McMoores: Generations spent doing the right thing

Bill McMoore was in the midst of a 15-year run as citywide athletic director for the Minneapolis high schools when he decided it was time to push forward some of the ideals of Title IX. Individual school ADs fought him on it. McMoore, a standout boxer and football player for the Gophers in the late '40s and early '50s, had three sons -- so it was not for personal gain.

"It was just what was right," McMoore said. "I thought that whatever benefit boys get from sports, girls should have the same opportunities."

Perhaps that sums up the McMoore family philosophy, as passed along now through several generations: When you do what you consider to be right, things will work out. Bill and his son Greg were discussing that idea as they watched high school senior Courtney McMoore, the latest in the line of South Minneapolis-raised McMoore athletes, play soccer for Washburn last week. Courtney is Greg's daughter and Bill's granddaughter, and her matches provide a good reason to get three generations together. She is the product of opportunities afforded by Title IX; she also has inherited the gene that doesn't mind equating the hard way with the right way.

Bill, after starring for Minneapolis South, was a left halfback in the single-wing offense for Bernie Bierman's Gophers. For much of his time at Minnesota, he was the only black player on the team. Greg, raised on the corner of 42nd Street and Oakland, bought and moved the family into his grandmother's old house nearby a decade ago. It was boarded up before then -- a trouble spot in a neighborhood in flux. Courtney, a talented defender/midfielder with a B average in school and aspirations of playing college soccer, could have followed the lead of so many others and open-enrolled at a suburban school with a loftier soccer pedigree. It was an option, but not really an option.

"It does get frustrating because none of the city teams get the light shined on them," Courtney said. "There are good teams, good kids and good players here. People should start coming here instead of leaving."

Greg, who played football at Macalester and now works in criminal justice, tackles the subject of open enrollment or a move to the suburbs by simply stating, "We're city people."

Bill, 81, remembers a time when the city schools ruled athletics and grumbles that open enrollment has ruined everything. Of course, he also grumbles because he can't fathom why Courtney -- with speed to burn -- was being used as a defender instead of a forward or midfielder as the Millers trailed 1-0 against St. Paul Highland Park.

Greg has the same grumbles, though he is more interested in watching his only child's final high school season -- and in saving his nervous energy for the possibility of her earning a college scholarship to play soccer. Courtney has promising leads with a few Division I schools; local Division III schools are also a possibility. Because Division III schools do not award athletic scholarships, the cost difference would be considerable over the course of four years.

A system that rewards athletic prowess with academic and financial gain is imperfect, Greg agrees, but he is treating this game much like his father treats the action on the soccer pitch: He might not understand it, but it's the thing in front of him that's impacting Courtney's life. He could sure stand winning the parent lottery and having college paid for, even if there might have been easier paths to gaining a scholarship.

"One way or another, I'm pretty sure something will work out," Greg said.

Around the same time he said that -- and with about two minutes left in regulation -- Washburn scored a goal that earned the squad a 1-1 tie. It came after a lengthy scrum, with the ball touching what seemed to be a dozen legs before trickling across the goal line. It was messy and hard. To the Washburn players, to the McMoore family and to a visitor watching from the stands, it was perfect and beautiful.

Michael Rand • mrand@startribune.com