A grass-roots campaign

US women prepare for baseball World Cup

By Adam Kilgore, Globe Correspondent | June 11, 2004

LYNN -- The old woman perched in the press box sees something. She sees dozens of women playing baseball -- not softball, mind you -- replete with infield chatter, brushbacks, and headfirst slides.

But she sees something more, something she can't quite place. It's the same thing Dolly Brumsfield saw some 55 years ago, when she played women's baseball for the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. Back then, women were encouraged to play by Franklin Roosevelt, to act as a diversion to World War II.

Last weekend at Fraser Field, that urgency was lacking, but the spirit was there in teachers, police officers, students, mothers, and daughters, all gathered to seize a groundbreaking opportunity in their sport.

For the first time, USA Baseball will sponsor an official women's baseball team, for which tryouts were held at Fraser. The squad, which will play in the Women's World Cup in Edmonton starting July 30, will call Lynn home thanks to the backing of Nick Lopardo, who owns the North Shore Spirit and has poured more than $4.5 million into Fraser.

Those involved hope the World Cup will raise the profile of women's baseball in America the way the Women's World Cup did for women's soccer and the 1998 Nagano Olympics did for women's hockey.

For this year, don't expect a baseball player -- having just scored the winning run, jersey in hand -- to grace the cover of magazines in a sports bra. A total of 120-150 players tried out for the team in Chicago, West Point, N.Y., Fort Myers, Fla., and San Jose, and the announcement of the inaugural Team USA made little noise outside of Lynn. Unlike soccer and hockey, women's baseball won't have five rings standing behind it.

"[The Olympics] are so far off, we really shouldn't even be discussing it," said Paul Seiler, executive director of USA Baseball. "When you look at the numbers in terms of participants, we've got a long way to go."

Then again, the women at Fraser Field aren't playing for fame, anyway. They have played in leagues -- some in men's league, some in women's -- for years, keeping their dream breathing without earning a dime. Most pay their own expenses for travel and equipment. They've faced faulty equipment, ragged playing fields, and being booted off diamonds by Little League practice.

"They're playing for the love of the game," said Brumsfield, who, with the rest of the AAGPBL, became the basis for the movie "A League of Their Own."

"That's why we played back then."

Keri Lemasters knows that, all 5 feet 3 inches of her. She was a police officer in Raleigh, N.C., before she heard about the New England Women's Professional Baseball League Lopardo created in Lynn last year. Lemasters, a former All-American softball shortstop at Michigan State, immediately moved to Nahant and found another police job at a nearby hospital just to join the baseball league.

The 17 others who made the final cut are making similar sacrifices, giving up their other lives for six weeks to prepare for Edmonton. Three women hail from California, one from Florida. It's worth it to them, because they might be a part of what could be the most seminal moment in their sport's history. The backing of USA Baseball legitimizes women's baseball like never before and gives it the organization it needs.

"Hopefully this allows or creates an opportunity for girls to continue playing baseball as opposed to being told, `It's time to start playing softball because you're 14 years old,' " Seiler said. "We're hoping that a national team can raise awareness, get some sponsors involved, where we can get some of that grass-roots movement going."

Interest abounds Julie Croteau has been part of a smaller grass-roots program for more than a decade. She played for the Silver Bullets, a barnstorming women's team from the mid-1990s. She now serves as an assistant coach for the national team.

"Women's baseball has lacked the consistency that USA Baseball and Nick Lopardo bring," Croteau said.

Last year, as Lopardo was putting the finishing touches on bringing pro baseball back to Lynn with the Spirit, three women approached him in his office and said they played baseball, too.

"Our league is about to fold," they told him. "Can you help us?"

Lopardo offered a proposal: If they could find 60 interested women, enough for four teams, he would fund the league.

To his surprise, they did, and the New England Women's Professional League was born. Lopardo has since established another 25 teams in five cities.

Because of his trailblazing in women's baseball, Lopardo was a logical choice when the United States received an invitation to the World Cup. He agreed, making Fraser Field the de facto capital of women's baseball in the country.

His league took off, too. This season, 100 women tried out, and the schedule expanded from 12 to 15 games. That will increase his workload -- Lopardo doubles as the league's public address announcer.

Ken Perrone, who has coached baseball for 48 years -- the last 23 at Salem State College -- also coaches a team in the local league. When Lopardo went to him two years ago to gauge his interest in helping the new league, Perrone wavered. "To be honest with you, I didn't even know women's baseball existed," he said. Lopardo told him to come to Lynn and watch a Sunday night workout. Five minutes in, Perrone turned to Lopardo and told him, "I'll do it."

Players and administrators feel the public would undergo the same about-face if they could get over one mental hurdle: the notion that softball is a form of baseball for women.

"They're different sports," Croteau said. "They're both really good sports, and one's not better than the other. But ask any baseball player why they love baseball, and you'll get a different answer. It's like asking somebody why handball instead of squash. They evoke different passions."

In the 1990s, when Croteau played against minor league men's teams with the Silver Bullets, opposing players constantly asked her why she played baseball, not softball.

"Why do you want to play baseball and not softball?" came her reply. No further explanation was needed. They got it.

Turning heads Still, the perception remains cluttered by stereotypes. A baseball diamond is too big; women can't make the throws. Baseball pitchers throw overhand; too much strain on a woman's arm. Basepaths are 90 feet in baseball; too far for women.

And, of course, the most obvious stereotype.

"What happens is when you come down here and you watch, you're immediately very surprised," Lopardo said. "Because your immediate reaction is, `She throws like a girl.' "

The more exposure fans receive from women's baseball, the more those stereotypes will break down, Lopardo said.

"If you tell someone they throw like one of these girls, they'll say, `Thank you very much.' "

That's what the women who tried out wanted to say to Lopardo, who had granted them rare opportunities. Playing on a beautifully manicured field. A staff of quality, capable coaches. No competition for field time.

"What's impressive about these women is they all have stories when they were sent away," Croteau said. "Not this team, not this time, only boys. And they all kept playing. My dream is that the next generation will have all the same opportunity that the boys do."

And that next generation is out there. Lopardo said a pair of 13-year-olds who play in the local league would be good enough to play on the national team if not for the 17-year-old age limit. Perrone said he couldn't believe how many young girls are playing baseball.

Lopardo hopes a gold-medal performance in this year's World Cup starts a process that will create opportunities for girls to play baseball against other girls in Babe Ruth leagues, high school, and eventually in college for scholarships.

Maybe then, girls won't have to hear the same question so many women who were at Fraser Field have heard all their lives when they tell folks they play baseball: "You mean softball?"

Bridget Veenema, a national team member from Deerfield, Ill., who played with the Silver Bullets, has become so used to the question that she developed an answer forward enough to end the conversation.

"Yeah, baseball. You know, hardball. Like the Cubs play."

With that, Veenema ended the conversation with an onlooker and dashed into her dugout.

"I gotta go," she explained. "I'm in the hole."

Her team made the final out of the inning before she came to bat, but no matter. She trotted out to the infield, on a field full of players with red, white, and blue shirts. All the uniforms had the same message stitched across the back of the players' shoulders: "Women Play Baseball Too!"

"It's making 'em feel good," said Brumsfield. "The fact that now they're having an opportunity to play baseball, to have a league of their own, today."

So now it's clear what the old woman really sees. At Fraser Field, 50 years after she played her final ballgame, Dolly Brumsfield sees progress.