Discourse - The Journal of Gay Athletes
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Ivy League Lacrosse
Homosexuality, Homophobia, and Soccer
A Lifetime in Skiing
College Running in the 1980s
The State of College Sports
The Silence in a Sport: Being a Student-Athlete and Being Gay at Washington College
Homosexuality, Homophobia, and Soccer
Dan Woog

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.


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