I don't have any gay friends. I don't really know too many gay men -- I mean, I may know a few gay men, but there could be some that are gay and I don't know that they're gay.
And, quite frankly, I don't care.
The same goes for pro athletes. Sure, it makes for sordid locker room humor and your typical tabloid rumoring. But I'll tell you what: If Michael Jordan came out and said he was gay in the midst of his prime, you think people would suddenly stop wanting to see him play? You think Jerry Krause would cut him from the Bulls and no NBA team would dare touch him? You think Big Chief Triangle would change his offense?
If teammates refused to accept a gay player, wouldn't that make a mockery of the "Diversity" programs these major leagues have? Wouldn't it make hypocrites out of those who celebrate Jackie Robinson's breakthrough and the appearance of Tony Dungy and Lovie Smith in the Super Bowl? These three men didn't do their thing just because they were black, they did it because they were good.
Eddy Curry said it best: "If one of my teammates came out and said that, I'd be supportive of him because those are my teammates. Those are the guys I went to war with night in and night out. Regardless of what he does off the court, we battle together."
Still, we won't know the truth until it happens.
John Amaechi's coming-out media party sparks the conversation, but what does it really say when it comes to how NBA players would tolerate a gay teammate? He came out after his career ended. I understand he probably kept it to himself out of fear (or maybe he didn't fully accept it yet), but we won't really know how a gay athlete will be accepted in major pro sports until one emerges. Up to now, only women -- LPGA, WTA and WNBA -- have had the courage to be who they are in the public eye. For men, I can only imagine how scary it can be to live the lie.
But when it does happen, once audiences, players and, of course, the media get over the expected uproar, innuendo and pontificating (uh, like I'm doing here), once the game starts the only thing that will matter again is the final score. And if the dude can help your team win.
He's queer. You cheer. Get over it.
But maybe we'll only accept a homosexual male athlete if he's flamboyant and entertaining, like Dennis Rodman. Like tthose dudes from the "Queer Eye" show, which you know you watched. You know you were curious.
Maybe a few of you became metrosexual. Look around the diamond-studded, fashion-savvy NBA and tell me the league isn't loaded with metros. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
From South Park:
Skeeter: Just because a guy cares about how he looks and is in touch with his feminine side doesn't mean he's gay anymore.
Stuart: Yeah. Metrosexual means you're straight, but you appreciate the gay culture.
Randy: It's super-fabulous. Would you like some shirazz?