By Marissa Essenburg | Sports Writer
If you’ve ever watched a high-profile NBA game, chances are you know the name Doris Burke.
A Hall of Fame sportscaster and the lead NBA analyst for ESPN and ABC, Burke has spent decades breaking down the game with sharp precision and a delivery that makes even the most complex plays feel effortless. Players praise her insight, colleagues respect her craft and fans like myself admire the way she makes basketball analysis sound like poetry.
Yet, every season, Burke’s commentary trends online not purely for its brilliance, but because so many still marvel at the fact that such authority and mastery came from a woman.
It’s reactions like these that reveal less about women’s knowledge of sports and more about the culture that surrounds them. Despite decades of transformative contributions — especially in the last three years — women’s expertise in sports is still too often treated as an anomaly by athletes, coaches, executives and journalists.
The issue isn’t that women need to “get educated” on sports. The problem is that audiences, media and casual fans alike must stop acting surprised when women bring authority and insight to the conversation.
I could rattle off journalist after journalist who are transcending the game — and I mean every game — but the list would go on forever. Malika Andrews, Kris Budden, Elle Duncan, Holly Rowe and Molly Qerim alone are enough to silence the skepticism, as their work makes it impossible to deny women’s authority in sports.
As a little girl dreaming of playing shortstop in the Little League World Series or sinking the game-winning basket on a national championship stage, I spent six straight birthdays blowing out candles on cakes shaped like baseballs, fields and courts.
To me, it felt normal for girls to play and talk about sports. But I always wondered why more girls weren’t doing the same — and even more, why people seemed unsure if they should be impressed or skeptical of my ability to play or talk about the game.
As I grew older, I watched more women step onto the sidelines, not just as cheerleaders, but also as reporters, analysts and anchors. Still, I couldn’t ignore the same questions: why are there so few, and why do the men behind me at Buffalo Wild Wings seem more focused on critiquing a sideline reporter than on their quarterback, who just threw a pick-six and fumbled the football on back-to-back drives?
The truth is, now more than ever, my questions have been answered — women are dominating the sports industry, and credit is finally being given where it’s due.
Ask any colleague of a woman in sports, and I’d bet you’d hear nothing but the highest regard, without so much as a second thought about gender.
So why does our society still continue to doubt?
When it comes to sports, whether you play, once played or couldn’t give a rip about them, it’s hard to deny their power.
I’m a firm believer that sports are way more than just games. They’re a cultural force that shapes how we connect, compete and understand the world.
They influence politics, drive billion-dollar industries and build communities that cross every divide. Now imagine if half the population is treated as though they don’t belong in those conversations — the richness of sports culture doesn’t just diminish, it collapses.
Normalizing women’s voices in sports isn’t about handing out participation trophies. It’s about acknowledging reality: women already possess the knowledge, passion and experience. When those voices are overlooked or questioned, sports lose diversity of perspective — and diversity is what elevates any conversation.
Decades of cultural conditioning have framed men as the “default” sports experts. Boys are encouraged to memorize stats, debate rankings and imagine themselves on the field.
Girls who do the same are often told they’re “impressive” — a label that sounds flattering but carries a quiet sting, implying their presence is unexpected.
The end goal isn’t applause every time a woman gets something right about sports. It’s a world where nobody bats an eye when the sharpest, loudest, most insightful voice in the room happens to belong to a woman.
So the next time you hear a woman explain why a defense collapsed, analyze a stat sheet or predict who’s going to win the pennant, resist the urge to be surprised. Recognize that she belongs in the conversation, not as an exception but as part of the long-overdue new normal.
Women don’t need to be educated on sports; the culture just needs to catch up.
