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.
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