Anthony D. Lunsford

First, let me say thank you for selecting to spend your valuable time reading my story. I know all too well that you could have chosen from nearly 2 million other selections. Again, thank you for investing your time with me!

I was born in Corbin, Kentucky, the youngest of three children raised by two amazing parents. Our home lacked many modern creature comforts, like indoor plumbing, and walls to separate rooms. We had to walk to my grandmother’s house to lower a galvanized metal tube into a well to collect water. We travelled outside to relieve ourselves in the outhouse. Our home was heated by a potbelly stove and consisted of only one room with areas separated by curtains instead of walls and doors.

Both of my great-grandmothers were full blooded Cherokee. I’m not actually sure the percentage of Native-American blood my great-grandfathers had since I never even met or heard much about them. They both died before any of my siblings were born. So, at a bare minimum we are 12.5% Native-American. Cherokee Tribal enrollment requires only 1/16 or 6.25%. I’m extremely proud of, but never attempted to benefit in any way from my Native-American background.

My father left Corbin, Kentucky to increase our family’s chance for a better life. We moved to downtown Cincinnati in an extremely poor area called Over-the-Rhine. My dad eventually saved up enough money for a down payment and they purchased their one and only home for under $3,000 in a lower-class neighborhood. Both of my parents died in that home at the age of 61. Where our house was located was great for my brother, sister and me. It had a park with a basketball court at the end of our street. To my brother and I, it soon became our second home. We played basketball from daybreak until lunch, then back to the court until dinner, then our friend that was the caretaker at the park would turn on the lights and we’d play until 2 in the morning.

I grew up observing how hard my dad worked, routinely doing 7 days a week and lots of 12-hour days. My mom also was a very hard worker, earning ‘piece work’ wages at a shirt factory. This is where I learned from her the difference between a famous designer brand and house brand. Many times, the only distinction was her sewing a designer tag into the collar. The more shirts she sewed, the more money she made. The lesson was simply, people that work hard make more and idle people make less. What a simple concept, even an eight-year-old understood… EARNING A WAGE vs. being given a minimum wage!

I started working at a Chinese restaurant when I was 12 years old. They routinely worked me 12-hour days, clearly breaking every child-labor law. I earned $1.25 an hour cash and I was given the worst job duties to perform at the restaurant. I did everything the family didn’t want to do. I was their little American work horse, but even at 12 years old, I was smart enough to realize that was how the world worked. It was their family owned business and I was the outsider they paid to do the unpleasant tasks. I never dreamed of demanding equal work and equal pay for everyone. I might have been young, but I wasn’t an idiot!

We attended Carthage Elementary school and it was an excellent experience. All the teachers, students, and families were great and watched out for each other. When high school arrived, it was a whole different story. Most of my friends attended nice Catholic schools, but we were poor, so I was forced to attend an intercity high school, where I witnessed violent behavior that I had only seen in movies. You honestly had to learn to fight to survive. Kids were being jumped and beaten-up every single day. To cope with all the violence, I chose to never attend school on Tuesdays and hangout with a friends instead. On bad weeks, Thursday became my second skip day. I recently reviewed my old report cards where I realized that I actually missed/skipped 18 days the fourth quarter of my freshman year followed by skipping 21 days the first quarter of my sophomore year. My parents discovered how frequently I chose to not attend school after I received a three-day suspension for fighting in the cafeteria, and they were required to visit the principle before I could return.

After hearing what occurred at that school on a daily basis, my parents chose to use their friend’s address and transferred me to a different school. At the new school, the students and teachers didn’t fear for their lives. I never once smelled the pungent aroma of weed being smoked at school or heard of a single kid being jumped. I played basketball there and was varsity lettering in three sports. That was, until old habits and former friends influenced some bad decisions. My poor choices forced a quick exit, and it was goodbye to the school I loved.

My ‘last chance’ school was a Christian school, Central Baptist. I was back with my buddy Larry Smith from elementary school, whom I still played basketball with at the park daily. The school rules were tough, but I needed the discipline. My focus, attitude, and grades improved. My basketball coach turned out to be the Vice-President of the world’s largest independently owed software company. He persuaded me to attending the University of Cincinnati and working for his company while attending college. I was blessed to graduate from high school at the age of 16. I then attended the University of Cincinnati day and evening colleges and graduated from there at 18. I became the youngest hire at the software company and then married a young lady from that Christian high school right after turning 19. My understanding wife allowed me to continue my passion for playing basketball. During season, I played seven days a week in leagues and for two teams on Sunday. I was blessed in my thirties to play in my one and only professional ABA basketball game, where I tore my right calf going for a loose ball.

Years after starting my own company, I found myself in my old coach/boss’s office. I questioned him as to why he had taken an interest in and hired me when I clearly had nothing to offer him. He smiled and said, “I knew that same work ethic you possessed on the basketball court would transfer to your job. You took pride in working hard and never complained. You clearly understood what it meant to be an excellent teammate to those around you. Those were all the same attributes required to be successful in the business world. Actually, it was an easy decision to hire you. You were everything I wanted in an employee, but you were clueless to the values that you possessed.” That was the kindest thing that anyone had ever said about me. To be honest, while working for him, I felt I had to prove him right every day. I wanted to show everyone that I was worthy of being there. I was routinely the first guy at work and most days the last to leave.

I started and owned a software company for over 25 years and had over 40 employees. My company looked like the United Nations. We were a team of gay and straight men and women from all over the world. We were a collection from the Ukraine, China, Singapore, Columbia, Turkey, Russia, England, and the United States. We were Native American, African American, and Whatever American else you can think of. Hell, we even had blind guy, a guy that grew up on an Indian reservation, and even a ginger. I didn’t always select the elite top ten in their class. I attempted to give everyone an opportunity, no matter their background, as long as they appeared to possess an excellent work ethic. It was my ‘pay it forward’ approach for what had been done for me.

My two daughters from my first marriage, Jennifer and Lindsey were excellent students and an absolute pleasure to be around. They are now all grown up, married and very successful. I truly miss those days when they were tiny little girls in matching dresses. My daughters with my second wife were also excellent students. The oldest, Alysha was a focused kid. Never once did I have to ask if she had her homework done. She earned a Presidential scholarship to Xavier University and then earned her doctorate in Pharmacy at the University of Cincinnati. My youngest, Celina would always tag along with me when I played basketball. She developed a genuine love for the game and was continually recruited to play for teams all year round. She was the starting point guard for her varsity high school team when she was twelve-years-old and in the seventh grade. She broke her high school’s record for three pointers that year, hitting 72 and scoring 404 points. Her 18-year-old, senior teammate went on to play in the WNBA. Celina was invited by USA Basketball to tryouts in Colorado Springs but didn’t make the final day cut. The talent was so good; any of the final 50 girls could have earned gold. As a freshman, she became the youngest play in Ohio to reach 1,000 varsity high school points. Her senior year of high school, she was ranked 44th in the nation.

I discovered as she grew up how valuable women’s sports were for young ladies. I have always been a collector of memorabilia long before I knew there was a fancy word for collecting junk. I had always kept old basketball stuff, but it was primarily things related to men’s basketball. When my daughter started playing, that all changed. Together, we researched the history of women’s basketball, and now I possess quite an interesting collection of thousands of basketball historical items. Some of those items are: Dr. James Naismith’s immigration papers, the first photograph from 1893 of a women’s basketball game, an original 1910 basketball goal and backboard, and 19th century backboard and peach-basket, over a dozen game used jersey’s of The All-American Red Heads women’s barnstorming Hall of Fame team. I also have collected over a dozen WNBA Championship rings. My daughter was honored to walk the red carpet with Coach Cathy Rush at the movie premier of The Mighty Macs, a story about Immaculata College. Cathy Rush was the team’s head coach and they won the first three women’s national college championships.

I think you see why this issue and story hits home with me. I absolutely love, respect, value, and treasure women’s basketball and women’s sports in general. I simply want to protect those women and girls that work so hard every day to get a chance to chase their dreams.

My book, “Transgender Hoops – Identify as Female” was written as a story to describe the slippery slope that women’s sports face today. The tale is an extreme example of where unchecked decisions could lead us. Women have worked so hard to earn equal rights to compete and Title IX was critical to that success. I fear without reasonable discussions, wisdom, and a bit of common sense, we could be the generation that see’s the complete annihilation of what so many of us love…women’s sports.