Estancia Coach Has Bridged the Gaps

At first glance, it looks like all the other banners hanging on the walls of the Estancia High School gym--red background, gold trim, Eagle mascot in the middle. Another patch of school pride, sewn by success.

But it’s the inscription-- Beach Cities League, 1974 --that makes this banner significant. Not just for Estancia Coach Lillian Brabander, whose all-girl badminton team won it nearly two decades ago, but for the generation of high school girls who have played sports since.

The Beach Cities League, one of several all-girls’ leagues formed by women coaches around Southern California, lasted only a year--it dismantled when the Southern Section went co-ed in 1975--but its existence bridged the gap between girls’ sports of yesterday and today.

Without it, Brabander says, girls might still be playing for blue ribbons instead of college scholarships. Plain, old fun instead of big-time fame.

Brabander, 60, is retiring in June after 29 years as Estancia’s girls’ athletic director, 25 as badminton coach, and a lifetime as an advocate of girls’ sports. Getting involved in the formation of the Beach Cities League was only part of her calling.

Brabander grew up in St. Louis, where she and other girls at her high school competed in tennis, softball and basketball, but only against one other high school across town. Years later, as a teacher and coach, her volunteer work in the Girls Athletic Assn. became her passion.

Although some roll their eyes at the mention of GAA, Brabander defends it. Sure, it stressed participation over competition, smiles over skills; awarded Popsicles, ribbons and pins to its “play day” participants; featured sock hops, cabin retreats and chicken dinner banquets at Knott’s Berry Farm as its most popular highlights.

But the girls loved and appreciated it, Brabander says. Estancia had 350 girls in the program on average. Today, only 200 girls play on Eagle teams. In GAA days, Brabander organized about 35 teams for each sport. From Team 1 (the best) to Team 35 (usually the youngest and the least skilled) everyone played against equal competition.

Revenue from annual dues--50 cents per girl--and proceeds from a yearly car wash constituted the program’s entire budget. Girls would supply their own shorts and shirts; the school provided nylon Windbreakers. Coaches were paid $42 for each 10-week sport session.

Transportation to and from opposing schools meant telling the school custodian to warm up the bus. They were ready to go, and he was driving. Parental pressure didn’t exist. And specialization--the idea that you have to pick one sport in junior high and stick with it for life--had yet to be invented.

“Girls didn’t practice two hours a day like they do now,” Brabander says. “They didn’t play (one sport) year-round. The best athletes were all-around athletes. I think it made it more fun.”

But other opportunities were limited. A school newspaper story that mentioned GAA was a major publicity coup. Outside of the coaches, players and an occasional visit from the principal, there were no fans. College athletic scholarships for girls had not yet become routine.

When Title IX was signed into law in 1972, it signaled a serious turn for girls’ sports. At least it was supposed to. Restructuring--from fun to fair--was on the minds of many. But how to start?

“When Title IX came into being, there was a movement to start our own CIF,” Brabander says. “There was a meeting at Huntington Beach High School. All the ladies gathered together, jockeyed around and formed leagues. You know, ‘Oh, we want to be together!’ ‘OK.’ ‘All right, how about us?’ At that point, CIF was like, ‘Go ahead. Do it your way.’ ”

That was 1974. For the first time, girls were competing in structured leagues and in CIF playoffs. But the transition wasn’t easy. There weren’t enough officials. There weren’t enough coaches. There weren’t enough facilities. Some boys’ coaches--basketball in particular--refused to share their gymnasiums. Some girls’ coaches were so inexperienced they spent most of the games with a rule book in their hand.

But, Brabander says, most saw it as a big boost to the girls’ side of sports. At least they were finally getting some attention. “Bryant Gumbel came out and (did a broadcast report) on our gymnastics finals,” Brabander says. “Hey, that was a big deal!”

A year later, the CIF realigned the girls to be in the same leagues as the boys. A practical move, Brabander says. But not everyone was happy. Some saw realigning with the boys as a loss of freedom.

Today, girls’ sports are in a whole new world, of which Brabander is proud to have helped develop. A certain banner in the Estancia gym, she says, symbolizes the beginning of the era.

“The year we were in control of our destiny,” she says.

The year when the girls began to close the gap.