WPS – Why I Love The Women's Game

Closed-minded pundits point to one simple moment, one single article of clothing, to represent the rise of the Women’s game in the US: the Chastain Sports Bra. This moment encapsulates the twisted history of women’s sports – the double standards and the fleeting big media attention. In a word, I hate and love this moment. As do many WPS fans.

To say the women’s game rose with the bra of Chastain overlooks a much more critical development decades earlier - Title IX. Title IX required all universities to equally fund male and female sports – a watershed moment for enthusiastic girl deportistas. Just as intended, universities across the nation fretted over the same dilemma – how would to keep their alumni-blood-sucking football and basketball programs, while spending comparable funds on females sports? Soccer, the sport of the collective 60′s parent hippie, with widespread youth participation even in those dark ages, was the shining white knight.

Thus, at the collegiate level, scholarships and programs popped up from East Coast to West Coast. The U.S. middle class obsession with a collegiate education, and  newly available scholarships, presented a tempting carrot for many aspiring high school ladies. Rivalries developed, and the simple act of playing against one’s peers in a consistent and competitive environment spun a wave of super soccer athletes. And they were American.

The Chastain World Cup winning goal in 1999 was a monumental sporting achievement, mind you. The ability to deliver a clutch penalty kick, despite millions of eyes, millions of doubts, belies nerves of steel and impeccable technique. Of course, Brianna Scurry’s save, a rarity by a goalie at the highest level in penalty kicks, was deserving of equal accolades. But the media did not notice Scurry. Why? The sports bra. Brandi Chastain scored a monumental goal and behaved like any male soccer athlete – she took off her shirt. But because she was a female, she attracted a prurient interest. The male gaze, with the maturity of a seventeen year old, latched onto the image of bare skin.

Since that time, both boys and girls have been banned from taking off their shirts in celebration. A yellow card awaits those who would dare display their chest. But such androgynous rules cannot mask the largest difference between the current female and male US national team. Success aside, it’s the style of play. Simply put, the girls share and keep the ball better. On a good day, the US men’s team can counterattack against the top teams in the world, which is a major stepping stone. But the girls….there’s something about these girls. Pretty? Patient? Possessive? Controlling? All of the above – but you can’t keep your eyes off them. For all the right reasons.

The intricate build-up play, the triangles painted on the pitch, the quick first touch passing – excuse my hyperbole, but I could easily confuse the ladies with the boys from across the pond that ply their trade on the continent. The US Women’s National team builds from the back and the offense runs steadily on a diet of team – simmering to a glorious boil. And, of course, in the era of globalization, all good concepts get exported in the blink of an eye. At the last Women’s World Cup, the media latched onto a precociously talented Brazilian with the swagger to match: Marta. And, for our viewing pleasure, she plays in the WPS.

As the WPS enters it’s second season, I plan on attending a few matches. In South Texas, there’s no local team, but I’ll catch some games online. I don’t expect to see any groundbreaking moments, but rather a few more big steps in the steady march of progress. And I won’t cross my fingers in anticipation of penalty kicks and sports bras. No, I’ll be looking for style. And it will be on display.

For an interesting examination of sexuality, femininity, and soccer, check out Fake Sigi on “the fans.” For female written footy blogs, get your fix at Futoblita or Kickette.

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