they should be willing to admit when they’re worse at others, without characterizing anyone who points out such a fact as being heartless or limiting.

Here’s what’s interesting:  The result might be further respect from the population as a whole.  To my mind, no one is more respected than the person who can admit his or her faults and weaknesses.  Doing so is an indication of a level of self-assuredness to which we all aspire.

And, as a bonus, no one will feel obligated to endure Jeremy Schaap’s reports – reports that contain half-truths and evasion.  People might be able to say what they think, which – much more than equality in a ball game – should be our ultimate goal.

All of which will lead us to a day when a guy will be sitting on the couch next to his girlfriend when a women’s basketball game comes on.  He’ll say, “This is basically unwatchable.”  She’ll pause before responding, “That’s true, honey.  But I bet most of them could negotiate an arms treaty better than you could.”

Of course, to get there, we’ll have to work on emphasizing the importance of safety from atomic weapons over the ability to dribble a ball.  Which, if you read the preceding sentence again with your logic glasses on (atomic bombs >> basketballs), shouldn’t be a difficult task.

Unfortunately, we’re not there yet, as evidenced by those who did read that sentence again and thought, “What’s so important about not getting blown up?  The game’s on.”

While we wait, I hope we’ll consider allowing people to tell the truth, whether it’s about women’s basketball or the spinach in your date’s teeth.  It might hurt a little now, but we’ll all be better off in the long run.

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