Don’t Hate The Player
A HOME RUN IN THE net equals seven points across the ice, with a free throw rounding second base, sliding into a touchdown over a penalty box, and swooshing into nuttin’ but GOOOAL. That’s how sports work, right? (Not quite, I’m told.)
Stefanie Cochrane
The rules of sports are tricky, but they can be learned with ample study and application (and plenty of chicken wings). What can’t be found in any rulebook are the mentalities and attitudes that are just as pervasive on the playing fields as sweat and jerseys.
Our four major sports leagues — the MLB, NBA, NHL, and NFL — have become more than sources of recreation and competition. These all-American pastimes are social institutions, with players and their respective organizations’ behaviors setting the example for millions of fans. Much of this behavior has been positive. Pro players didn’t get to the bigs without ambition, hard work, talent, and a sense of camaraderie. These are the qualities to admire. They’ve given millions of dollars to charities and raised awareness on a number of social issues, which, given the extreme megaphone at their disposal, is certainly meaningful. They’ve given us family traditions and pride, Prince’s halftime show, and Tom Brady’s beard line (page me, Tom!).
But there’s also a dark cloud that looms over the machismo-laden leagues that range from the subtle to the very explosive, read: punch-out in an elevator shaft. Anything that challenges traditional forms of masculinity has a history of being perceived as threatening to the nature of major league sports. Athletes are often valued for their aggression and tolerance, and compassion may fall to the wayside because of it.
LGBT athletes have had a difficult run around the bases, so to speak, in order to find home in a team. In recent news, positive steps have been made by the major leagues to be more inclusive of our gay brothers — and sisters, WNBA, yass! — though this progress has been slow going and changes have been seemingly superficial at times.
BILLY BEAN
Not to be confused with that movie you saw that one time with Brad Pitt about a guy named Billy Beane-e-e-e. Our Billy Bean played professional baseball until suddenly retiring in 1995. Four years later, Billy publicaly came out and was vocal about his closeting being a direct factor in his decision to leave the league. Fifteen (count ’em!) years after that, Billy was appointed the MLB’s first Ambassador for Inclusion, a position designed to guide and educate sexism, homophobia, and prejudice within the MLB community. “If there would have been someone in the position that I’m now in when I was playing, I would not have quit. I would have reached out to somebody. And that’s a difference,” Billy said after the announcement. Billy’s new position is certainly a giant leap in the right direction for acceptance, though this is one aspect of the game that’s incredibly hard to measure. These are not pop flys or curve balls being taught, but instead require a complete relearning of what it means to be a good sportsman.
JASON COLLINS
Jason, the first active and out player in any major league’s history, is a former NBA player with an impressive career that spanned 13 seasons on eight teams. If you didn’t play with him, one of your teammates certainly did. Jason came out to the world in a self-penned article on SI.com that dropped in April of 2013, after the season had ended. “I’m a 34-year-old NBA center,” he began the groundbreaking announcement, then: “I’m black. And I’m gay.” He was met with support from fans and players alike for his courage, though muted locker-room biases may have cut his career short. He became a free agent in July of that year and was not invited to any training camps. Coinkydink? Maybe. In February, he signed to the Brooklyn Nets and finished the season out and his number 98 jersey became the number-one-selling jersey of that season, 98 chosen by Jason in memory of Matthew Shepard. Jason officially retired in November of 2014 and left a permanent mark on the league. He has set a new standard of what strength means as an athlete. The guy is 7 feet tall and has shattered gay stereotypes just as swiftly as he could dunk a basketball. Though the league has not exactly made the strides that the MLB has put forward, the doors have been opened and that’s something to cheer for.
MICHAEL SAM
You may remember Michael Sam from the celebratory kiss seen round the world’s arenas when he planted one on his long time boyfriend on live TV after being drafted by the NFL. He became the first openly gay football player in the league’s history, following Jason Collins’ example and shining a light for LGBT athletes everywhere. But let’s start from the beginning. Michael was an all-American player at Mizzou and was named the AP’s defensive player of the year in the SEC. If that sounds impressive, it’s because it is. Michael came out just before the NFL draft season, which resulted in media headlines and much speculation on his chances in the draft after the announcement. He was selected by the St. Louis Rams in the 249 pick, just seven drafts from the final selection and a far fall for a player with his stats. “Every team that passed me, I was thinking about how I’m going to sack their quarterback,” he later said. Isn’t that the kind of rough and tumble determination you want on the field and not on the sidelines? Michael played in the preseason, but was cut to make room for another player. The Dallas Cowboys signed him to their practice squad later that year, but eventually waived. He remained in the public eye as a positive and affective role model for the LGBT community, being named one of GQ’s Men of the Year, danced those hams out on Dancing with the Stars, and got engaged in January of this year to aforementioned boyfriend (congrats, y’all!). On May 22, he signed a two-year contract with the Montreal Alouettes and is currently practicing to be a defensive lightning bolt in the Canadian Football League. Time will tell, but perhaps the NFL will see what they’ve been missing out by casting off Michael Sam.
*****
These athletes have been integral players in the movement toward LGBT acceptance on a national sporting level. The point of equality is that hopefully these men will be remembered in sports for their talent and heart — not just their statuses as gay athletes. For now, someone must lead the way and these men have shared their truths with courage and are exceptional examples for players everywhere. What our great pastimes need are attitudinal shifts in the subtle hostilities of sports culture that will ultimately lead to more acceptance on and off the field. We can learn how to play the game, but we must learn to do it the right way. Period. Home run. You get the idea.
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