It was not as if the Los
Angeles Sparks, or, at least, their parent company,
the Los Angeles Lakers, needed the publicity. This is
the club of Shaq and Kobe; the defending National
Basketball Association champions. Two years ago, the
owner's daughter, now the club's executive
vice-president, posed without her clothes for an
article in Sports Illustrated, with just two
strategically placed basketballs to cover her
bounteous charms.
The Sparks are the Lakers'
distaff side, as the Women's National Basketball
Association, formed in 1997, is to the NBA.
The WNBA likes to market
itself as the affordable, family-friendly version of
the expensive, designer NBA. But a look around the
crowds at the WNBA games reveals something else that
has rarely, if ever, been acknowledged.
The teams were developing a
devoted following among gay women. For a fledgling
sports league with a precious national broadcasting
contract, with all those loaded but ultra-sensitive
advertisers, this was the demographic that dare not
speak its name.
Until now. Last week, the
Sparks found themselves at an autograph session with a
difference. The WNBA regards its players as
missionaries for their league. Apart from playin' hard
and livin' right, their obligations include frequent
appearances at shopping malls, where potential fans
gather, to sign autographs and press the flesh.
The Sparks were at Girl Bar,
the West Hollywood focal point of a gay women's social
club 12,000-strong, to consummate a commercial
relationship conceived by the club's general manager,
Penny Toler, earlier this year. It is the first
partnership in the United States between a mainstream
sports body and a gay community group.
In their four-year history,
the Sparks have yet to progress beyond the second
round of the playoffs, while attracting an average of
6800 fans to their home games at the Forum, the former
home of the Lakers. In 2000, the team boasted 1000
season ticket-holders. At all of those games, this
minority constituency was there.
The WNBA has outlasted the
American Basketball League, which folded in late 1998,
in the midst of its third season. At that time, an ABL
executive noted that the struggling league's four
top-drawing teams were all located in cities with
hate-crime laws. "That means those markets are
progressive and receptive to a sport that obviously
draws a relatively huge proportion of its fans from a
marginalised population."
The executive, from a team
called the Denver Xplosion, continued: "We're
definitely drawing from gay crowds. That's one of our
niches that does help us."
Which was also the argument
of Penny Toler. "This isn't about marketing to
sexual lifestyles," she said in an interview in
the Los Angeles Times. "It's about marketing to a
group of people we think will buy tickets."
Times columnist T.J. Simers,
bereft of ideas for his Sunday piece, picked up on
that story. Simers was once an accomplished NFL
reporter who has since been transformed into the
Times' resident curmudgeon, thin-skinned and petty.
There is a segment of the
American population that will react to the word
"lesbian" as a vampire will to a crucifix.
Simers knew his market, and
cast these pearls to it: "I still wonder how
those overhead scoreboard shots in Staples Centre (the
Sparks' new home venue) when the camera pressures
couples in the crowd to kiss each other, are going to
go over, but I'm sure it won't be the first time these
people have seen a man kissing a woman."
The Sparks, good corporate
and community citizens, turned the other cheek.