In the spring of 1997, the NBA placed its considerable clout behind the formation of a new pro basketball league, the Women's National Basketball Association (WNBA). Women's professional basketball was, up to that time, an unmistakably losing proposition, with a miserable history of three previous failed leagues from the 1970s to the 1990s-soon to be joined by a fourth, the American Basketball League, which folded in December 1998. Part of the problem was that women's team sports were practically invisible to the public and the media, who preferred to lavish coverage on individual competitors in gymnastics, figure skating and tennis. This trend reached a peak during the 1996 Summer Olympics when mighty mites like Kerri Strug and Tara Lipinski captured the spotlight and female athleticism was regularly defined by images of lithe, prepubescent girls described by awestruck commentators as fairy-tale princesses.

But the WNBA is in a unique position to change such perceptions. Because of its NBA connection, the women's league has muscled its way into the public eye, spending upwards of $15 million to market its first season, attracting sponsors like Nike and Foot Locker, and reaching millions with live game coverage on national networks NBC, ESPN and Lifetime. Now, as the WNBA struggles to survive into its third season, we're also witnessing the emergence of a new language in women's sports, one that reconciles the values of femininity/strength, motherhood/career, individuality/teamwork, and youth/experience to promote female athletes as both role models and consumer icons.

Since the passage of Title IX legislation in 1972 (which required equal funding for male and female athletics programs in schools), women's participation in sports at all levels has skyrocketed. The result has been not just bigger numbers but more well-trained players, and a knowledgeable female fan base to root them on. Chances are better than ever that women watching female basketball players have heard of former NCAA stars such as Lisa Leslie and Rebecca Lobo. The rewriting of women's sports, then, is facilitated by the viewer's basic understanding of the rules of the game and the aesthetics of team play; "Aesthetics" in this case applying to the beauty of physical performance (as opposed to the passivity of attractive models/mannequins). This theme is highlighted in WNBA promos, where players pump iron and sweat, and in highlight videos where women slam bodies under the boards. Advertising campaigns that target males have even begun to recognize the emerging female archetype. A Bud Light spot, for example, shows two young studs on a neighborhood court. Their aggressive one-on-one play causes an impressed spectator - WNBA MVP Cynthia Cooper - to shout, "Y'all play like girls!"

And it's young girls who abound at the games themselves and in the sport's promotional material. From Mattel's "WNBA Barbie" to a team's "Meet the Players" promotion, the women's basketball industries are courting the smallest fans, not just as consumers in training, but as a way to resurrect the virtues of the athlete as role model. Sears and Lady Foot Locker run ads that show girls shooting hoops beside the pros, while network commentators describe a player's dedication to signing autographs for her "kids." It may be difficult to remember the last time a professional sports team successfully depicted one of its millionaire stars as "the common man," but the WNBA can still plausibly attempt to strike a balance between hero worship and folksy appeal.

Are people tuning in to women's basketball because of the commercials and feature stories? Or have the promotional pieces simply mirrored the sport's ability to grab the kind of diverse audience that will keep the women's team sports industries viable? Consider the demographic shifts that occurred among the three networks carrying WNBA games in 1997. According to a report in Variety, during WNBA broadcasts, male-oriented ESPN gained 10% more of the female audience than its average; NBC likewise shifted its viewership to 12% more women than usually watch its NBA coverage. And at the other end of the gender spectrum, Lifetime, the women's cable network, witnessed a slight gain in male viewers when it carried the WNBA.

Unfortunately, the increased interest in women's basketball, along with a new broad-based audience, could not prevent the American Basketball League from going into bankruptcy in December of 1998, midway through its third season. Touted as a rival to the WNBA, the ABL followed a similar pattern of marketing and promotion. Yet, with far fewer dollars to spend, it captured much less media attention. Most importantly, the playing season of the ABL overlapped both the NBA and college basketball seasons and failed to win a TV contract with a national broadcast network. Ultimately, would-be fans of the independent league were forced to hunt for taped replays on regional sports channels, or to search in vain for box scores in their local papers. Even during the NBA player lockout in 1998, the ABL could not secure a TV contract.

Though the new narratives of women as athletes can be as varied as the women themselves, some songs remain the same. In classic sports tradition, the WNBA has its Rivalries, its Underdogs, its Trailblazing Veterans, its Rags-to-Riches tales. The old clichés -- Intensity, Commitment, Dedication, and Love of the Game -- are resolutely gender-inclusive. Yet, supporters of the women's game have never been purists; they only want to celebrate the best that female athletes have to offer, so that generations of girls will understand that a Princess can also be a Powerhouse.