On
the day that the column (“Sports world
still
a struggle for gays”) in which I came out of the closet
was set to appear on the front page
of ESPN.com,
two of my closest work friends
took me to lunch.
“This
could well be the Last Supper,” I quipped, as we
went through all of the possibilities
of what
might be the response to the
article. Truthfully, none
of us had any idea what would
occur. To my knowledge,
no sports editor had ever come
out in such a
public forum, especially at ESPN, “The Worldwide
Leader In Sports,” as well as the home of More
Testosterone Than One Building
Can Handle.
My
editor, no doubt still shocked at my audacity
for writing the column, had prepared
me for the
worst. “There will be hate mail, there will be prank
phone calls, ” he told me. “You may face physical
violence.”
I
had pondered the possible repercussions and
had told him I wanted to go forward
with it. “All I
ask is that you guys stand beside
me, and if anyone
touches my person, I expect your
full support,” I
told him. I meant it. Violence
was my sole fear.
Talk
about much ado about nothing. The torrent
of e-mails and phone calls commenced
while I
was at lunch, as the link to
my article had made its
debut as part of a package on
gays in sports. I
received literally hundreds of
notes and calls — the
vast majority expressing praise,
congratulations and
surprise from co-workers.
Apparently,
my mates at ESPN and ESPN.com
did not know I was gay. A few
colleagues voiced
confusion and ignorance on the
issue, saying they
did not understand it, but nonetheless
welcomed my
honesty and courage. Not one
note or call — not
even an anonymous one — wished
me harm.
My
favorite response was from my co-worker
and buddy Joe, who wrote, and
I paraphrase, “Good
job. That took some major balls,
my friend. Now to
important stuff: Do you want
to trade me Jose Mesa
or not?” (The question referred to a rotisserie baseball
trade.) It summed up the immediate
response at
ESPN: You’re one of us, you did the right thing, it’s
fine.
How did I get so lucky to receive
such an overwhelmingly
positive response?
I wish I could tell those of
you who still want
to come out, I wish I could
direct you. Some of it, I
suppose, was luck; I work in
an office that might be
conservative in some senses,
but in which honesty
and courage are considered
praiseworthy qualities.
Perhaps some of it had to do
with the setup, that in
two years at the company I
had avoided lying as
much as humanly possible.
There
was only one person in the entire company
that day who might have felt
deceived (and
that was only because he had
badgered me for
months about who I was dating
until I finally gave
in and turned “Richard” into “Rachel”).
Perhaps
because I tend to blend in and
hadn’t made a lot of
waves in two years, my request
to be heard and
accepted for who I truly am was
granted.
Nearly
eight months later, things are still good.
My sexuality is rarely discussed,
and sometimes I
wish people were more comfortable
discussing that
aspect of my life. But socially
and professionally the
newsroom is surprisingly comfortable
for me as a gay
man. I’ve inherited the role of “Designated Homo,” the
go-to guy when any gay issue comes
up. My feelings about that are
mixed: It feels good to stand up
for something I believe in, and
yet it feels totally
forced. I don’t like to feel like I have an agenda.
Still, I make it a point to tell
people what I think
about issues or offer guidance
when that feels
appropriate. Sometimes I worry
that my frankness
may hinder my career in the long
run, but I simply
don ’t know that yet.
The
sports media closet remains overcrowded.
I wait for the day when any of
my colleagues decide
to join me. It wasn’t easy getting here — it took
years to do it — but I am proud to stand as ESPN’s
token gay guy. At this point,
I wouldn’t change a
thing about my decision to come
out.
