Homosexuality, Homophobia, and Soccer
The occasion was the annual National Soccer Coaches Association of America
convention in Washington, D.C., several years ago. I had volunteered
to present a workshop on “Homosexuality, Homophobia, and Soccer”—a
first certainly for this gathering of 3,500 college and high school coaches,
and quite probably for any coaches organization anywhere in the world.
I had barely entered the hotel lobby when a fellow coach accosted me
with an article that had run in the Washington Times a few days earlier. The
piece predicted my presentation would be “the most controversial” of
the five-day convention.
I had expected a less-than-glowing article in the Moonie-owned paper,
based on the confrontational tone the reporter had taken when interviewing
me on the phone. I did not, however, expect that he would have
taken my off-the-record comments about being a gay coach and print them.
Had I been at a different stage in my life—I am, after all, openly
gay at the Connecticut high school where I coach and work as an English
department substitute teacher—I might have been stunned, mortified,
perhaps even suicidal. Instead I used the Washington Times article
as the introduction for my session.
“I could take the attitude, ‘What do you expect from a paper
owned by the Moonies?’” I began. “I could say
that—but it would be wrong. It would stereotype every Moonie
together—judging them all on the basis of what I’ve heard
about them, not what I know to be fact—and it would offend any
Moonies here in the audience.
“Are there any Moonies here?” I continued. “I
don’t know. I can’t tell by looking at you—and
I don’t want to cause problems for those of you who might be uncomfortable
declaring your Moonieality publicly.
“That’s natural. A lot of people in America today
don’t like Moonies. They don’t want their children
to be influenced by them. And they certainly don’t want one
of their kids to grow up to be one.”
It proved a perfect lead-in for the workshop.
I began with four stories I had collected from players and coaches. All
were true; the athletes were eager that their tales be told, though they
had various reactions to using their names and schools.
* * * * *
Chris, a former player at a major Southern university, is a distant
relative of Jesse Helms (“I’d be even more distant if he
knew I was gay,” he joked). As a college freshman he did
not come out because he feared being kicked off the team. “I
didn’t want to jeopardize our chances of winning over something
as inconsequential to me—but big to other people—as my sexuality,” he
said.
But as a sophomore he did come out, to the surprise of everyone (he
was dating a woman at the time). Some team members told him they’d
continue to play soccer together, but that socializing off the field
was out; others said it was no problem. One night Chris took a
few of them to a gay bar, and all had a great time. The on-field
support even took the form of a few strategic fouls against opponents
who taunted Chris.
Chris felt his decision to come out to his teammates was a good one. “It
was very self-satisfying to live my life fully,” he said, “and
maybe I opened the eyes of some homophobic people.” In the
three months after he came out, five people came out to him. “They
saw I could be macho and gay,” he analyzed.
Chris’s advice to straight players about dealing with a gay teammate,
or one who is rumored to be gay: “Be self-assured. I
may be attracted to a straight person, but I know not to do anything
stupid. I can’t be converted to heterosexuality, and you
can’t be converted to homosexuality.”
* * * * *
Morgan’s teenage years in a Boston suburb were not easy. Because
he was “different” he was teased, even on the soccer field. But,
he said, “I went through crap for 10 years because I loved the
game.”
He loved it enough to be picked for the Massachusetts state team, and
when he transferred to private Concord Academy he found his niche. He
became a four-year varsity player and was elected captain twice.
He came out as bisexual to the entire school during “chapel,” a
15-minute block of time in which any senior can speak. “I
blew the school away,” he recalled. “I was captain
of the soccer team, with a big reputation for dating girls.”
But no one was fazed by his announcement. “Terrific chapel,” his
coach said. “Now let’s get back to work.” Part
of that reaction was because he was known as an easygoing person; part
was the respect he’d earned as a player and leader. “Good
players don’t get picked on,” he noted.
* * * * *
Kelly never came out in high school or college because, she said, “I
didn’t have the depth of understanding to know there was a life
for lesbians to live. I had no idea how a lesbian would fit in
with her community, her family. I was just so fearful of the repercussions
in society and on my team.” So she dated men.
Her Ithaca College team was close-knit, and good: they won a Division
III national championship her junior year. Still, Kelly did not
come out. Today—with the knowledge that several other teammates
are lesbians too—she regrets it.
“My teammates would’ve supported me, and I would have been
able to progress a little farther,” she said. “I would
have had more honest, long-lasting friendships with my teammates. And
that’s the value of athletics: going through hard times together,
so the bonds will endure long after college.”
But, she noted, everyone has her own time scale and process for accepting
herself. Hers brought her to the end of college; she did not deal
with her sexuality until she moved to Colorado and had time and space
to think. She became a physical therapist there and says she is
happier than she’s ever been.
As far as lesbians in soccer generally, Kelly said, “There will
be lesbians on any team, just like in any classroom. And we don’t
all look butch, either. In fact, our soccer team was so well-rounded,
good-looking, and ‘feminine,’ no one could believe we won
a national championship!”
* * * * *
Mark McGrath came out at the private Dwight-Englewood School in New
Jersey soon after the team he helped coach won the county championship. “I
was teaching (history and law) and coaching well, and kids were responding
to that,” he said. “I had success and the support of
my peers.” Head coach Chris Schmid—“a stout,
macho German,” Mark called him—was particularly accepting.
His players had no inkling he was gay. After his announcement,
no one changed for the worst; in fact, Mark found that some sought him
out more, to discuss personal issues. A few players even joined
a gay and straight student alliance group he helped form.
He knows that not all schools are like Dwight-Englewood, and he knows
from comments he hears that homophobia does exist in soccer. However,
he said, “I give soccer people a lot of credit for being more open
than other sports. Soccer lends itself to acceptance. It’s
a team game, in which players have to rely on each other. It’s
a game in which players teach themselves—and people who think on
their own tend to be able to analyze situations objectively. It’s
an international game, and generally homophobia is less rampant overseas
than it is here. It’s a game in which people are free to
be who they are.”
His final thought: “When I went to the coaches’ convention,
no matter what city it was in, I never failed to see other coaches at
the local gay bar.”
* * * * *
One of those coaches then addressed the Washington workshop. He
was active in the Gay Games, and is an officer in the International Lesbian
and Gay Football (Soccer) Organization, but he spoke honestly—and
with a bit of trepidation—of the reasons he was not out on his
campus. He is not ready, he said, to confront his homophobic athletic
director, nor does he know how his players would react. He does
regret, however, not being able to help—as a role model or simply
an adviser—the players he suspects are gay.
* * * * *
There were many questions after our presentation. One man said, “I
coach at the high school level. Doesn’t a girl going on to
college have the right not to play for a lesbian coach, and not to play
with lesbian teammates?”
“Let’s turn that question around,” I said. “Would
you get up in a meeting like this and say, ‘Doesn’t a girl
have the right not to play for a black coach, or with Hispanic teammates?’
“Furthermore, what happens if she chooses a college because (she
thinks) the coach is not a lesbian, and there are no lesbian players. When
she graduates and gets a job, chances are she’ll have lesbian co-workers—maybe
even a lesbian boss. How is she going to be able to get along with
them if she hasn’t learned those lessons earlier?
“The issue is not whether she has the right to play with lesbian
teammates, or for a lesbian coach, but why that’s a problem for
her,” I concluded.
The next questions came from an athletic director. “I understand
all that you’re saying,” he began, “but why do you
have to talk about it? Why can’t you just let it be?”
My answer was that the issue is there whether it’s talked about
or not, so it’s better to bring it into the open than to bury it. “If
you’ve got a player on your team who shuts himself off from his
teammates because he’s scared they’ll find out his secret,
you’re not going to have the best team possible,” I said. “And
if you’ve got something that is tearing the team apart, you’re
not going to be a very effective coach.”
Another man wondered about pedophilia. “I’m glad you
brought that up,” I replied. “I’m just as worried
as you are. I’m worried about the five percent of pedophilia
acts that are performed by gay men, and the 95 percent that are performed
by straight men—most of whom are married. I think we all
have to be concerned about every person who is coaching every boy and
girl.”
It was a good ending to a remarkable day. Several dozen coaches
had their eyes opened, their horizons broadened. There was plenty
of information presented, lots of honest give-and-take. My only
surprise was that no one approached me afterward and came out—as
either gay, or a Moonie.
Dan Woog of Westport, Conn. was the 1990 National Soccer Coaches Association
of America Boys Youth Coach of the Year. He is the author of Jocks: True
Stories of America’s Gay Male Athletes (Alyson Publications, 1998),
and the sequel, Jocks II: Coming Out to Play (Alyson Publications, 2002).
His website is www.danwoog.com and
his e-mail address is dwoog@optonline.net.
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