Gina Satriano was the first girl to play Little League in California. Now, at 28, she’s a pioneer all over again. A deputy district attorney in Compton, Calif., she took a leave-and gave up her first murder case-to pitch for the Colorado Silver Bullets, the first women’s professional baseball team to compete only against men. “My gut took only half a minute to decide,” she says. “I can be a lawyer for the rest of my life, but I can’t do baseball forever.” As an affiliate member of the independent Northern League, the team-operated by Whittle Sports Properties, a division of Whittle Communications, and sponsored by Coors Brewing Co.-will play about 50 exhibition games against minor-league, semi-pro and over-30 teams. Interest is so high that ESPN2 will telecast opening day, against the Northern League All Stars, next Sunday.
“A League of Their Own,” the 1992 movie about the women-only league of the ’40s and early ’50s, probably helped get the new team off the ground, but Whittle president Bob Hope, a former Atlanta Braves executive, had floated the idea much earlier. In 1984, Hope tried to organize a women’s minor-league team but couldn’t fight his way to a franchise. When Coors approached Whittle about creating something mainstream but offbeat, something that might, says Hope, “change the way people think,” presto-women’s baseball. Coors, which has sponsored a variety of women’s sporting events, agreed to put up $2.6 million. Last December, the team won official recognition from professional baseball. In April, after a series of tryouts (1,300 women showed up), the 24-player roster was set.
Can women really compete on the diamond against bigger, stronger, faster men? The evidence isn’t in, but signs are they can. One look at the Silver Bullets-especially their sharp, fluid defense-and it’s clear this is no sideshow. Charlotte Wiley hits a Class A line drive, for instance, and Lisa Martinez’s knuckle hall flutters just like any pro’s. These women don’t throw like the proverbial girl, although none of the pitchers has a 90-mph fast ball. “Neither does Greg Maddux,” says Hope, referring to the best pitcher in the National League.
There are plenty of doubters, and some boors will no doubt turn up at games. But listen to the wisdom of this Hall of Famer: “Baseball is not a game of strength,” Hank Aaron once said. “The game needs a special kind of talent, thinking and timing. Some women, as well as some men, qualify.” There is, concluded the man who hit 755 homers, “no logical reason” women shouldn’t be playing baseball.
Cynics may call the Silver Bullets a marketing gimmick. But gimmickry alone can’t explain the impressive coaching and front-office lineup. Phil Niekro, who won 318 major-league games, has signed on as manager; his brother Joe, who had 221 victories in the bigs, is the pitching coach. (Inevitably, the team has been tagged The Niekro Leagues.) Shereen Samonds left her job as general manager of the Chicago Cubs’ AA Orlando team to fill the Silver Bullets’ GM slot. “Once I met Phil, and knowing we were making history, I couldn’t resist.”
No one expects the team to win a lot of games in the first season. Players and coaches agreed: just be competitive. “That’s the whole point. This opens doors for young women,” says Samonds. “We’ve already had major league teams call to say that they’ll send scouts.” Still, the rookie team is operating at considerable disadvantage. While men have been playing hardball for years, most women, lacking the opportunity, drop it when they hit their teens. “The toughest thing,” says Phil Niekro, “is to let the women realize they’re not going to be so good so quickly. We’re patient, but they’re not.” In two months, the Silver Bullets have had to play a frantic game of catch-up. “You have to look at this as a first-year program,” says Julie Croteau, 23, who sued (unsuccessfully) to play first base for her high-school varsity team. Shae Sloan, 22, shortstop and pitcher, isn’t ready to accept shutouts. “I’m so competitive, I want to get at least one run on the board. The first year, we’ve got to prove something.”
There’s not much anyone can throw at these women-from catcalls to brushback pitches-that they haven’t already tossed off. Some male minor leaguers complain, not unreasonably, about the Silver Bullets’ salaries. The women earn $4,000 a month-roughly three times more than the men. After one preseason game, the Memphis Chicks (a Kansas City Royals AA team), who edged out the Silver Bullets but got only three hits, asked the losers for autographs. “This is not a gender crisis,” says infielder Michele McAnany, 30. “It’s just one great ballplayer playing another great ballplayer.” Most are stunned that they’re on the field. “It’s weird being on this end,” says Charlotte Wiley, 25, an unusual combination of pitcher and designated hitter. “I was the fan, now I’m the player.” But if the pressure is on, so is the fun. “We have 24 comedians on this team,” Sloan says. “We need to laugh,” says Croteau. (There were a few chuckles last month after the team cut one Geri Fritz from the squad. Fritz seemed a bit old for the game but, more important, was waiting for a sex-change operation.)
The pro athlete’s canned comment-“I only care about helping the team”-has a tinny ring. But when a Silver Bullet like Sloan says, “I’m playing for women back then and women of the future and I’m playing for us,” it’s hard not to believe it. At spring training, kids flocked to see them. “That picture, kids hanging over the fence-was so exhilarating, so much bigger than any of us,” says Satriano. “One person said, ‘You have no idea what an inspiration you are.’ There were girls shouting, ‘Women are the best!’ It’s great to hear them with that sense of power. We never had that.” But the most intense fans aren’t necessarily children. After a game “when we’d just got our butts whipped,” says McAnany, “everyone said, ‘I wish I could be in your shoes.’ There were two old women in the stands who were actually crying. I never understood bow much it meant to other people.” And that, any Silver Bullet will agree, is the sweetest victory.
..MR.-
SILVER BULLETS
Minor-league, semi-pro and over-30 men’s teams
Beginning May 8 in Charlotte, N.C., against the Northern League All-Stars (telecast live on ESPN2) and closing Aug. 26 in Seattle, against the Seattle Mariners Semi-Pro
Among others: Nashville, Denver, Scranton, Pa., and Thunder Bay, Canada
$20,000 for the season-three times more than many male minor-leaguers
title: “A Whole New Ball Game” ShowToc: true date: “2022-12-26” author: “Alice Ramirez”
With each kicker I grew more confident. Back in March, the goalkeeper had psyched me out; as I walked up to take the kick, she smiled and winked. So as I walked up to the ball this time, I kept saying to myself, “Don’t look at her, don’t look at her.” From the moment I got the ball from the referee, I never once looked up at the goalkeeper. It is the most incredible feeling how alone and quiet you can feel in front of 90,000-plus people. I think they all took a collective inhale, waiting to see what happened. I felt like I was the only one there. It happened so fast but in slow motion. When I hit the ball it was all slow. By the time I could lift my head up the ball was hitting the net. Then it hit me: We just won the World Cup! It’s the most glorious, the most beautiful, the most intense feeling you could imagine. I let out this scream of relief and satisfaction and pride.
This has been the craziest time of my life–everywhere we go, people constantly coming up and talking about the World Cup. Recently I was doing a sponsor appearance and working with a big executive from Sweden. We’re walking into a hotel in Orlando–I’m in street clothes–and he’s talking about how the ‘95 Women’s World Cup, held in Sweden, didn’t have much impact. I’m telling him he should have seen the stadiums this summer and how we can barely go anywhere anymore. As the words come out of my mouth, this guy yells down from a railing three floors up in the hotel: “Hey Brandi, what’s up with the shirt?” How random is that? I waved. Then I just looked at this guy from Sweden who couldn’t fathom, until that moment, women’s soccer making that much of an impact. And I smiled.
We’ve had so many moms and kids coming up to us saying, “You’ve changed my life and changed the face of women’s athletics.” They say, “You’ve really changed history.” People ask, “What type of legacy are you leaving?” I don’t believe I can answer that now. I think five or 10 years down the road, we’ll know. But I think the greatest impact we’ll have is when boys see women athletes and don’t think twice about them, just “Of course girls play sports.”
