Culture
Granny style: Can an 84-year-old make the WNBA? She's got their attention
Shirley Simson, an 84-year-old mother of four, grandmother of 14 and great-grandmother of 10, stood inside the lobby of Las Vegas’ Bellagio Hotel & Casino on an early January afternoon waiting for her ride. She wore bright pink athletic shorts with the phrase “SPORT DRIP” printed all over, a white single-leg sleeve running down her left side, a white shooting sleeve on her right arm and a white headband with “CANDY” in its center tying back her gray hair. Alongside two of her grandchildren, Shirley planned on making a 20-minute trip to Henderson, Nev., where the Las Vegas Aces are headquartered. She hoped to work out inside the WNBA team’s facility.
Before the trio departed, a teenager — “a young lad,” in Simson’s words — spotted her near the hotel’s entrance and asked for a photo. She had never been stopped like that before. She was surprised, but she obliged anyway.
Simson has lived almost all her life in obscurity. For around four decades, she was a registered nurse in southern British Columbia, Canada. Now retired, she gardens, plays bridge, creates stone sculptures and participates in two book clubs. Despite her age and height — she was once 5-foot-6 but says she’s shrunk to 5-4 — Simson is also a basketball player. Or, rather, she is trying to be one.
She’s hoping to become a WNBA All-Star. “To me, life is worth living,” Simson says. “I just think you should make the most of it because you’re only here for a certain length of time.”
In mid-October, Simson’s journey to the professional ranks began. Her grandchildren, Parker, 25, and Hunter, 21, pitched her on it, and she was immediately game. “I was enjoying being with them,” Simson says, “and I was always somebody into things a little bit zany anyway.”
They film her practicing at their local recreation center then share the edited videos on the Instagram and TikTok accounts of their basketball accessory brand, Court Candy, which they founded in the summer of 2020. They are aiming to produce at least 50 videos of her, presenting it as a series with each titled “Grandma to the WNBA.” Simson voices over her footage, using Gen Z phrases like, “I’m strapped,” “I started cooking,” and “chef Curry with the pot, boy.”
“I don’t know what it means, but they don’t understand lingo from my era,” she says.
The project is aspirational, of course. Simson’s grandchildren hoped it would bring more awareness to their company. But it was also a way for her to get in better shape after undergoing a left knee replacement last March. Most importantly to the trio, it allows them to spend more time together.
“She’s one of our best friends, genuinely,” Parker says.
Simson last played recreational basketball in nursing school six decades earlier. In her first workout back, she struggled. “I was hopeless,” she says. “I couldn’t dribble. I couldn’t get it to the basket, unless I was doing it granny style.” That didn’t deter her, however. Nor did it turn off consumers. Her progress has subsequently attracted the attention of millions.
The series debut received nearly 2 million views on TikTok alone. Three other videos have gotten more than a million views on the social media platform. Three videos on Instagram have crossed the 500,000-view plateau. Simson says she doesn’t really understand social media. “I don’t have enough time in my life to do all that,” she says. Nevertheless, she appreciates that people have followed along. Parker and Hunter frequently show her the comments. “We think that’s the coolest part for her,” Parker says. They are overwhelmingly positive. “I’m delighted that people have taken interest because one of the main factors is, if you’re moving, you’re grooving,” Simson says.
Her workouts start earlier than any standard WNBA or college practice. On training days, Simson wakes up at around 5:30 a.m. and begins getting ready. By 7 a.m., she’s on the court, outfitted not only in her grandchildren’s accessory brand but also their basketball sneakers, which she wears only after putting on two pairs of socks and inserting an extra in-sole. Her grandchildren run her through her drills, like two-ball dribbling and pin-down shooting. She practices both underhand and overhand jumpers. She’s still using an eight-foot hoop; they hope to eventually reach WNBA regulation.
Shirley Simson works on her agility with guidance from her grandchildren. (Courtesy of Court Candy)
In one video, Simson pushes away her walker. In another, she lifts free weights and does split lunges. She practices her vertical jump — it’s 0.67 inches — and completes a three-cone drill in just over six seconds. Multiple videos show her racing through a step ladder, sometimes with a basketball, which she says is among the most difficult exercises. “Baba, you’re 84-years-old. You’re doing great,” her grandchildren tell her when she struggles.
The WNBA has started taking notice of Simson. In December, the Connecticut Sun commented “Grandma… where you at?”
“That was like holy crap,” Hunter says. Soon after, and following Simson’s urging during a video itself, the league’s official account left eye-emojis on its Instagram and TikTok content. Liberty star Breanna Stewart even shared a video of Simson on her Instagram story.
Still, the Simsons’ Las Vegas adventure didn’t exactly pan out as they hoped. Without an appointment, Parker says a security guard at the Aces facility turned them away. Instead, they filmed a video on the sidewalk outside.
The Simson grandchildren hope the project creates more opportunities for “Grandma Shirley,” who they recently launched a separate Instagram page for. It’s called “EasyMoneyGranny,” a play on Kevin Durant’s “easymoneysniper” handle.
They’d love to see her receive an invite to a WNBA All-Star Game or for her to play a ceremonial role at the draft. “We just want to have it lead to some cool adventures for her,” Parker says.
That prospect excites Simson, though it produces some worries too. She’s asked her grandsons: “What if somebody wants me to actually come and then I’m not good enough? What if a team takes me and I play lousy?”
They respond: “Baba, don’t worry, they’re not gonna expect you to be dunking and doing crazy stuff.”
It also doesn’t help quell any nerves that a family vacation and a holiday cold temporarily halted Simson’s workouts. But having recovered and settled back in at home in British Columbia, her journey to the WNBA will continue.
“Those of us who are fortunate enough to still be alive, we should show people that old people can do things and old people can have dreams,” Simson says. “Though we might forget a lot, we sure know how to do a lot too.”
(Top photo of Shirley Simson: Courtesy of Court Candy)
Culture
Finding Wisdom in a Poem by Wendy Cope
Where do you turn when you need advice? A chatbot? A life coach? A wise and trusted friend?
How about a poet? Poets may not be famous for making the best life choices, but because they subject the mess of human existence to the discipline of language, they can be as helpful as any therapist or mentor.
Good poets know the rules and when to break them, which is something they can teach the rest of us.
To wit:
Giving advice is a peculiar literary undertaking. It flourishes in certain popular genres — graduation speeches, newspaper columns, country and western songs and poems like this one — but what, in these contexts, is it really for?
I’m thinking of situations when you don’t urgently need help but nonetheless enjoy reading answers to questions you may not have thought to ask. What interests you isn’t the content of the advice — you could get all the life hacks you want from A.I. — so much as the voice of the person dispensing it.
Wendy Cope is an English poet, born in 1945, who has been a fixture of her country’s literary scene since the 1980s. More recently, her short, buoyant poem “The Orange” has been widely memed online, bringing her to the attention of new readers beyond Britain.
Cope favors rhyme, meter, brisk jokes and tart aperçus. She addresses romance, friendship and the petty absurdities of modern life with disarming good humor. The last line of “The Orange” is “I love you. I’m glad I exist.” Somehow she makes it the opposite of cringe.
This isn’t the kind of poetry you would describe as “confessional.” And yet …
Question 1/7
Stop, if the car is going “clunk”
Or if the sun has made you blind.
Don’t answer e–mails when you’re drunk.
Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.Want to learn this poem by heart? We’ll help.
Fill in the missing words below. You can always refer to the reading by A.O. Scott and full
text above.Let’s start with the first stanza.
Culture
Can You Match the Places These Authors Lived With Settings in Their Books?
A strong sense of place can deeply influence a story, and in some cases, the setting can even feel like a character itself. This week’s literary geography quiz highlights places where authors were born (or lived) that later became locations in their books. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the works if you’d like to do further reading.
Culture
Book Review: ‘America, U.S.A.,’ by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.
AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries, by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.
For those of us in the national memory-keeping business, anniversaries hold near-totemic power. Satisfyingly round units of time, ideally bearing fancy, Latin-derived names, serve as the overburdened pegs on which to hang think pieces and museum exhibits, revisionist documentaries and maudlin public ceremonies. The arbitrary nature of such occasions is precisely what gives them their charge, inviting us to set aside complacency and submit to a comprehensive check-in.
In his new book, “America, U.S.A.,” Eddie S. Glaude Jr. presents an intriguing variation on the genre, seeing the country’s 250th birthday as an anniversary of anniversaries: 50 years since the malaise-ridden, schlock-heavy Bicentennial. A century since the subdued Prohibition-era Sesquicentennial. A century and a half since telegraphed reports of George Armstrong Custer’s defeat by the Lakota and Cheyenne at Little Bighorn rudely interrupted the Gilded Age Republic’s 100th birthday party.
If an anniversary offers a snapshot of a moment, the core of Glaude’s book is an old-timey photo album, a collection of notable episodes from earlier national reckonings, long-ago glances in the mirror. An estimable scholar of Black history, politics and religion at Princeton — best known for “Begin Again,” his 2020 meditation on James Baldwin’s relevance for our times — Glaude focuses, as his subtitle puts it, on “how race shadows the nation’s anniversaries.”
Such celebrations, he contends, have never really been the moments for honest self-reflection they are often advertised to be. Instead, the nation usually shatters the mirror, refusing to accept what it prefers not to see. “American anniversaries are often moments to turn a blind eye to the evils of the past and the present,” Glaude writes, “to suppress the fact of America’s divided soul.”
It’s a clever concept, and, needless to say, perfectly timed. Last year, Glaude notes, the Trump administration executed a hostile takeover of the government’s studiously bipartisan 250th anniversary planning. It is now preparing a program that is certain to conceal more than it reveals about the country ostensibly being celebrated.
Glaude, in no mood for celebration, argues that such omissions and evasions also defined commemorations in the past. In 1875, Frederick Douglass predicted “one grand Centennial hosannah of peace and good will to all the white race of this country.” He was right: The nation reached 100 years old at a crucial moment in the post-Civil War fight over racial equality, with white Northerners ready to give up on Southern Reconstruction. The occasion would help the once-warring sections to reunite around a shared commitment to white supremacy. On May 10, 1876, at the opening of the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, the police tried to bar Douglass from the grandstand, until a white politician vouched for him.
The 150th anniversary came soon after a resurgent Ku Klux Klan successfully pushed for a restrictive immigration law aimed at keeping America a “Nordic” nation. At the lavishly funded, lightly attended celebrations in Philadelphia, Black veterans of World War I were excluded from marching in the opening parade. A writer with The Associated Negro Press wondered “what was in the breast of those black men who fought to make America safe for Democracy and on Monday stood on the sidelines, forgotten, as the Nordic strode by in all his vain pride.”
By 1976, when the nation marked its Bicentennial, the violence of the ’60s had destroyed any semblance of consensus. Vietnam and Watergate had eroded trust in the government. The commission initially tasked with organizing the anniversary was disbanded amid reports of corruption. Corporations filled the vacuum, Glaude explains, with “star-spangled whoopee cushions; patriotic toilet seats; Liberty hamburgers; red, white and blue beer cans.” The author, around 8 years old at the time, dimly remembers donning a pair of tricolor trousers.
A half-century later, Glaude is refreshingly honest about the depths of his despair. “I do not love America, and never have, especially now,” he writes in one of the more startling opening sentences I’ve read in some time. He dismisses this year’s Semiquincentennial as reaching back “to a storybook America that requires either the banishment of Black people from view or the reduction of our role in the country’s history, so as to affirm America’s ongoing quest to be a more perfect union.”
Undoubtedly true. But Trump doesn’t own the country, at least not yet, nor the 250th anniversary of one of the most radically liberatory and confusingly contradictory events in world history — an inspiration, as Glaude shows, even to critical observers of the American experiment, like Douglass. Far from the revanchist MAGA-palooza in Washington, I suspect this summer’s unasked-for invitation to national soul-searching may surprise us yet.
Despite his despair, Glaude concludes that “the past still offers resources for us to freedom-dream.” So, too, does this book.
AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries | By Eddie S. Glaude Jr. | Crown | 270 pp. | $31
-
Idaho4 minutes agoIdaho Chukar Foundation hosts rattlesnake, skunk, and porcupine avoidance training
-
Illinois11 minutes agoDriver injured after crashing through two garages, hitting two houses in Niles: police
-
Indiana13 minutes agoMooresville police officer involved in ‘serious crash,’ investigation underway
-
Iowa19 minutes agoU.S. Senate candidate Josh Turek spends Saturday campaigning in eastern Iowa
-
Kansas26 minutes agoSheriff: 2 Kansas suspects arrested, stolen items recovered
-
Kentucky29 minutes agoTroopers: Woman killed, 2 juveniles seriously injured in Pendleton County crash
-
Louisiana34 minutes agoLouisiana Gov. signs Caleb Wilson Hazing Prevention Act
-
Maine41 minutes agoWSJ: Maine Senate candidate’s wife says she found explicit texts on his phone