Balancing Act

Cynthia Cooper lives in an upscale suburb of Houston, in a large, two-story house full of beautiful Italian furniture and children. Lots of children.

Sometimes when she is talking, her infant twins are crying and one of her three nephews, whom she has raised and considers sons, needs help with his homework or needs to be taken to or picked up from the tutor and, meanwhile, her husband, Brian Dyke, has made dinner and there are dishes to do.

Track star Marion Jones will soon understand much of this predictably unpredictable lifestyle.

Jones recently announced her pregnancy and in July expects to join a large group of female professional athletes who have annexed the demands of motherhood. She plans to spend as much time with the baby as possible before she starts training for the 2004 Summer Olympics.

After that, the juggling act intensifies. And no one knows it better than Cooper, arguably the best women’s basketball player of her era and later coach of the WNBA’s Phoenix Mercury.

Although she no longer coaches, and only plays basketball in her driveway, Cooper still makes speaking appearances, is working on a line of children’s books and was co-chair of a commission appointed by President Bush to study Title IX. She still calls the shots, but from the kitchen ... and the living room and the nursery and the car and the supermarket, where she is recognized about every other aisle.

Interviews, previously scheduled around practices, are fit between feedings. With the twins and her nephews, she has a new team of five and a co-coach, her husband and agent, who often walks around the house with a cell phone on one shoulder and a burp rag on the other.

“Basketball is where I have come from and where I’ve gone and is responsible for so much of my life,” said Cooper, who won two national championships at USC and four consecutive WNBA most-valuable-player awards and league titles with the Houston Comets. “But my kids and my mom, that’s who defines me -- by how well I do my job as a mother, how well I did my job as a daughter, and how well I do my job as a wife.”

Many athletes-mothers seem to share a common approach: They give their all to the game, but keep in mind that the game isn’t all there is.

Said Annett Davis, a professional beach volleyball player with a toddler son: “If I have a bad game, I look to the sideline and there’s my little boy, and I pick him up after the match is over and hang out with him before I go to the next one. When I’m competing, it’s the same, I’m pushing myself and want to win. But if we don’t, it’s not the end of the world.”

Michael Messner, professor of sociology and gender studies at USC, said athletes-mothers carry a little extra pressure because their femininity has been questioned.

“There is a cultural tension there,” said Messner, author of, “Taking the Field: Women, Men and Sports.”

“Women have internalized that it is their responsibility to care for children, and it’s put on them as well. I tell my students to go into a Laker locker room after a championship game and ask one of the star players, ‘How do you do it? You are such a successful basketball player and a father too!’ Men never get asked this, but women get asked this all the time, in all professions.”

The physiology of motherhood is another challenge. In a sport such as golf, an athlete can compete well into her pregnancy. But in another sport, volleyball for example, that would be a risk.

Davis and playing partner Jenny Johnson Jordan did not compete on the 2001 Assn. of Volleyball Professionals (AVP) tour because both were pregnant.

With no guaranteed salary, that meant no income and no qualifying points to start the next season.

Jordan’s and Davis’ parents -- Jordan’s father is Rafer Johnson -- now help take care of their grandchildren, which, the mothers say, is the best kind of support system. All, however, do not have that kind of support.

“It’s hard and stressful and a day-to-day process,” said Jackie Moore of the WNBA’s Indiana Fever, a single mom with a 4-year-old daughter. “Repeatedly, there have been trips where I’ll be leaving that day and I still don’t know what I’m doing with my daughter. Sometimes, it’s 10 minutes before and I’ll buy a ticket for $300 and take her with me. One thing, the players on the team help each other a lot.”

Sports organizations vary in what benefits, if any, they provide for mothers.

The AVP provides no insurance, child-care benefits or maternity provisions. Among the top 10 women’s teams, there are six mothers.

In the WNBA, 25 of the 200 players are mothers, and about half of them are single. The league offers a comprehensive maternity package that pays half-salary, provides for no set time to return, and year-round health benefits. The league also pays for an apartment and car. But there is no provision for day care or nannies. The WNBA season lasts about four months, but for some players, their salary has to last beyond the season. Top players, such as Lisa Leslie, make $200,000-$300,000, but most earn far less. The minimum salary for a veteran player last season was $40,000 and first-round picks earned $50,000 to $57,500.

The LPGA has about 25 moms and 39 children on tour and is a leader in child care. It’s traveling day-care center, for which golfers pay a nominal fee, is set up the same way in every city and, until February, had the same director, Tony Verive, for 10 years. Verive, who left because he was weary of the travel, said that the LPGA immediately brought in another day-care organization to coordinate the program.

U.S. Soccer and the Women’s United Soccer Assn., the professional league, provide extensive child-care services.

“U.S. Soccer will fly the kids with me, give me a room and pay for a nanny to come along,” said Joy Fawcett, a mother of three. “The Spirit [her San Diego professional team] will pay for a nanny for any time I’m practicing, and the team that we go to play will pay for the nanny for games and for practices. When we formed the pro league, players got together and decided that was what we wanted.”

In the most scrutinized case of an athlete juggling motherhood and a professional career, Pamela McGee, who was then with the Sparks, and her ex-husband, Kevin Stafford, waged a child-custody battle in 1998. Stafford claimed McGee’s WNBA career interfered with her care of daughter Imani, then 3. Stafford’s argument sparked controversy and he later rescinded his claim, but he did win sole permanent custody with joint visitation, a decision that was said to have had nothing to do with McGee’s career. The court, which took nearly a year to sort out the issues, found both parties fit for parenting. But Imani had already been living with her father for months and the court ruled she had established a home there.

Cooper resigned as coach of the Mercury last June, shortly after her twins were delivered by a surrogate mother. She said at the time she thought it was best for the team and her family, though when pressed she said the move “wasn’t my initiative.”

What exactly happened isn’t clear, but Cooper said, “I would have been devastated if I didn’t have the kids.”

Cooper had prepared for the births by establishing two nurseries, one in Houston and the other in Phoenix.

Her husband was going to travel with her and care for the babies, Brian Jr. and Cyan, and another helper was set to care for nephews Tyrone, 17; Anthony, 10, and Tyquon, 8.

Cooper said she would like to coach basketball again, perhaps even soon, maybe at the college level. Juggling career and family is something she learned from her mother.

“She raised eight kids by herself and she worked and she helped everybody all the time,” Cooper recalled. “When I was young, she didn’t necessarily give us the love that you see in the movies, just because she worked 24 hours a day to provide, well, to provide a pair of jeans. She wasn’t always sweet, but now that I’m an adult, I know why.

“Good Lord, she was tired.”