THE SPORTS EDITOR of Rafu Shimpo, a newspaper dedicated to Japanese Ameri

cans in Southern California, covers Lindsey Yamasaki almost as if she were a local athlete. Yamasaki grew up in Oregon and plays college sports at Stanford, but the paper still runs items on virtually every one of her basketball games.

"I don't know if we're covering her too much," David Inana, the sports editor, said with a small laugh. "But Japanese American college basketball players, there aren't that many of them, so it's a pretty big deal. She's kind of an icon in the community."

Yamasaki, a sophomore guard, had no idea that when she put on a Stanford uniform last year, her career would take on so much meaning to so many people. In addition to the Stanford alumni and faithful fans of women's basketball players, Yamasaki has a special following at Maples Pavilion.

"I have my own little section, of Asian girls, like a little club," she said, half in wonderment. "I don't know if they're from a school or a club, or who brings them here, but they just treat me like I'm their idol."

Sports have always been a mirror for the world at large, for its possibilities. Yamasaki - when she is dribbling, shooting, rebounding - brings a new image into the frame.

Traditionally, the most prominent Asian American fe-

male athletes in the United States have been figure skaters. In fact, at the elite level, figure skating may be the most demographically diverse of all sports. In the last 15 years, there have been two Japanese American national champions (Kristi Yamaguchi and pairs skater Kyoko Ina), one Chinese American (Michelle Kwan), an African American (Debi Thomas) and one Latino (Rudy

Galindo).

But skating is terribly expensive, inacccessible to many youngsters. And because the sport demands tiny bodies, the well-publicized succcess of Yamaguchi and Kwan might also play into the stereotype that size limits where athletes of Asian descent can excel.

But out of the range of TV networks and international spotlights, Japanese Americans have feverishly embraced basketball. In just one league in Los Angeles, run by the Japanese American Optimists Club, there are 1,000 girls playing the game. Orange County has about 500 more.

The Bay Area has a smaller, but equally passionate core of youth-league players. For about 70 years, families have rallied around the teams, some of which have become dynasties. The teams have become so popular, according to Chris Hirano of the Japanese Cultural and Community Center, that some of the leagues have resorted to barring players who are less than half Japanese.

"It's sort of ironic that these teams are becoming exclusionary," Hirano said, "when they were established originally because of discrimination, and the racism that was keeping Japanese Americans out of other leagues."

Yamasaki's success at Stanford may only increase the game's appeal. When I asked Hirano whether girls in his community center's basketball program ever asked about Yamasaki, he let out a long "Oh yeah. . . . I've heard boys talking about her, just wondering where she comes from, how she got to Stanford."

Rick Yuen, assistant dean of students of Stanford and director of the school's Asian American Activities Center, said he could see an increase in women's basketball among Asian American teenagers.

And where did he see it? "In my own home," Yuen said. He has 13-year-old twin daughters, Tania and Lia, who regularly pick up the sports section and make note of Yamasaki's accomplishments.

In the beginning, this sort of attention caught Yamasaki by surprise. "I wasn't used to representing the Asian culture," she said. But at age 19, she has grown comfortable with her role-model status, eager to do as much as a two-sport athlete at an academically rigorous school can.

Last spring, she went to Los Angeles to speak at a children's event sponsored by the Japanese Cultural Center. The organizers had closed off a street in Little Tokyo and set up basketball nets for a clinic. Marcia Murota, the

coach of the Cal State-L.A. women's team, helped coach at the clinic, and she was impressed with the way Yamasaki and Natalie Nakase, a backup point guard at UCLA, reached out to the children.

"It was inspiring for them to see these two women and know that they had taken their game to another level," Murota said. "They definitely knew who they were. They were shouting Lindsey's name and asking for her autograph."

Nakase is only about 5 feet, 1 inch tall, whereas Yamasaki stands 6-2. According to Yamasaki's father, Syd, people are more surprised by his daughter's height than by the fact that she's one of the few Asian American basketball players in Division I.

Because she is so tall, it's possible that Yamasaki's success might not translate to encouragement for other, slighter Asian American girls. But Murota believes otherwise, that any positive influence can help a determined young girl to hurdle stereotypes on her own. Besides, Yamasaki doesn't do what's expected of an athlete with her height. She plays guard, just one more way of expanding possibilities. <