By Kelly Whiteside
NEWSDAY, May 16, 1999

On Friday, the day the news about their GM's announcement filtered through the team, the Liberty went about basketball as usual. They boarded their team bus in Manhattan and traveled to West Hempstead for the first day of training camp at the Island Garden. They talked about their GM for about five minutes and returned to a more pressing issue: earning a spot on the team roster.

An afternoon earlier, at media day, the last sentence of Liberty vice president and general manager Carol Blazejowski's biography broke new ground in the homophobic world of sports. In the team media guide distributed that day, Blazejowski's bio said that she lives with Joyce, her partner, and their two children, Lainey and Luke. Blazejowski is believed to be the first executive of a professional sports team to publicly acknowledge that she is gay.

None of the players were informed of Blazejowksi's decision beforehand. When they heard about the media guide, this historic moment was simply no big deal. All the players know Blazejowski's family. They are at every game. Her daughter, the cutest red-haired kid in the Garden, usually finds her way onto the court to snuggle with Maddie, the floppy-eared mascot.

While Blazejowski has been open about her family around the team, Liberty players were surprised that she decided to share the news of her personal life with the rest of the world. It took great courage given that Blazejowksi, 42, has one of the most high-profile jobs in pro sports. The Hall-of-Famer is a GM in a league driven by marketing and corporate sponsorships, a league that loves to promote its "family image" and its players who also happen to be mothers. Come to think of it, Blazejowski fits that image, albeit in a way corporate sponsors aren't likely to embrace.

"Sports for men and women is tremendously homophobic," said Donna Lopiano, the executive director of the Women's Sports Foundation. "There is a great fear for gays and lesbians that their sexual orientation will have a negative affect on sponsorships."

In the deep-closeted world of sports, secrecy has always been the norm. While Blazejowski chose not to elaborate on the reasons why she decided to go public with her family, clearly it's because there is nothing to hide. If coach Richie Adubato can list his wife, three children and one grandchild in the media guide, Blazejowski should be able to mention her loved ones as well.

In a past biography, in that obligatory final sentence, Blazejowski has stated that she lives in Nutley, N.J., with her two dogs. What a relief it must be to finally fill in the rest of the family. "I'm glad she has the confidence and pride to say who she is," said Liberty forward Sue Wicks.

Though Blazejowski probably doesn't think of it in these terms, through this one seemingly small act, she is a pioneer. Which is really nothing new for her.

One summer nearly 20 years ago, a few dozen girls sat on the hardwood court at Rutgers Athletic Center at coach Theresa Grentz' basketball camp. The topic of the day was shooting. We were told that we would learn from the master.

As Grentz introduced Blazejowski, a three-time All-America at Montclair State (N.J.), she talked about Blaze, the pioneer. In Cranford, N.J., Blaze forced her high school to implement a girls team when she threatened to try out for the boys team. In college, she had to pay her own way since, at that time, there were few athletic scholarships for women.

Blaze picked up the ball. Shots whistled through the basket from every angle. Her motion was so fluid, so pure. Everything Grentz said was true. That day, a gym full of girls was introduced to a new role model. Surely, at all the basketball camps Blaze barnstormed in over the years, she had the same impact on hundreds of girls.