After nine days in San Antonio, Texas, I collected four different face masks. Grey, white, black and blue; all branded with slightly different versions of the NCAA Women’s Tournament logo.
Instead of t-shirts, foam fingers and NCAA memorabilia sold in the arena, people asked where I received the face masks, as if they were a rare collectible item that people sought after. I never thought that somebody would ask me that question, ever.
For me, the face masks symbolized a dream — covering my first NCAA women’s basketball tournament — and my role in the first-ever socially distanced NCAA Tournament “bubble.”
As I walked up to the Alamodome in the heart of downtown San Antonio, my temperature was taken, my bags checked and I entered through the media gate.
As tip off neared, in the back of my head I pictured thousands of basketball fans pouring through the Alamodome doors, sporting their team’s colors, chanting, cheering. I envisioned the electrifying atmosphere that typically encapsulates March Madness. Less than 3,000 people in total, many of them players’ family members, attended this year’s games.
In a normal year, college basketball fans enjoy watching games from different arenas across the nation to witness the grand spectacle. This season, all 64 teams were confined to one city and played in five different arenas, all in the greater San Antonio area.
Two weeks before thousands of players, coaches and staff flocked to San Antonio, Texas Gov. Gregg Abbott declared the state “open 100%” and issued an executive order to lift all business capacity restrictions and roll back the statewide mask mandate.
This was alarming news for the NCAA and anybody participating in the tournament, including myself. To be frank, I was quite nervous traveling to Texas due to the no-mask rule and the increasing rise of anti-Asian hate crimes occurring across the nation.
But this was my dream, and I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything take my experience away from me.
After Oregon’s season ended with a loss to Louisville in the Sweet 16, I reviewed my live tweets and game notes, and worked to finalize my pieces. It was radio silence all around me. After the teams cleared the floor, I was reminded that this tournament was unlike any other. The music stopped, the video board blacked out and the “Sweet 16” inscription on the court was immediately replaced by “Elite Eight.” No press box, no paper game notes and the empty media seats surrounding me reminded me of the many media members who covered this tournament virtually.
This experience, although vastly different from prior tournament years, afforded me opportunities I’d never receive during a normal NCAA Tournament.
There was a long, black curtain that separated the north and south courts in the Alamodome. After the Oregon-Louisville game, I couldn’t help hearing the 3,200 roaring fans on the other side of the curtain. Overlooking a sea of orange and red in the stands, I witnessed a historic upset between No. 6 Texas and No. 2 Maryland.
A whole other world, it seemed like, just on the other side of a curtain.
I witnessed great basketball being played by the best teams in the nation — from upsets to comeback victories — all in one place. For that, I am forever grateful. I witnessed a movement that was started by one viral TikTok, posted by Oregon’s Sedona Prince, that began a conversation of disparities between the women’s and men’s NCAA tournaments. I witnessed her exposure of the stark differences in weight room facilities turn into the NCAA later committing to real, sustained change within its institutionalized system.
“It’s amazing that now I have such a big platform and I’m able to inspire and help so many people and bring attention to my sport because that’s what it deserves,” Prince said.
Thanks to Prince, the inequities between men’s and women’s sports that have been frequently dismissed and overlooked will seldom be ignored again.
I realized that this tournament was much bigger than basketball.
The outrage that occurred against the NCAA, from Prince and many other athletes, touched a nerve with every woman in athletics who felt lesser than their male counterparts.
Covering my first NCAA tournament in a pandemic was a blessing in disguise. Aside from top-notch play on the court, history was being made. Institutions are finally being held accountable. Female athletes are defending their truths and exposing the long-standing disparities. More conversations are happening. More people than ever are engaging with female sports.
When I put on those face masks now, I’ll remember not only Oregon’s basketball journey, but seeing the future of female sports in great hands for the years to come.
Follow Carly on Twitter @carlyebisuya
