Purple Reign
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Ailene Voisin: At 39, Bolton wants to play again
By Ailene Voisin - Bee Sports Columnist
Published 12:00 am PST Thursday, February 1, 2007
In the 400-seat gym tucked inside a sprawling business park in Roseville, the best player in the building was sidelined for the entire game. She watched, horrified, as members of the home team dropped passes, blew layups, missed open jumpers, squandered leads. She wanted to stand up and scream, "Put me in, coach," only to remember, after the senior moment had passed, that she is the coach.
But next week? Next month?
Ruthie Bolton is tinkering with the script yet again. The former Monarchs star is attempting a comeback as a player-coach, though not in the conventional sense. Never in the conventional sense. The plan is to contact general managers around the WNBA, play somewhere in the league next summer, then return as William Jessup's head coach for a fourth season in the fall.
And, of course, Ruthie knows this entire scenario is absolutely crazy, if absolutely Ruthie. She is 39 years old and has two creaky knees. She has two Olympic gold medals, a reputation to preserve and nothing left to prove, except perhaps to herself. The clock ticks. Two years into retirement from professional basketball, she is at least partly motivated by the encroaching hints of a midlife crisis.
"I guess so," Bolton admitted, with a grin. "I'm sure that has something to do with it. But I feel like I have something left. I don't like the way my career ended. I don't feel like I left on my terms. It's been bugging me, and I need to find some peace."
Part of the problem is that Ruthie missed the big bash. She was there for the inaugural 1997 Monarchs season, there for the tough times, but after eight WNBA seasons, numerous knee surgeries and one highly improbable comeback, she retired months before John Whisenant's club won the 2005 championship.
So the job search begins. Here. There. Houston. Los Angeles. New York. Phoenix. Italy. Spain. Ruthie will go anywhere for the price of a tryout -- on her dime if necessary.
"She's serious, isn't she?" asked Whisenant, now the club's general manager. "I told Jenny (Boucek) to talk to her. But ... it would be hard for me to waive her if it came to that."
Boucek in fact met with Bolton earlier in the week, and after watching the muscular, 5-foot-9, 150-pounder shoot around, the incoming Monarchs coach (and longtime friend) offered to help her land a job. In Iceland.
"Jenny played there and knows some people, and I think the Monarchs are going in a different direction," Bolton said. "And that's OK. I'll see what else is out there. And if I call around, and no one is interested? ... That would tell me that it's time to move on. "
She was barely recruited out of high school yet became a star at Auburn. She paid her way to her first national team tryouts and emerged as a favorite of 1996 Olympic coach Tara VanDerveer. Bolton served as a first lieutenant in the Army Reserves, established valuable international contacts and played professionally overseas. She retired as a two-time all-WNBA performer, as one of the league's pioneers and one of the Monarchs' all-time favorite personalities.
So why not craft her own ending? Why not try it again? Ummmm, because she might be developing into a very decent coach and tenaciously pushing her way to the top?
Coaching the Warriors (9-15) of the National Association of Intercollegiate Athletics is as exhausting as Whisenant's infamous training camps. This is both hard labor and a labor of love. A Christian university with 600 students, Jessup doesn't provide fat per diems for athletes and offers only a restricted number of scholarships. The Rocklin school even lacks an on-campus athletic facility to call home. Games are played at the NEC Electronic gymnasium in nearby Roseville.
Yet Bolton patrols the sideline with the passion she displayed as a player, her animated features swinging with each possession. She folds her arms, slaps her thigh, claps her hands, chomps her gum. She cheers. She hugs. She still hates to lose.
"I try to be patient," she said, her voice tired and hoarse. "I know I have to meet the girls halfway, not expect too much."
So she watches from the sideline and wonders whether she would have missed that layup, converted that jumper, completed that pass. She thinks she can still play, so of course, she will.
By Ailene Voisin - Bee Sports Columnist
Published 12:00 am PST Thursday, February 1, 2007
In the 400-seat gym tucked inside a sprawling business park in Roseville, the best player in the building was sidelined for the entire game. She watched, horrified, as members of the home team dropped passes, blew layups, missed open jumpers, squandered leads. She wanted to stand up and scream, "Put me in, coach," only to remember, after the senior moment had passed, that she is the coach.
But next week? Next month?
Ruthie Bolton is tinkering with the script yet again. The former Monarchs star is attempting a comeback as a player-coach, though not in the conventional sense. Never in the conventional sense. The plan is to contact general managers around the WNBA, play somewhere in the league next summer, then return as William Jessup's head coach for a fourth season in the fall.
And, of course, Ruthie knows this entire scenario is absolutely crazy, if absolutely Ruthie. She is 39 years old and has two creaky knees. She has two Olympic gold medals, a reputation to preserve and nothing left to prove, except perhaps to herself. The clock ticks. Two years into retirement from professional basketball, she is at least partly motivated by the encroaching hints of a midlife crisis.
"I guess so," Bolton admitted, with a grin. "I'm sure that has something to do with it. But I feel like I have something left. I don't like the way my career ended. I don't feel like I left on my terms. It's been bugging me, and I need to find some peace."
Part of the problem is that Ruthie missed the big bash. She was there for the inaugural 1997 Monarchs season, there for the tough times, but after eight WNBA seasons, numerous knee surgeries and one highly improbable comeback, she retired months before John Whisenant's club won the 2005 championship.
So the job search begins. Here. There. Houston. Los Angeles. New York. Phoenix. Italy. Spain. Ruthie will go anywhere for the price of a tryout -- on her dime if necessary.
"She's serious, isn't she?" asked Whisenant, now the club's general manager. "I told Jenny (Boucek) to talk to her. But ... it would be hard for me to waive her if it came to that."
Boucek in fact met with Bolton earlier in the week, and after watching the muscular, 5-foot-9, 150-pounder shoot around, the incoming Monarchs coach (and longtime friend) offered to help her land a job. In Iceland.
"Jenny played there and knows some people, and I think the Monarchs are going in a different direction," Bolton said. "And that's OK. I'll see what else is out there. And if I call around, and no one is interested? ... That would tell me that it's time to move on. "
She was barely recruited out of high school yet became a star at Auburn. She paid her way to her first national team tryouts and emerged as a favorite of 1996 Olympic coach Tara VanDerveer. Bolton served as a first lieutenant in the Army Reserves, established valuable international contacts and played professionally overseas. She retired as a two-time all-WNBA performer, as one of the league's pioneers and one of the Monarchs' all-time favorite personalities.
So why not craft her own ending? Why not try it again? Ummmm, because she might be developing into a very decent coach and tenaciously pushing her way to the top?
Coaching the Warriors (9-15) of the National Association of Intercollegiate Athletics is as exhausting as Whisenant's infamous training camps. This is both hard labor and a labor of love. A Christian university with 600 students, Jessup doesn't provide fat per diems for athletes and offers only a restricted number of scholarships. The Rocklin school even lacks an on-campus athletic facility to call home. Games are played at the NEC Electronic gymnasium in nearby Roseville.
Yet Bolton patrols the sideline with the passion she displayed as a player, her animated features swinging with each possession. She folds her arms, slaps her thigh, claps her hands, chomps her gum. She cheers. She hugs. She still hates to lose.
"I try to be patient," she said, her voice tired and hoarse. "I know I have to meet the girls halfway, not expect too much."
So she watches from the sideline and wonders whether she would have missed that layup, converted that jumper, completed that pass. She thinks she can still play, so of course, she will.
