She smiles warmly at one of her seemingly countless fans, double-checking for accuracy the spelling of his name as she scrolls her signature across the face of the photograph that he had stood in line for nearly an hour to have her sign. The $5 asking fee appears to have had no effect on the number or enthusiasm of the admirers in line, everyone knowing in advance that the fundraiser had been scheduled for charitable causes anyway. As one might expect, her fans are overwhelmingly male in composition, but the gathering is peppered with several female devotees as well, many with whom Tanaka seems to develop instant rapport.
Hours pass. Innumerable autographs are distributed, eager hands shaken, countless hugs given, and photographs taken from every conceivable angle. Through it all Tanaka manages to look as amazingly fresh as when she had first arrived. Her hair and makeup still largely intact, the self-proclaimed entrepreneur/actress/model, best known for her eight years of cheerleading for the Raiders football team, has been the very embodiment of grace under pressure. Never failing to initiate direct eye contact and begin conversations with admirers, the confidence she exudes is downright infectious.
It has been a transition year in Tanaka’s career. An injury and the unquenchable desire to expand her life into new directions combined to prompt the veteran performer to announce her resignation earlier this year from the organization popularly billed “Football’s Fabulous Females”. That ended a decade-long stint that she remembers with fondness. “I wouldn’t change a thing,” she says with unwavering sincerity.
Tanaka claims to have always had a weakness for athletics, body shaping and physical fitness. Athletic accolades began trickling in at a surprisingly early age though Tanaka is reluctant to disclose her age more precisely than to say “I’m still in my twenties.” A Junior Olympic champion in synchronized swimming in 1974, she discovered early on that she enjoyed the ambiance of sporting events nearly as much as actually competing in them. “I’ve been cheerleading as long as I’ve been able to pick up pompoms,” says Tanaka with a smile while attempting to recall the first time she felt the urge to perform in front of crowds.
Her first professional cheerleading break was with the Raiders’ cross-town rivals in Anaheim. She landed a spot on the Rams cheer squad nearly by accident. “I was studying acting in college,” she says, “and I was trying to experience as many different kinds of auditions as I could.” Tanaka spent the next two years as one of the Embraceable Ewes, but eventually left to return to college and finish her degree.
One can’t help noticing that a very visible result of Tanaka’s rather aggressive interaction with her fans is that many stereotypical views of cheerleader personality traits are immediately and convincingly dispelled, though Tanaka denies any motive to do so. For starters she speaks in complete sentences, as any university graduate would be expected to do. Though there is no denying her hypnotizing beauty and obvious confidence in her generous physical attributes, it becomes clear almost immediately that she did not succeed because of her looks alone.
She takes great pride in her association with the Raiderettes, a tight bunch that busily promotes self-sufficiency and talent development both on and off the field — not at all surprising when one remembers that the Raiderettes entertain the home crowd at the L.A. Coliseum only a scant eight times in the course of each regular football season.
Among her Raiderette colleagues are a surprising number of university graduates who have studied everything from marketing to medical sciences. Many have prior acting experience and TV credits under their slim waistlines. Befitting a city that prides itself on its multi-ethnic atmosphere, a large proportion of Raiderettes are fluent in more than one language or culture. The women who make up the Raiderettes don’t lend themselves to typecasting.
Becoming a raiderette was no easy task, recalls Tanaka. Up to a thousand hopefuls audition for the squad each year; less than 50 eventually make the final cut. Competition is understandably fierce. “Any time you have a thousand women in one place, it can get pretty tense,” Tanaka points out. And how about competition inside the small group that eventually prevails and is selected? “Any time you have 40 women in one place, it can get pretty tense,” jokes Tanaka. “Seriously, we all get along quite well.”Next
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