Athletes Outpost - The Blog for the Invisible Athlete

Escape the Judgment

By Lyndsey Seewald for GForce Sports

I was humbled reading a previous post by Michael on his Nazi prison camp experience; it’s interesting how one experience can change a life and its perspective.  Unfortunately, sometimes, homosexuals or people that are considered ‘different’ in this world are wearing that pink triangle. 

To put a flip to that post, I must say I find myself putting the pink triangle on myself some days.  I walk into a restaurant with my girlfriend and right as that first person stares at me, I throw on my pink triangle. As I have stated in previous posts, I am the stereotypical lesbian.  Although I have been out for five years now, I still feel that I am being judged in situations when perhaps I am not. 

That judgment is never guaranteed when I go somewhere, but I miss the one place that I knew it did not matter how I looked or who I was with: the basketball court. 

I miss that feeling of respect regardless of my outside life. I stepped on that court and it was all business: my defense, offense, leadership, and willingness to give every ounce of my mental and physical being to the game of basketball.  If I were able to show those things, no one would have anything on me except for, “Well, there is your typical lesbian, good at the game of basketball.” 

To which I would respond, “Why, thank you.”

Those days are over now and I must admit the feeling is slowly disappearing as well.  For some, it is hard to come out when you are on a team or in athletics, but for others, like me, it was the only place where I did not feel judged. 

There is a certain something about playing sports.  Even after spending the last year learning about sport and performance psychology, I have yet to discover that ‘something’ about it.  Although I may look for it—due to my choice in my masters degree—I hope to never find that ‘something’. 

For those homosexuals or people that feel ‘different’ in society—for those of you who feel that the gym floor, the field, the rink, the course—is your place to shine, continue to embrace those free moments. Those moments where no one in the world can touch you with his or her hate, or where those with disagreements on the way you live your life do not matter. Those moments where you feel that your sexuality does NOT play a role because you are good at what you do.

Let the world see that what you have to offer is not your sexuality, but your skills, your abilities, and the knowledge you have for your game. And when you step off the floor, remember that life is not about the pink triangle and who is wearing it, but rather life is about the feeling of being free and escaping the judgment.      

Editors note: GForce Sports offers resources for the invisble athlete—those athletes who are struggling with there sexuality or just need some information. Go to this LINK to connect with GForce.

One Day in July

By Michael A. Smith for GForce Sports

Seventy years ago a man stood on a field. It was probably bigger than a regulation soccer field and it was covered entirely in white gravel.

The man was not alone. His “team” at the time was all around him. 13,000 strong. If he reached out an arm in any direction, he could pat a teammate on the head.

Their uniforms were all identical. Gray, probably cotton, with dark vertical stripes. Their heads were shaved, their feet were wedged into ill-fitting leather shoes and they stood at attention like the ranks of some forgotten army.

The man does not have a name because one does not have names in this place. His uniform bore no number or team logo. There were no pads, no helmet, no cleats. No protection of any kind. The sameness of the men on that field was broken by one simple symbol on the chest: a yellow Star of David for most; for some, a pink triangle.

The year was 1942 and they were standing on the parade ground of the Dachau Concentration Camp.

Times have changed since then. The Jewish people have embraced these horrors and grown through them. Museums stand testament to the events and the German government acknowledges its complicity. Their Jewish faith continues to be strong.

So, too, the LGBT population. The pink triangle has been embraced as a defiant symbol of the movement. Pride events trumpet our strength and diversity and inroads in civil rights have spurred far-ranging conversations that include gay marriage, adoption by LGBT parents and gender-identity issues. Even LGBT athletes benefit from the gay pride movement that grew from Stonewall. The You Can Play Project, Athlete Ally and projects at GLSEN reflect this change.

Times have surely changed . . . or so I thought.

Enter Charles L. Worley, pastor at Providence Road Baptist Church in Maiden, N.C. and not a friend of LGBT people. A “man of God,” Mr. Worley seems to believe that the Nazis had a good idea. We should round up the gays and lesbians and put them behind an electrified fence. And leave them to die. He allows for the dropping of food from helicopters but doesn’t explain this act of beneficence any further. Would there be fuel to cook it? Plates and forks with which to eat it? Heck, even the Nazis provided bowls for their gruel.

Some of his flock actually agrees with him. The blind apparently do lead the blind.

I have stood on that gravel field in Dachau. It was a scorching hot day in July; the kind of day that melts your forehead and wilts your resolve to move. There were no trees, and no respite from the heat.

Sometimes a man benefits from standing in the shoes of those who have walked before him. Frank and I toured the barracks and watched lovely families snapping pictures of their kids by the rows of empty bunks – beds that once held 8-10 people each. We saw the showers where Jew and Catholic, gypsy and handicapped – and the gay ones – were gassed and the ovens where the dead burned.

I read the displays. I read about the 60% mortality rate of MY people, the homosexuals; how the gays were the lowest life form in the camp, persecuted by everyone else. And I read how, even as the camps were liberated, the gays were moved to prisons because they were STILL considered deviants.

A non-gay survivor shines a harsh light on the experience: "I saw quite a number of pink triangles. I don't know how they were eventually killed . . . one day, they were simply gone."

This appears to be Rev. Worley’s vision. And this is what passes for a “man of God” these days? I’m left to wonder what Hitler would think of such Southern Baptists. He arrested Jews, Roman Catholics, Jehovah Witnesses and anyone else who he considered counter to the “ideal race.” Would such bible thumping be tolerated, or would they be considered asocial and carted away?

I made it through about a third of the museum and to the parade ground before my urge to flee overpowered me. Even in the clear light of that July day, the evil of the place screamed at me.  The ghosts of 100,000 dead bumped into me as I walked. It took a good Bavarian beer and distance from that place before I could even speak.

I stood on a field. My teammate – my partner of twenty years – was beside me. Our uniforms didn’t match but it didn’t matter because we were able to walk off that field and continue our life together. Our pink triangles are invisible, but they are there. And every time someone wants to put a fence around me, it burns as hot as a day in July.

Rev. Worley, I can say one thing to you with absolute certainty . . . you know not of which you speak.

A Lesson from the Hunger Games

By Michael Smith for GForce Sports

I’m currently reading Catching Fire, the second of the Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins. I’ve decided that President Snow, leader of fictitious Panem, is the biggest bully ever. The king of all bullies. An uber-bully if you will.

I experienced bullies. I was fortunate not to have to deal with them in high school or even junior high, but grade school? Yeah, they were there. I didn’t identify as gay at the time (though, ironically, they all figured it out) but that didn’t matter. I was vulnerable. Broken home, mom that worked out of town. A latchkey kid before they had a word for it.

It was always on the walk home. Yeah, we walked. Not a mile each way, uphill both ways (THAT was high school) but still walking. I crept out of the playground and past “those woods” where the kids who didn’t like me hung out. Often, maybe once a week, I made a mad dash to my house six blocks away to save myself.

Those were the halcyon days of bullying: no tweeting, no texting. Just the bully’s fists and speedy feet to escape them.

Today? Just pick a target and ATTACK! Choose your weapon. Facebook? Post any lie you want. Twitter? Innuendo in 140 characters or less. Persecute their resume on LinkedIn. Why ostracize them in person when you can do it anonymously? Courage is not a bully’s stock in trade after all. Of course fists, boots, graffiti, automobiles, computers and cell phones are all in the arsenal as well — as are teachers, other students, religious leaders, school boards and parents.

The above weapons are (usually) used just to hurt (or maim) both physically and emotionally. To President Snow’s credit, he makes no bones about wanting to kill you in the most gruesome way possible. Come to think of it, the bullies may have one-upped even President Snow on that one: they want you dead, but they want you to do the act yourself.

Sometimes, the victims fight back. Like that kid in Australia; he had enough and body-slammed his tormentor onto a concrete sidewalk. Or the mother who gave her son a taser so he could protect himself. I fought back once (or tried to). I had the bully’s shirt in one fist and my other fist cocked back to smash his face; a neighborhood mom broke it up. Today? You’d have to pull me off the a-hole.

I don’t want to encourage violence. There’s plenty of that already. But if it was MY kid? You bet. Self defense classes, pepper spray, lawsuits, police . . . whatever it took. Mortgage the house to sue their parents? Flash mob the school board meeting? Hire a hood to protect him? Yup. All of it.

But here’s the question: while school boards and teachers and parents debate whether bullying is a problem – or argue whether or not students can or should be protected – what about the reason students are in schools in the first place?

Don’t school boards and teachers and parents exist to teach?

So what lessons are we learning? Well, when a principal says, “If you wear female apparel, then kids are kids and they’re going to say whatever it is that they want to say,” then I guess the lesson is you can bully that kid. Aren’t words just short of spit wads, knocking books from his hands, tripping him, and painting graffiti on his locker? And if the words are okay — and if “kids are kids” and hound him on Twitter and Facebook and YouTube — that’s okay too? And when the kid’s self-worth is non-existent and he leaps off an overpass, I guess the lesson is . . . maybe words have more impact than we think they do.

Here are some words for that principal (and those school boards and teachers and parents): RESPECT, DECENCY, COMPASSION, TOLERANCE.

If President Snow stepped out of Suzanne Collins’ books into this world, he might like what he sees. In fact, he’d probably move all “the gays” to a District 14 so he would be assured of both a gay child and a lesbian child in every Hunger Games. Then we could see them fight and die on live television rather than just hearing about it on Twitter. Or Facebook. Or YouTube.

Maybe that’s the lesson here. Turn off the devices and open our ears. Listen to each other and then listen to our hearts. Forget religious zealotry, forget school board rules: Will bullying EVER—under ANY circumstances for ANY person—be a good thing?

Or will we just continue to push our kids toward school with the admonition, “May the odds ever be in your favor.”

Editors note: Josh Hutcherson, who plays Peeta in The Hunger Games trilogy, is a straight ally to the LGBT community. He is very involved with the Straight But Not Narrow organization that “works to positively impact the way teens view and treat their LGBT peers.” Take a look at this video of Josh explaining the program.

GForce Sports supports any organization that brings the LGBT community together with its straight allies to fight discrimination and intolerance.

Down Time, Not Time Out

By Nick Clark for GForce Sports

Down time kills me. Although I am at the end of my first season, there isn’t a whole lot going on. We wrapped up the regular season championship and will soon begin the conference tournament.

I guess the down time I’m referring to is my own involvement in LGBT rights. I haven’t blogged or written anything in over 2 months and it has felt much longer than that. I sometimes feel like I’m not doing my part to help make things better.

I have really connected with two recent events due to the familiarity of them. The first one being the young man out of Queen’s University in Canada. Bryan Fautley just finished his volleyball career there this year. I immediately connected to this article because it is about a male volleyball player. Bryan wasn’t out when he first began his playing career because he “knew” that sport and homosexuality don’t coexist. He was so bothered by being in the closet and experiencing the type of homophobic language being used that he left the team. The story works out in the end with Bryan returning to the team. He was even able to see first hand the change he helped create because there was an out freshman on the team during his final year.

The other event just happened recently. New York University athletics created an “It Gets Better” video. The video showcases many, if not all, teams and different coaches and administrators. This moved me. The charge was lead by Jay Hayes, who is the captain of the men’s volleyball team at NYU. He is also gay. Jay simply wanted to do something that was going to be beneficial to society.

It is nice to keep reading so many different articles from all over the world. It means that people are beginning to accept themselves more and more. The taboo of being gay in sports is becoming a thing of the past. It has also been great seeing the NHL take part in the You Can Play Project. I love seeing this because I grew up watching the Detroit Red Wings and the NHL is close to my heart. The Red Wings have yet to take part in it…maybe I should call Mr. Illitch…

I recently had a brief conversation with some other assistant coaches about the use of homophobic slurs. I explained to them that they don’t have a place in society. It made me feel good. The other coaches seemed to be receptive. I’m not sure if things have changed for their respective teams but the conversation happened and hopefully it stays with them the next time they go to use a homophobic slur in the heat of the moment.

I have my own personal goal to continue to speak out for equality, specifically in sports. I think it bothers me so much that I haven’t written anything or physically contributed because it is something that I hold very close to my heart. It is important to me to make athletics a safe place for LGBT people.

Change is happening. We are in the midst of it. Acceptance is happening internationally, nationally, and locally. More and more people are beginning to see that sexual orientation has no bearing on whether or not you can play sports. Most importantly, more and more people are beginning to understand that there is nothing wrong with being gay.

Editor's note: For more stories about LGBT athletes, go to this LINK at GForce Sports.

Bunny Ears for Bubba

By Michael A. Smith for GForce Sports

So, I spent last Sunday relaxing; that’s Easter Sunday for those of you who keep track. I don’t relax very often. I will admit that my relaxing was, in large part, more of a recovery. Two friends stopped for dinner the night before and I was a bit over-served. Okay, we were having a great visit and I partook of one too many brown beverages: whiskey, scotch, Bourbon. Mental note: next Easter the brown of choice will be either milk or dark, and maybe have ears on it.

Anyway, I lazed on the sofa, admiring the green greens and blue sky of Augusta National: the azaleas (dead already due to the early spring); the Hogan Bridge at Amen Corner; the fantastically Southern lily-white clubhouse. And am I the only person who gapes at the eerie 20,000-person silence when someone’s putting? Seriously, I heard the crickets, the blue jays . . . heck, someone pulled a Kleenex  from their pocket and got a dirty look. And I’ve said it before: do they give these young golfers Nordic-Flex machines with their Tour Cards? Adorable Louis Oosthuizen (he of albatross fame) was but one of the chesty prospects that walked the Old Course. But I digress.

Here’s a question: when did they start showing major sports events on holidays? Okay, it’s a really dumb question. Football on Thanksgiving and Christmas, baseball playoffs on Yom Kippur, the Stanley Cup finals on Independence Day . . . well, maybe not YET but give them time. Perhaps holidays are the best time for sporting events. Families are together, work has been put aside; heck, even the e-mail is being ignored (maybe? just one day?).

I found myself sitting there, nursing a headache and thinking about what Easter used to be for me. We’d get the Paas egg dye and dip eggs. Mom would make us each a basket of goodies and hide it (fudge eggs for me, Peeps for my brothers, and always a solid dark chocolate bunny whose ears were on notice after breakfast). Sunday morning would be Catholic Mass complete with lilies and incense; the afternoon would bring a glazed ham, yams, Jello salad and decadent pie on fine china and silver. We’d play games, eat jellybeans and laugh. Summer was around the corner.

This year? No Mass. No chocolate bunnies or dyed eggs. No Easter lily. A ham steak and sweet potato shared with Frank. Too big a headache for a bottle of wine. Frank worked on his Sunbeam Alpine all day and was in heaven. He said it was fine, and I guess it was. But then I said these seven terrible words: “Easter isn’t a holiday for us anyway.” And I felt empty.

Us? In God’s name, whom was I talking about? But I knew and so do you: us, the gays.

What brought me to this place? As a gay man I certainly have no love for Catholic dogma anymore, but up until a couple of years ago I went to Mass every Easter. Even if it was just to meditate on the day and the spring — to smell the incense and see the lilies — it was a milestone, a marker of sorts. Spring is here; summer is coming.

Is this one of the unwanted side effects of being gay? And am I alone in this? Surely there are Jews who question Yom Kippur and Muslims who have turned from Ramadan. Surely these people, gay or straight, had vibrant traditions that they turned away from. I’ve thrown aside so many traditions and, frankly, I miss them. Maybe it’s time to look at those traditions and mold them to my life as an out, happily partnered gay man.

Look at Bubba Watson, the 2012 Masters Champion. He worked on Easter — albeit as a professional golfer who works every Sunday — while his wife and new baby watched at home. Is that his tradition? Perhaps he eats the ears off his chocolate rabbit on Tuesday, or just celebrates whatever he can whenever he can. He may have had a childhood of Paas egg dye and cellophane grass in baskets too, but he needed to adapt. He needed to change. And change is a good thing, isn’t it?

Being gay makes me different and often makes me FEEL different. But it also makes me complacent. I skip Mass because it isn’t speaking to me. Contraception, abortion, gay marriage, female priests . . . it’s all just so much talk and hyperbole that clouds why I used to go to Mass in the first place: to sing, to meditate, to think — to be thankful. I skip the Easter lilies because they’re going to die anyway and skip Gayle’s Chocolates because I’m on a diet. Brunch with friends becomes a dry ham steak and sad sweet potato. And Easter — all holidays — becomes a pale shadow of my childhood traditions.

Fight the complacency. Fight. It.

When you think it’s “not for you” . . . that thing you used to do when you were in the closet — be it a family tradition or playing a sport or talking to a friend — DO IT ANYWAY! And do it huge, proudly, with your own flair. Make going to church or synagogue YOURS, for YOUR reasons. Play hockey or softball or golf with wild abandon and without the need for any stamp of approval. Call that friend or relative who has slipped away because of “who you think they think you are” and demand they have lunch with you because, damn it, you have things to say.

For me, next Easter will include a personal, contemplative Mass; a GIANT dark chocolate bunny (Gayle’s has one that’s four feet tall); and a friggin’ four-course champagne brunch at The Whitney. And if Bubba Watson sees fit to make a run at his second green jacket that day, maybe I’ll join in on that tradition as well.

Perception is not the new reality

By Lyndsey Seewald for GForce Sports

My last post discussed my plans for a concert benefit that I am trying to organize back home this summer. A quick update: I am talking to two LGBT centers and hopefully we can work out a plan. I realize now why people don’t take the time to do such wonderful events — they are a lot of work and require precise attention to detail. But I will not give up — this is on my bucket list.

I recently read Mike’s blog post and was in awe of the words he possesses. I even had a moment where I wondered why such a writer would ask an amateur like me to write on this blog. Then I realized that he wanted Athletes OutPost to be filled with different perspectives and opinions.

So I asked myself: what perspective can I bring to this post? What unique topic or point-of-view can I bring to the table to get readers intrigued by my message? And as I was thinking of the perspective I was going to take, I thought . . . maybe I should talk about just that: perspective.

According to dictionary.com, one of the definitions of perspective is: “the state of one’s ideas, the facts known to one, etc., in having a meaningful interrelationship.” Or to put it simply: the way one looks at something or someone. As Mike stated in his last post, one owner or coach could turn down a talented hockey player just because of his sexuality. On the other hand, another coach could accept a talented athlete regardless of the kid’s sexuality. This is a great example of different perspectives. Another you may recognize involves the government and its decisions about passing — or passing over — gay marriage rights. Still another issue with different points-of-view debates the reasons why there are more men holding power positions in the NCAA than women. There are two — or more — sides of every issue, and many more ways to look at them. Perspective is everywhere.

I think perception is the reason why LGBT athletes are afraid to come out to their teammates and coaches. Some perceptions that come with same-sex attraction include repulsion, pity, levels of tolerance, that it’s a choice — the list goes on. Now, I have a question for you . . . a trick question if you will: how do these perspectives from?

Think about it . . .

You got this . . .

Drum roll please. The answer is . . . from the perceptions of OTHERS.

Repulsion, pity, tolerance or lack of it, and the idea that LGBT people choose to be gay are not based in fact. They are not in a book, or about to be published in an empirical journal article or peer-reviewed paper. Those ideas — those negative points-of-view about the LGBT community — come from OTHER PEOPLE.

Sure, you could argue that there are some really stereotypical LGBTs out there who increase those negative perspectives. Well, before you play devil’s advocate, I suggest you save your breath. If you perceive a person to be flighty or effeminate or butch or pushy or whatever stereotype you want to use, that perspective doesn’t represent the entire LGBT community. That is just one individual and your perspective OF that individual.

So, before you go and judge someone differently when you find out they are gay or a lesbian — before you perceive them as different — realize that is not a characteristic or a personality trait or even a defining feature of that individual. Rather, perceive them as a human being FIRST and then form your future perceptions as you learn about them.

And if you’re thinking what other people say or think or perceive reflects on you, then be an exception to their perception. Be you and only you — a bright, gifted, beautiful, giving INDIVIDUAL.

Rah Team Fight

By Michael Smith for GForce Sports

Pound his face in! Go, go, go, go! Kill him! Yeah!

So, let’s play some audio “Where’s Waldo.” Picture a 30-year-old guy saying the above invective. Where is he? Perhaps he’s a fan boy at a premiere for The Hunger Games? No, moviegoers are more likely to be talking loudly on cell phones and saying things like, “And Rihanna did what, girlfriend?” How about a boxing match? Yeah, I can see that. And probably appropriate too given the bet he has riding at MGM. Maybe at a football game? Sure. The center probably has those very words running through his head before the snap. A hockey game? Absolutely.

Actually, it’s probably all of the above except “A”. When have you NOT gone to a sporting event and heard something along those lines? You know who this is. At a hockey game, he’s in row one in a Bob Probert jersey – a liter cup of Molson in hand – pounding on the glass with Nick Lidstrom on the other side thinking, “Buddy, give it a rest.” At a football game, he’s pounding kielbasa and sauerkraut (and the back of his best bud Stosh) as he bellows the team fight-song and ogles the cheerleaders. Boxing? Who knows what they’re eating but the blood and invective are the same.

These creatures are a fixture in the arena and stadium, a species born to live in that environment. We all know them by a not quite four-letter word:

The FAN.

I’ll admit it. I’ve been one too, mostly at Michigan State football and Red Wing hockey games. And there were the brief college years at Western Michigan in the 80s when the only teams with a winning record were men’s hockey and women’s volleyball. No joke, my first college athletic experience was an NCAA quarterfinal women’s volleyball game between WMU and Nebraska. WMU won and it was pandemonium. And, yes, I was in row one for men’s hockey, pounding the glass and Jim Culhane was probably on the other side of the glass thinking, “Jesus, give it a rest.” What can I say? It was fun. It was exciting. And Jim was cute.

What is it that makes a person a fan?  Think about the septuagenarians who drive their green and white Prevost bus to the Michigan State campus every football Saturday; or the autoworker wearing a Styrofoam wedge of cheddar and a Farve jersey to a Packers game; or the perky blonde in the PGA polo with a fake tattoo of Tiger Woods on her cheek – okay, she may be more than a fan given his history – but, you see my point. What’s gotten into these people?

Some fans are obviously alumni of a given school or university. But look at, say, a Miami University hockey game. Some of those fans are eleven or twelve; some are, perhaps, aspiring players but others are just rabid spectators pounding on the glass. Unless they’re Doogie Howser, they’re not alumni. Maybe that’s one answer; fans aspire to be like the athletes they follow.

What about pro team fans? Well, there’s the obvious civic pride. Look at what the Detroit Red Wings have done for their city. It’s rechristened Hockeytown for a reason, and who wouldn’t want to get behind that? But the Red Wing diaspora stretches across North America so being a fan is more than geographic; there is an emotional connection between fan and team. Evidence? Look at a fan’s tears when their team loses and their exuberance after a big win.

Sports teams offer us a means of escape as well, a way to put aside the troubles of our lives and focus on something else. Or even BE someone else. Every team seems to have some oddball fan in the stands: the guy painted blue with a cape, or the old man leading Take Me Out to the Ball Game and waving his MLB regulation pennant. So it’s a chance to step outside yourself for a while (and be a Cheesehead while doing it).

Fans comprise ALL these things, and the LGBT fan perhaps even more so. We aspire to be great, to emulate heroic people. We embrace where we live – our families, our homes, our cities – and strive to make them better, and we hold on to those attachments even as others try to strip them away. And escape? Yeah, there are times we want to escape our lives and all the crap that’s dumped onto us. We’re only human.

Eh? Human? You mean like, straight people? Could it be we’ve discovered something that both LGBT and straight people share? A love of team? A commitment to winning?

Yes, LGBT folks connect to sports teams too. So the next time you see a Cheesehead, or a guy painted blue with a cape, or a gal yelling, “Hey ref? Are ya BLIND?” – he or she may be a gay fan. And the guy pounding on the glass with his best buddy Stosh? He may snuggle with Stosh every evening.

You Can Play: A Primer for the Uninitiated

By Michael Smith for GForce Sports

On March 3, GForce Sports moved the ball (puck?) forward in its fight to advocate for gay athletes with the initiation of the You Can Play Project. In short, it brings together both gay and straight athletes to speak out on behalf of athletes who feel trapped by belief, the color of their skin, casual homophobia in the locker room, or whom they love when they leave the playing field. The message is simple: If you can play, you can play.

I don’t play. No joke, I’ve never played an organized sport. I swam at the campus rec building. I currently lift some weights and climb a Stairmaster. And once, ages ago, I played tackle football on a muddy field and was nearly crushed by a former high school running back who HAD played — big time. I tackled the bastard, but paid for it. So I don’t play. Never have. And never will?

Well, never is a long time. Since I’ve been hanging out with the GForce hockey players I’ve found myself thinking: could I? At my age, could I actually learn a team sport AND be competitive? Obviously, I’ve been thinking ALL of the “what could have been” scenarios. We had a good high school hockey team and I have the build of a wrestler or maybe a swimmer. Yeah, I could have played those sports. And football . . . I love football so a receiver maybe, or a kicker? Maybe that could have worked.

So why didn’t I? Probably lots of reasons: no father figure in the house; no role models; zero money for equipment. And let’s be honest . . . shyness would have gotten the best of me. But if I had overcome all of those things, plus had the drive to succeed; and the talent to catch or throw or pin or swim; and the sheer will and audacity to do it, I bet I could have been good at some sport. Interesting thing about nearing fifty: there are a lot of things you just can’t do anymore (and I know what you’re thinking . . . that’s not one of them). I mean things like becoming an astronaut, or a GQ model or a sports star. How many of those dreams start at fifty?

But let’s say for grins that I’m seventeen and I play hockey. Top physical condition, great dexterity, tremendous slap shot, nice touch around the goal: the whole package. I even look sharp in the P. R. photos. Good enough for the OHL. Maybe, the NCAA. Oh, and I’m gay.

Oooooooooo, no. No, we don’t think we can do that on our team. Awesome power play, you say? Cool, but . . . killer on defense? Yeah, okay, but . . . a fighter? Seriously? A gay enforcer? Right. No thanks. Look, we’re impressed with the package but what about the other guys? The showers? The locker room? They might be uncomfortable. And on the ice, well, the other team might hassle you to take advantage, right? And that would, you know, cause trouble. Then there’s the fans, and the potential P. R. problems and the press and what if you, you know, “like” a teammate? Then there’s dating and emotions and potential drug problems and rehab and . . .

Whoa, really? You need to be gay to do all that?

And you’re telling me that you would take a talented hockey player and project ALL OF THAT S#!T on him because he’s gay? I thought you wanted to win. Oh, wait . . . you’d rather field a mediocre team. Middle of the road is your benchmark; the double yellow line that says, “Do Not Pass.” That guy, the best guy (the gay one), he can go to that other team if they’ll take him.

The Miami University Redhawks will take him in a heartbeat. “Yeah, you can play with us,” they’d say. “Oh, by the way, that’s our spot in the CCHA men’s hockey semi-finals. We wanted talent and we play to win. If losing works for you, go for it.” Rico Blasi, Miami’s coach, gets it and so does his team. They are winners. And success measures winners by talent and strength and endurance and heart  — not by how blond your hair is; or how white your skin is; or who you love when the game is over.

But the bible says . . . HEY! Shut that book for a moment and look into the eyes of that seventeen year old — that human being standing in front of you; the one to whom God gave all that talent. Deny him his chance at your peril.

I’ve seen LGBT athletes play. I’ve seen Coxie race a puck up the ice and Goldie run the length of a lacrosse field to score a goal. I’ve seen Lindsay drive the lane and Chris sink a long putt. You’ve seen them too; you just didn’t know their names.

If you can play, you can play. If — like me — you can’t play, then you can learn or just cheer the players on. And if you don’t want us to play, BITE IT! We’re going to play anyway. And we’ll play with winners.

Do the Math

By Erin Mays for GForce Sports

In my last post, I talked about what an important tool Facebook can be in driving engagement for charity sporting events and what I saw as a team co-captain for Ride for AIDS Chicago.

Aside from the ability to communicate important information and band together as a group, one of the most important things about Facebook and other forms of social media is what a powerful fundraising tool it can be.

A teammate of mine received her largest donation from someone she hadn’t seen in years but who was looking for a tax write-off and just happened to see her post.  Many of the in-person conversations with my friends that resulted in donations started out with them saying, “hey, I saw your post!” after I posted how far I rode that day as part of my training.  Other donations came when my friends shared my status updates with their friends – I had people I didn’t even know sponsoring me.

Let’s do a little math problem.  I have about 400 friends on Facebook, but let’s say only 50 of them are true prospects, and I get an average donation of $25 each – I’ve already surpassed my RFAC minimum of $1,000.  But, let’s say of those 50, a dozen love me enough that they would share my status updates once in a while with their own networks.  The 12 I think would be most likely to do this have a combined friend count of about 4,200, give or take.  Now, suppose just 1% of them, or 42, also each donated $25.  I’m at more than double my goal without doing anything other than shooting a quick message to my network saying, “hey, if the mood strikes you, would you share my RFAC posts or a link to my Events.org page on your Facebook page once in a while?”  This is an especially good idea if you have friends who tell you they can’t donate as much as they’d like – great trade-off.

For those of you who run events like Ride for AIDS or even those of you who want to be a better fundraiser, I highly recommend leveraging social media to your advantage – the beneficiaries of the funds raised for your event will thank you.

Editor's note: GForce Sports has a Facebook page with lots of friends. Spread the word about GForce and its programs by sending them to our website at www.gforcesports.org and encouraging them to donate. Or, as Erin says, encourage them to share the link. That's a trade-off we'll take!

The Motivation of LGBT Things

By Lyndsey Seewald for GForce Sports

Recently, I have been exposed to more LGBT ‘things’.  By ‘things’ I mean recent Facebook posts shared by friends about the LGBT timeline, conversations with my friends about the gay community and how they want to start making a difference. The other day, I was watching The Talk on CBS and they were talking about how a celebrity said she chose to be a lesbian. Even more recently, I saw President Obama stand up for a gay service man when a crowd began to boo him.  It has been a month of LGBT ‘things’ for me. 

I  believe that things happen for a reason — always have.  So naturally, I began to wonder if all of these videos, talk shows, and posts were trying to tell me something.  Is there something I could do to stand up for others in my community?  I felt like I was being called to help the LGBT people of this world but I had no idea where to start — where to go with these happenings. And I thought, “What the hell can one girl do to make a difference?”  This is actually the reason I wanted to write for this blog.  I was hoping that somewhere, someone that felt uncomfortable in THEIR skin would perhaps realize that who you are is nothing to be ashamed of. 

So, after brainstorming with a very close friend, I decided to run a concert benefit for a local LGBT church back home.  We’ll produce this event in part for LGBT people, but more importantly for the people who support the LGBT community. I want to celebrate who I am, rather than hide it.  I want to scream to the world that I am gay — and that I’m proud of it — and this was the closet way to do it (without actually screaming)☺.  So I thank all of those ‘things’ for popping into my life and leading me to this task.

So what is my point? It’s true that I’m just one girl out of billions of people, but I’m aiming to make a difference the way I know how.  It’s not that big a stretch to say that our world is corrupting slowly — sometimes, it feels like so many things are going wrong there is no point trying to do something to make it right.  But there is! And it starts with you! Yeah, that’s right, I said it . . . you — a gay human being or a transgender individual or even an LGBT ally. You have the choice to make a difference.  Perhaps not for the LGBT community. But here’s a thought: maybe, for one day, you should stop looking away from that person you drive past every morning — the one holding that ‘Anything helps’ sign. Maybe you should read for someone or volunteer a day for the local children’s hospital. 

I am not running this event to get recognition. Rather, I hope that someone will attend the event and get inspired to run their own benefit for a charity they are passionate about.  We spend so much time turning our backs on those that need us and facing those who, perhaps, don’t deserve so much time and effort.  So if you are struggling with finding someone who appreciates you for who you are, find someone or something that you can help.  I promise you, they will not judge you for being lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender. All they will care about is that you care about them.    

Editors note: There are many great organizations with which you can volunteer. Are you an LGBT athlete or ally? Consider helping us at GForce Sports!