THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, February 27, 1995 TAG: 9502270144
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Bob Molinaro
LENGTH: Medium: 70 lines
Only 1,160 people were on hand in the Old Dominion field house to wake up the echoes for Marianne Stanley and her 1985 national championship team.
Not a big crowd, by any means, but the joyful noise it created Sunday must have served as something of a lift for Stanley.
It's been a long time since a large cheer went up in her name. These days, the sound of which she is most aware is the deafening silence of phone calls unreturned.
``I've applied for a lot of jobs,'' she said Sunday. ``I started out applying for Division I jobs, then I applied for Division II and III jobs.''
She shrugged under her tailored jacket. ``I've applied for 20-odd jobs,'' she said, ``and I've gotten two phone calls back. And they weren't job offers.''
In her 10 seasons at ODU, Stanley was feared as a coach for all the normal reasons associated with a success. She recruited talented players and taught them to win.
In the process, she forced people unfamiliar with the age of gender equity to come to grips with the notion of a feisty woman who was every bit as ambitious and aggressive as some of the men who coach basketball.
It was not always the smoothest of relationships. For Stanley, or the world.
In the '70s, Stanley was too young to be so sure of herself, but in her best and worst moments, she was never anything less than a pioneer.
Today, she remains a pioneer. Only now, the trail she blazes leads through courtrooms. It's a trail that could run toward oblivion for a woman who wants to coach basketball again.
Since filing an $8 million lawsuit against her last employer, the University of Southern California, Stanley is feared in a much more corrosive way.
Corporate America, which includes college athletics, doesn't warm to people who fight the status quo.
This explains why the phone doesn't ring for Stanley.
After coaching for four years at Southern Cal, and turning the program into a winner, Stanley asked to be paid as much as George Raveling, who was then the men's basketball coach.
She says she took the job with the understanding that this is what she could expect.
Southern Cal argues that it only agreed to pay her about what Raveling earned after he had been at the school four years.
The sex-discrimination suit was filed in 1993. A pretrial hearing comes up on March 6 in Los Angeles Federal Court. The trial is scheduled for the 14th.
``One of the things I'm required by the court to do,'' Stanley said, ``is to try to get a job.
``But even Division II and III schools won't hire me.''
If Stanley is poorer without basketball, the reverse also is true. It doesn't matter, though. At least not for now.
She is too hot to touch.
``I can't explain any other reason why somebody with the credentials I have in basketball is not even getting interviews,'' she said.
Even if she wins the suit, she may never get back what she really wants - a job in coaching. You wonder if those who advised her on this equal-pay-for-equal-work crusade have served her best interests.
Asked about the importance of coaching in her life, Stanley said, ``It's where I belong.''
Once, she belonged at ODU. And for a few minutes Sunday, away from the phones that never ring, she did again. by CNB