When Brittney Griner took to the stage in Phoenix last week for her first official presser since her return to the United States in December, having spent nearly 10-months detained in Russia for drug allegations the U.S. State Department deemed “wrongful,” it was clear it was not going to be any ordinary media event. Griner, who wore a black shirt that represented her new partnership with the advocacy group “Bring Our Families Home,” laughed when she saw the number of reporters assembled.
“Ooo,” she said. “A little different than basketball press conferences -- a lot of media in here today.”
She thanked those who kept her plight in the headlines, but also reminded everyone that her story now continues on the court. She urged reporters who showed up to her press conference to also show up for the WNBA’s 27th season, which opens May 19th.
Griner is, of course, a legend in the sport — a two-time Olympic gold medalist and seven-time All Star player who set a record in the gold-medal game in Tokyo in 2021 with 30 points, five rebounds and three blocks. At that presser, she used her star status, her spotlight, and the fact that her imprisonment, if not her play, solidified hers as a household name, to help shine a light on her sport, openly talking about why star players go abroad — the money — and hoping that perhaps the interest in her own story can evolve into more attention for the league.
She wants us, in short, to show up.
Fans certainly showed up to women’s March Madness this year, with stars like LSU’s Angel Reese and Iowa’s Caitlin Clark inspiring the kind of debate usually reserved for the men’s side. Reese challenged fans and media who criticized her to “normalize women showing passion for the game instead of it being ‘embarrassing.’” Indeed, the reaction to Reese’s so-called mocking of Clark in the last few seconds of the title game, with racialized vitriol that deemed her “classless” and her behavior “unsportsmanlike,” demonstrated, importantly, the ways in which the policing of women’s athletic passion is simply not equal. But these conversations, these discussions, these disagreements could not have taken place if record-breaking millions of people had not tuned in to watch.
Fans — some brand new to women’s basketball — showed up.
Showing up, of course, is not always simple: we are busy, there is a whole menu of distractions to pull us in different directions, and responsibilities pile up on an hourly basis. But as someone who tries to show up not just for friends and family but also for the students I teach and advise at Manhattanville College, I can promise this: the act of showing up never lets me down.
This proved true last Friday when I attended the annual award ceremony for Manhattanville’s athletes. While I was thrilled to be there and enjoy a good meal among the coaches, trainers, and staff who make our piece of real estate in Division III sports a wonderful space, I was surprised — and should not have been — to have walked away having learned something from a student. Indeed, I learn things from students every single day — the classroom, my office, the Adirondack chairs on the quad, the bleachers — all are spaces where exchanges with students are fruitful. Sometimes I teach. Sometimes I learn.
One of the students honored at the awards dinner was Gabbie Cox, women’s hockey, female athlete of the year. As a rabid fan of our women’s hockey team (and let’s be clear: anything that comes out of my mouth during one of their games is my opinion and not representative of my employer), I was not surprised that she got the nod: Gabbie, a sport studies major, led the team this year with 39 points, 31 goals, and 8 assists. She was UCHC Player of the Week four times this season, and finished the year as the conference’s leader in goals, goals per game, power play goals, short-handed goals, and hat tricks. Want more? She led the nation — that’s right, the whole country — in shorties.
In her acceptance speech, Gabbie, like most other athletes that night, thanked the usual suspects: her fellow nominees, her teammates, her family, her coaches, and her trainers. But then she went into a space no one else had: she accepted the award, she said, and I quote, “on behalf of all female athletes who are working tirelessly, breaking down barriers, and proving that women deserve a place in sports.”
“Let us continue to inspire and empower each other and pave the way for future generations…”
That right there, I thought, is a definition of showing up. That’s using a spotlight moment to say something — to urge change and, even better, make change on whatever stage you’re given, in whatever space you’ve got, whether you’re Brittney Griner or Gabbie Cox or, of course, a player to be named later.
Amy Bass is professor of sport studies and chair of the division of social science and communication at Manhattanville College. Bass is the author of ONE GOAL: A COACH, A TEAM, AND THE GAME THAT BROUGHT A DIVDED TOWN TOGETHER, among other titles. In 2012, she won an Emmy for her work with NBC Olympic Sports on the London Olympic Games.
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