Despite Taunts, She’s Undaunted About Crossing These Borders

Ila Borders doesn’t want to be in a league of her own. It’s not what she’s about. She’s not looking to break barriers, or to be one of a kind. She doesn’t wish to be a symbol.

But sign a letter of intent with a collegiate baseball team--as Borders did with Southern California College--and suddenly you’re more than just another recruit. You’re big news, a front-page story, a female pitcher with a cause. You’re the Whittier Christian senior doing all you can to strike out sexism.

Or so goes the assumption. The reality is, Borders just wants to play baseball. Not just in high school. Not just in college. But beyond.

No one ever asks a boy why he wants to be a major league pitcher. It’s a given, an American dream. A cause for a pat on the back.

It makes no difference what his abilities are. He’s told to reach for the sky. Work hard. Never, ever give up.

But if a girl aims for the same?

Borders has gotten used to the ridicule. The taunting and teasing started in Little League and continued through junior high and high school. The hostilities rarely ebbed. Go back to your Barbie dolls. Stick with your tea party. Who the . . . do you think you are?

She has learned to ignore it. Considering some of the words thrown her way, she has little choice. Girlfriends and mothers of opposing players are the worst, she says. They’re the ones who’ve threatened her life, told her she’d better watch her back. Forced her to seek a kind and willing soul after the game to help her get to her car safely.

If anything, it has made her stronger. You can hear it in the tone of her convictions. “My major goal is to make it into the major leagues,” she says. Whether anyone else thinks this is possible doesn’t matter. There isn’t a trace of doubt in her voice. It’s much the same with her exercise routine.

Borders, who also plays on the girls’ basketball team at Whittier Christian, gets up at 6 a.m. to lift weights. She lifts again during lunch. And before practice. And after practice. And before bed (around midnight). And, with the help of her trusty alarm clock, once more around 3 a.m. Each session features light weights (10 pounds curls), high repetitions and lasts 15 to 45 minutes.

“Guys are naturally a lot stronger,” Borders, 17, says. “So I have to do what I can.”

There’s more. Borders runs 10 miles a day, including seven miles home from basketball practice. She makes up the extra miles on her treadmill at night. It’s in her bedroom, along with her weights. If she’s still feeling peppy, there’s a stair climbing machine in the hallway, a rowing machine in her bathroom and a mini trampoline in the back yard. And lest we forget, she also works as a janitor at her mother’s preschool every morning before school.

Phil Borders insists it’s his daughter, not him, who’s responsible for her ambitious schedule. Sure, he was surprised the first time he heard her working out at 3 a.m., but he just shrugged and went back to bed. She seems happy and well-adjusted, he says. Her grades, in the B+ range, haven’t dropped. Her health hasn’t suffered. She’s a good kid doing all she can to achieve a tremendous goal.

Certainly, some will label Borders a fanatic, a girl obsessed. But what if she were a boy? What would they call her then? (Try highly motivated, tenacious and focused beyond belief).

Borders doesn’t care. People have been saying negative things about her and her aspirations since she switched from softball to baseball eight years ago. They’ve faulted her fastball, questioned her curve. She can take it.

“I’ve always thought that if I’m not capable of putting up with criticism, I have no business being out there,” she says. Same goes for the occasional pain of the game. Borders has been hit so hard by the ball, the seams made impressions on her skin for days.

But other impressions last longer. Two years ago, a first baseman named Julie Croteau, recognized as the first woman to play NCAA varsity baseball, quit the team at St. Mary’s (Md.) College after her junior season. Croteau quit, she said, because of sexism. Among the incidents she cited: during a team bus ride, her teammates read out loud graphic excerpts from Penthouse magazine.

If this kind of thing worries Borders, she doesn’t show it. Her attitude seems part bubbly innocence (think Janet Evans, circa 1988 Olympics), part pit-bull intensity. She is sensitive, bright, and thankful for those who stuck by her. But moving to the college ranks, she knows, will mean a new set of challenges.

“I know I’m going to have to overcome a lot of skepticism,” Borders says. “But I’m not going about it in a cocky way. I know you can go out one time and get knocked on your butt. That keeps you in line.”

Even when you’re in your own league.

Barbie Ludovise’s column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Ludovise by writing her at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, 92626 or by calling (714) 966-5847.