IRVINE, Calif. _ The guy at the front desk hands Kendall Coyne Schofield a key on a string. She gathers an armful of hockey sticks and slings a heavy bag over her shoulder.
Things might be easier if she were a professional golfer or a point guard in the WNBA. There would be no reason to drive to this ice rink in Irvine at dinnertime, no need to lug all her stuff _ equipment rattling inside that bag _ through crowds of children who have come for skating lessons.
Finding her way down a dimly lighted hallway, Coyne Schofield unlocks the door to an auxiliary dressing room and changes alone. Her jersey is clean and white; a pink band holds her hair in a ponytail. Out on the ice, she joins a group of players who have invited her to their weeknight practice.
Soon her skates click rapid-fire, her arms pumping as she collects a loose puck and wheels toward the blue line. Pure speed makes her one of the top female players in the world, but, on this evening, the 27-year-old is working out with teenage boys.
"I'm a two-time Olympic medalist, but every day, I'm looking for a chance to practice," she says. "Where is there open ice time? Can I jump in with a junior team?"
Nearly 50 years after Congress passed Title IX, female athletes are still scrambling for a fair shot in the male-dominated world of sport.
Not all high schools and universities meet the groundbreaking legislation's benchmarks. At a higher level, the champion U.S. women's soccer team has filed a $67-million gender discrimination lawsuit against its federation, and there are numerous sports where women cannot be true professionals.
In hockey, top Americans like Coyne Schofield and Canadians train with their national teams part-time; the rest of the year, they have only a small pro league that offers limited practices, weekend games and small salaries.
"It's tough," American star Hilary Knight says. "You're playing in a glorified beer league."
This winter, more than 200 players have taken matters into their own hands, skipping the pro season to embark on a barnstorming tour. With exhibition games across the continent, they hope to stir fan support and persuade the NHL to create an affiliate league, like the WNBA.
"We want to show everyone that we're here," Canadian player Sarah Nurse says. "We have this great game."
There is no guarantee their gambit will succeed. But, like the others, Coyne Schofield is willing to take the gamble, even if it means spending her Tuesday night at a suburban rink with the Jr. Ducks under-16 squad.
"There are moments when you lose hope," she says. "Is it worth it?"
