My Sandbox

A while back Culture of Soccer, DCenters, and Sideline Views – probably others – talked about gay athletes and homophobia. I wrote this post, didn’t really think I hit what I wanted to say, kept it around as a draft, and, well, we’re in the holiday doldrums (at least in this country), so here it is.

I don’t have any important sociological advice that hasn’t previously been covered in the Gospel of the Freaking Obvious. But for when the time comes for a high-profile soccer player to come out, here’s my free advice.

(1) When it really, really comes down to it, it’s no one’s business.

Fans, media – even your coaches and fellow players – don’t have the right to judge you on anything about your personal life. That includes religion, orientation, politics – any of that. That’s irrelevant to your function as an entertainer in the athletics subsection of show business.

(2) But, if you come out, people are going to make it their business.

People will cheer for, and play alongside, racists, wife-beaters, rapists, and murderers as long as they perform well on a court or field. Some of those same people will be among your worst critics if you come out. Hypocrisy is a mighty and powerful thing. Expect the very, very worst. Read up on Jackie Robinson and Hank Aaron, and some of the things they had to go through.

Speaking of Jackie Robinson:

(3) If you do come out, don’t come out alone.

Robinson had to break the color barrier by himself. Larry Doby fought a very similar battle, but on a different team in a different league. The attention, positive and negative, fell on Robinson – and it drove him to an early grave.

For some reason, it wasn’t possible to bring in more than three players in 1947 throughout all baseball. It wasn’t because of talent – even the most casual baseball historian realizes that now. The story of Bill Veeck buying a team and stocking it with Negro Leagues all-stars is probably apocryphal, but had he done so? That team would have lost maybe twenty games all year.* But there was so much uncertainty that Branch Rickey had to carefully choose the most likely successful prospect based on temperament as well as talent. It was a ridiculously unfair assignment, and it’s a miracle Robinson pulled it off.

Today’s a different story. There’s no way in hell there’s only one professional gay athlete playing today. There shouldn’t be a gay Jackie Robinson – there should be five or ten, ideally twenty or thirty, crossing every pro sport in America.

Since we’re talking about prejudice, there’s a reason you, closeted gay soccer player, want players from other sports to come out with you. They still think soccer is a gay sport. And not gay in the cool way, where you’re all buffed out and have sex all the time. Gay in the insulting way.**

Now, that may not be a good reason. Taken to its logical conclusion, that turns into “Stay closeted for the good of the sport, and continue to give in to homophobia.” Thus defeating the whole purpose of coming out. I feel like a cretin for bringing this up, as if “the good of the sport” is any kind of valid stance. The game will survive. And the sport has no moral claim on you living your life how you see fit.

(4) You’ve already won half the battle.

Another advantage you will have over Robinson and Doby is that they had to prove that they could actually play the game, and suffered the burden of the consequence of failure. You, closeted gay athlete, have presumably already proven that gay people can be athletes – you just haven’t let anyone know about it yet.

(5) There might be no upside for you.

I don’t have to tell you that the incentive to remain closeted is pretty strong. It wasn’t as if Robinson could dye his skin (please, no Michael Jackson jokes). If he was going to play major league ball, then he had to take American society along for the ride. You don’t, and so far, you haven’t. There’s no particular urgency in it for you, and probably a lot of incentive to keep things as they are.

(6) It won’t change people’s minds about homosexuality, at least not overnight.

It would be nice to say that Jackie Robinson cured racism, wouldn’t it? He had a huge impact, of course – once again, I’m reading from the Gospel of the Freaking Obvious. But it didn’t change everything. (Maybe Bull Connor wasn’t a baseball fan.)

The very, very, very minimum he achieved, though, was to make it much more difficult and uncomfortable for racists to be baseball fans. Unlike Robinson, who I’m fairly certain had no racist fans, you probably have homophobic fans right this moment. It might be fun to turn the tables on them. So you will at least force a few people to make some uncomfortable choices.

That might not be worth it for you. And it’s not really your job. If I, as a fan, don’t want my fellow fans to be racists, bigots, homophobes, and so forth, I shouldn’t depend on you. I should make my own stand.

No one’s going to wear my name and number, and I’m not in a position to become a hero to future generations of gay and lesbian kids, civil libertarians, progressives, and liberals. On the other hand, for untold millions of bigots, pseudo-zealots, tools and neanderthals, I won’t be Satan incarnate.

Good luck whatever you decide. I yield my time to the senator from Idaho.

*Not because of black superiority. You’d have gotten the same result if an American League All-Star team had played a season in one of the Negro Leagues. The point here is that there were a lot more than three guys who could have made the transition. We’re talking about guys who are in the Hall of Fame now. I think they could have cracked the Senators lineup.

**The “Not gay in the cool men having sex with men way, but gay in the bad way” joke is from a friend of mine, and if you don’t think that’s the funniest thing ever, then why do I want to know you? I don’t, that’s why.