WNBA’s Mistie Bass Learns Lessons in Bahrain

By MISTIE BASS

I traveled to Bahrain, a small island country east of Saudi Arabia, to watch my fiancé, O’neal Mims III, finish his basketball season last fall. At his games, I was usually the only woman in the arena. Within 48 hours of my arrival, Muhammad al-Khalifah, a relative of the king, asked me to coach his Muharraq women’s basketball team.

Although I had not spent much time in Bahrain, I knew its culture was conservative, especially regarding women. In public, many wear long, dark robes and head scarves. I could not believe that they were allowed to play sports.

My curiosity piqued, I accepted my first coaching offer and returned to Bahrain in February. This was the first full season for the eight-team women’s league. I was humbled and honored to be a part of history.

My team had been together for 10 years or so, playing no more than four games a year. I had nine players, down from 11 the year before. Two had married and stopped playing. Although married women are not forbidden to play, they chose their responsibilities as wives over basketball.

Some of my players, who ranged in age from 19 to 27, were married with children. I also had a medical student and an airline pilot, among others. Despite their differences, and the fact that they were not paid to play, they relied on one another on and off the court. If someone had a problem, the entire team discussed it.

They were used to being coached by men who tended to discourage them. But I saw nothing but tremendous potential, and I tried to nourish it. I made it clear that I was invested in the team’s improvement, and the players made it clear that they were serious as well. We practiced two to four times a week, usually at night. The players picked me up, and we had time to talk during the drive.

One day, we worked on layups for nearly half of practice. I challenged each player to make 10 in a row; anyone who missed had to run sprints. With most of them wearing long-sleeve shirts, long pants and head coverings, they ran and ran and never complained or pointed fingers, no matter how tired or uncomfortable they might have been. They worked so hard and encouraged one another every step of the way. If I ever feel hesitant during a workout, that memory will push me.

Running sprints was nothing compared with the everyday obstacles these women faced. The team’s captain, Fatima Asidi, is an international bank representative. On the court, she was an inspiration. She also performed the team’s administrative duties.

Her toughest challenge was finding a place for us to practice. At the Muharraq athletic club, our team was last to get time in the gym, behind the men’s team and even men’s pickup games. Fatima did all she could, and she taught me what a captain and a leader really is.

During my time in Bahrain, I often felt like an outsider. I wore basketball shorts and a T-shirt in public, and men would frequently stare at me. That made me uncomfortable, and I realized why my players covered up. It was a way of preserving their way of life and preventing their being treated like sex objects.

One day, my players used their own money to rent a practice gym. When we entered, the players immediately locked the doors. Then they removed their head coverings. I was shocked. They had become comfortable with me, and I felt like one of them. These women went out of their way to put me at ease, if only for one practice. I will remember that feeling for the rest of my life.

The women’s willingness to work hard, their love for basketball and their ability to overcome adversity will also stay with me. Coaching them really drove home the point that if you give with no intent to receive, you will get so much more in return.

I had to leave in early April to rejoin the Chicago Sky and prepare for my fifth W.N.B.A. season. I left a manual of drills, plays and practice schedules for my players to follow, and we stayed in touch through Facebook. They did themselves proud, finishing the regular season undefeated and reaching the playoffs.

Every day in my final week, I felt I was losing something very special. We grew close on the court and even closer off it.

By sharing their thoughts on their culture and Islam, they destroyed my preconceptions about the Middle East.

Those nine women halfway across the world changed me forever and, I hope, helped me become a better person.