Behind every 7-footer

To the outside world there are just two scenarios that sum up the life of the NBA wife:

The first, a bling-bling-subsidized fairy tale: Prince Charming zooms up in a jet-black Hummer; you’ve got floor seats at any game of your choosing, a PDA full of A-list friends and a showplace home opening to a breathtaking vista.

The other, the scandal-sheet nightmare: The five-deep entourages, packs of women haunting hotel lobbies and constant out-of-touch hang time courtesy of coast-to-coast travel.

The notion is, if you’re going to marry one of these fleet, high-profile alpha males, the whole world figures you married not just the man, but the lifestyle, and you knew exactly what you signed on for. But that’s just it, says NBA wife Deborah A. Williams, founder of Behind the Bench: The National Basketball Wives Assn.: You didn’t and you don’t.

For wives as much as players, the off-court life comes center stage this weekend. The NBA’s biggest reason to party heats up in the original “party over here” city -- All-Star weekend and all its attendant distractions before the actual game at Staples Center. The hours leading up to Sunday’s tipoff promise all manner of hedonistic one-upmanship -- parties thrown by rappers, actors, athletes and magnates. Add to it a full slate of concerts, mixers, not to mention private, off-the-roster fun -- all of it with the Kobe Bryant case still hovering in the not-too-distant backspace.

While Bryant’s high-profile case certainly touched an all-too-familiar nerve, many veteran NBA wives know that the life comes with plenty of lesser-known stressors -- unique and persistent -- but soul wearing nonetheless. So numerous that many women are simply blindsided by them.

Williams, married to Herb Williams, a New York Knick assistant coach who played 18 seasons in the NBA, found herself navigating the surreal world of an NBA wife without a coach or rulebook. There were the obvious issues: the ubiquitous women, the rigors of a season’s schedule, those were givens. But what she hadn’t prepared for were the hidden pressures that an unconventional, high-profile life presented -- and consequently the dearth of understanding and support.

“It’s just a different lifestyle,” says Williams, “very transient. There’s just a lot of uncertainty.

“When we were young, and we first got traded, he never came home,” recalls Williams, laughing. “He was off with the team. It was up to me to get the house packed, the car moved, and then you have to find your way around a new city. I thought it would be a nice thing to have a support network with women in a lot of different cities, an entity and organization where people automatically understood your lifestyle, where you didn’t have to explain.”

But cutting through the perceptions was tough. Even women on the inside harbor their own hard-to-shake misconceptions about the sort of vibe an NBA women’s group might exude. “I had this idea that it would be a bunch of women sitting around looking at each other talking about shopping,” admits Gina Coleman, wife of Derrick Coleman of the Philadelphia 76ers. “But when I got [to the first meeting] not one person mentioned who they were married to. They talked about what they were doing. Their job, the business they ran. I was just so impressed. They had so much going on other than being a parent and a wife.”

But there is so much that catches you unaware, especially when you’re younger, says Carlette Patterson, who works with the organization. Indeed, the players are getting younger as the NBA increasingly drafts athletes out of high school or who spent only a year or two in college. “Not to take anything of the good stuff away from the kids, but if you’re not careful you end up making some bad choices,” Patterson says.

“It breaks your heart when you hear [a story like Kobe’s]. I don’t know too many women who don’t wish for the fantasy. We think our life is going to be different. But [we’ve] heard much worse and we’re here to tell them: ‘Honey, you need to take the blinders off. This isn’t “Disney on Ice,” but it isn’t the end of our world either.’ The women and the men need help to get through it. The men have a coach. The women need a coach too.”

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Overshadowed

About 10 years ago, while attending the NBA’s annual national conference with her husband, Williams began to toss around the idea of a women’s organization. “I wanted to make educating ourselves a priority. In our lives, so much of the focus is on our husbands. Rightfully so. But I didn’t want to see us lost in the process.”

Williams put together a meeting with a dozen women who then went in to meet with the players’ organization -- and Behind the Bench (formerly Women of the National Basketball Players Assn.) -- was born. Now boasting nearly 100 members and including wives of active and retired players, Behind the Bench works to expand the public perception of what an NBA wife is and to help the wives get a better grasp on the women they share seats with courtside.

The major thrust of their work is philanthropy -- raising money for various charities, including the Breast Cancer Fund and the American Cancer Society. Tonight, as part of the All-Star week frenzy, the group will hold its annual “Touching a Life” gala to raise money for the Boys and Girls Clubs: Its headliner is Janet Jackson (chosen before her recent “wardrobe malfunction” at the Super Bowl.)

Alongside their community good works, the organization, known among the membership as “The Sisterhood,” also provides a shoulder to lean on, placing an emphasis on building a community and support network similar to what their husbands get on and off the court.

It’s overwhelming, says Shirley Seals, the Behind the Bench president and wife of Bruce Seals, who played for the Seattle SuperSonics during the ‘70s. “You look at some of the current wives and you see it in their eyes, in the expressions on their face. Everything is about him. You want to go to work, you want to get and use your degree,” says Seals. “I know. I thought the sun rose and set on my husband. And sometimes you don’t want to make waves, either, but you want to make sure that you don’t get lost.”

That would mean corralling assistance. “We bring in psychologists and marital therapists, finance people to speak at our annual national conference,” Williams says. “There are so many young people coming into the league and we really want to be able to put together the newer wives with the veteran wives, who have been there, done that four or five times. They’re the ones who can tell you what you need to do to get through it.”

Coleman had built a career in sports herself by working herself up the ladder of the New Jersey Nets’ organization -- from ticket sales to the corporate offices. She first heard about Behind the Bench when she was engaged to be married, but it wasn’t until her husband was traded and moved to Philadelphia that things began to change around her. “I found that no matter how many close friends that you have people just don’t understand. ‘What do you have to complain about?’ People suddenly think you have all this money to give away. Or that suddenly I’m interested in buying a $500 blouse. I have no interest in that. My husband is making this money. What I’m doing I’m doing for myself.”

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Hoping to expand

Coleman, who works on public relations for Behind the Bench, is trying to bring more women into the fold. Building city-to-city networks that help raise money for charities will raise the organization’s profile on the local level and that interaction, she believes, will spread the word about the worth of the organization and get the women addressing their own challenges.

“If you’re lucky, your husband plays past 10 years,” says Coleman. “But really for most it’s four. They’re retiring in their 30s. Not everyone is Michael Jordan and can come back when they please. We’ve got to plan ahead. Manage the money to last a lifetime.”

It’s a very real concern, even with the huge salaries paid players. After all, the NBA life is short. “I’m always getting us to look at the financial,” says Seals, who is also the controller at Harvard University. “To get speakers to talk to us about wills and trusts. Get them financially set. I let the others deal with the other part, the fluffy stuff.”

That would be matters of the heart -- and the Sisterhood is there to bolster that too. “We recognize that it is a blessing, that our husband has this high-profile career, but that is only part of it,” says Eve Allen, a doctor of alternative and complementary medicine and wife of former Laker Lucius Allen, who played in the ‘70s. “You have to be very confident in who you are and in the relationship. Sure there are temptations and they’re all grabbing. You have to tell yourself, ‘I have a wonderful husband, a wonderful man,’ but you have to keep having conversations, building your trust.

“You have to be confident. Because the moment you get shaky and start tripping is the moment that everything can fall apart,” she says. “There is always going to be someone younger, more beautiful, with a tighter body. So, it’s important that you have to know who you are and that’s what keeps you strong and anchored.”

That certainly doesn’t come overnight, and it certainly doesn’t come without support, says Patterson, former chief executive for Global Children’s Network and now a life coach who counsels professional athletes transitioning into new careers. “I’ve learned that it is important that the family system stays strong. He’s in a completely different world than you are. He gets traded and it’s, ‘Honey, see you after the season!’ You’re left with the kids, living like a single parent. It’s important to connect him, but not choke him.”

You have to be smart about your game plan, everyone agrees. “You can’t afford to just be an accessory,” says Williams, “I tell women you have to look at yourself as a CEO in a multimillion-dollar franchise. It’s all about how we handle our partners, our investments. The answer is not a $2,000 Gucci bag. We are really starting to rethink the role. Most people don’t know that we are here.

“It’s time,” Williams says, “for them to know we’re more than the people who hold all the sneakers in the tunnel.”