Queens of the Court (FBPB3/FBCB)

[Young Drachma]

SPORTS ILLUSTRATED
March 15, 2009

The Coach Who Stayed
Madison Brooks and Detroit Mercy's 37-Year Journey
By Phoebe Mitchell

The old Catholic gymnasium at University of Detroit Mercy still echoes with memories. On a cold March morning, Madison Brooks walks these familiar hardwood floors one last time, her footsteps tracing paths worn by 37 years of practices, games, and what she calls "building moments." Now 65 and four years into retirement, Brooks speaks with the kind of clarity that only distance can provide.

"Christine Lopez was right there when she hit that buzzer-beater against Xavier in '78," Brooks says, pointing to a spot just beyond the three-point line. Lopez would go on to become Detroit Mercy's all-time leading scorer with 2,225 points, but Brooks remembers her more for the early morning shooting sessions and the way she'd mentor freshman guards.

It's easy to focus on the numbers that defined Brooks' career: 428 wins against 694 losses, the most defeats in women's college basketball history. But in the dimly lit gymnasium where she spent nearly four decades, Brooks sees something different. She sees the evolution of women's basketball itself.

When Brooks arrived in Detroit in 1969, fresh from her playing days at LSU, women's college basketball existed in a different universe. "We played in empty gyms, traveled by bus, and sometimes washed our own uniforms," she recalls. "But we were building something. We all were."

Those early years tested her resolve. The 1972 season brought a brutal 10-21 record, but it also brought Irene Head, a freshman point guard from Flint who would become one of the program's greatest players. "Coach Brooks taught us that basketball was about more than winning," says Head, who scored 1,680 points in her career. "She taught us about persistence, about showing up every day ready to work, ready to improve."

The closest Brooks came to a breakthrough was 1990, when a squad led by dynamic point guard Alyssa Marin went 18-12. But even in leaner years, Brooks remained steadfast. Her coaching staff showed remarkable loyalty – Ava Pires served as her assistant for the final 14 seasons, while Claire Ingersoll coordinated recruiting through three different conference alignments.

"Madison understood that we were developing young women first, basketball players second," says Pires, now an assistant at Michigan State. "She never wavered from that, even when the pressure to win became more intense in the '90s."

The modern era of women's basketball bears little resemblance to the world Brooks entered in 1969. Today's coaches face immediate pressure to produce results, with contracts often measured in months rather than decades. The idea of a coach staying 37 years at one program, weathering the struggles Brooks endured, seems almost unthinkable.

Yet Brooks' impact resonates through the program's history. Christine Lopez. Kylee Osborne. Olivia Bohannon. The names of Detroit Mercy's scoring leaders tell a story of player development that transcended win-loss records. "Coach Brooks saw potential in me that I didn't see in myself," says Bohannon, who scored 1,667 points from 1994-98. "She wasn't just building a program. She was building people."

When Brooks finally stepped away in 2005, she left behind more than a record of losses. She left a legacy of persistence that shaped hundreds of young women's lives. Her successor, Kennedy Donahue, inherited a program rich in tradition if not championships.

On her last walk through the gym, Brooks pauses at center court. The morning light streams through the high windows, illuminating the space where thousands of practices, hundreds of games, and countless moments of growth unfolded. "People ask if I regret staying so long," she says, her voice soft but certain. "How could I regret being part of something bigger than myself?"

In an era where coaching success is measured primarily in championships and NCAA tournament appearances, Madison Brooks' career reminds us that some victories can't be counted in a record book. Sometimes, the simple act of staying, of showing up day after day to build something lasting, represents its own kind of triumph.

[Young Drachma]

Paradise Lost: The Fall of Basketball's Prairie Dynasty

Hoop Magazine, April 2004

The weathered bronze statue outside the Zenith Center in downtown Sioux Falls still gleams in the harsh South Dakota spring sun. It depicts Molly Baltoski in full flight, ball extended high above her head, frozen forever in the moment before one of her signature thunderous dunks. The base reads simply: "Greatness Rises." These days, the statue serves more as a bittersweet reminder of what once was, rather than an inspiration for what could be.

The Dakota Zeniths, the most dominant dynasty in professional basketball through the 1980s, haven't seen playoff basketball since 1992. The team that once boasted a legendary coach-player triumvirate of Demi Bonanno, Molly Baltoski, and Marianna Larson now struggles to attract top talent to the upper Midwest, despite a passionate fanbase and rich basketball tradition.

"People forget how impossible it seemed at first," says former season ticket holder Margaret Larsen, who has witnessed the entire arc of the franchise. "A professional basketball team in Sioux Falls? But Demi, Molly, and Marianna made the impossible feel inevitable."

The numbers tell the story. From 1983 to 1988, the Zeniths won five championships in six years. The 1984 team, perhaps their finest, went an astounding 76-6 in the regular season. Baltoski and Larson formed the most lethal scoring duo in basketball history, with Baltoski's otherworldly efficiency (she shot an impossible 62.6% from the field that season) complementing Larson's explosive scoring (she averaged 38.8 points per game in 1985).

But what made the Zeniths truly special wasn't just the winning – it was how they won. Bonanno's innovative offensive system, which emphasized spacing and three-point shooting years before it became common in professional basketball, transformed the sport. Baltoski, who entered the Hall of Fame in 1994, redefined what was possible for a point guard. Larson, inducted in 1996, terrorized opponents on both ends of the floor, earning three Defensive Player of the Year awards while leading the league in scoring twice.

The end, when it came, was swift and brutal. The 1992 season marked the last hurrah of the dynasty, with both Baltoski and Bonanno departing after a second-round playoff exit. Twelve years later, the playoff drought continues.

What makes the Zeniths' situation unique is that, unlike other struggling franchises, relocation isn't an option. When the team moved from San Antonio in 1982, the South Dakota state legislature, eager to secure a professional sports franchise, passed the Professional Sports Preservation Act. This unprecedented law required any professional sports team operating in South Dakota to be replaced by a team of equal caliber in the same sport before relocation could be approved. The NBA, having signed off on this arrangement, finds itself in a bind: no ownership group wants to commit to placing a team in Sioux Falls before the Zeniths can leave.

The current roster reflects the team's challenges. While point guard Charley Tolley (22.3 points per game) and shooting guard Quanisha Watters (19.3 points) provide some offensive spark, the team lacks the transcendent talent that defined its glory years. Head coach Clara Lake, despite her defensive expertise, has struggled to implement a winning system, posting a career record of 248-392.

Even attempts to recapture past magic have fallen flat. Bringing Bonanno back as general manager from 1994-1997 failed to reverse the team's fortunes, with the Zeniths going 76-170 during her tenure.

"The league is different now," explains current GM Kailyn Sawyer. "In the '80s, you could build through the draft and keep your core together. Today's players have more options, more mobility. When free agents look at South Dakota winters versus Miami or Los Angeles, well..." She trails off, letting the obvious go unsaid.

Yet hope persists in Sioux Falls. The Zenith Center still draws respectable crowds, and local businesses proudly display faded photographs of the championship years. The statue of Baltoski continues to inspire young players who dream of bringing glory back to the prairie.

For now, though, the Zeniths remain caught between their glorious past and uncertain future, a reminder that in professional sports, even the mightiest dynasties can fall – and sometimes, due to circumstances beyond their control, they can't get back up.