One of my good friends is Angela Taylor, the former general manager of the WNBA’s Washington Mystics.
I say former because a couple of days ago Angela and the Mystics parted ways. I have yet to speak to Angela, so I don’t know all of the details. But from what I can tell via her Twitter page, the split wasn’t entirely her idea.
Which pisses me off.
Angela Taylor is one of the best people I’ve ever met—a truly, truly, truly decent human being who loves basketball and gave everything she had to Washington’s women’s basketball team. What she had, for the record, was pretty friggin’ good. Under Angela, the Mystics reached the playoffs in consecutive years for the first time since the franchise went into operation in 1998.
Here’s typical Angela: A couple of months ago I wrote an SI.com column that sorta mocked the WNBA as an invisible league. The one call I knew I’d receive—and desprately didn’t want to receive—was from Angela. Well, she called. And she was pissed. P-i-s-s-e-d. We’ve been friends for years, and I’m sure it felt like a miniature stab in the back. So did she yell? Scream? Threaten me? No—Angela invited me to a Mystics game. “Come see for yourself, Jeff,” she said. “Bring your daughter.”
I agreed, but never followed up. Which, in hindsight, is a shame.
A damn shame.