March 09--When I first heard about Ohio State cornerback Eli Apple's experience at the NFL scouting combine, I couldn't help but laugh.
Apple claimed that during an interview with the Falcons, the first question that came from one of the team's assistant coaches was, "Do you like men?"
As a 29-year-old gay man, I spent the better part of two decades agonizing over that question and finally, when I was 20, came to accept that the answer was "Yes." It took another two years before I could tell my family, another year after that before I mustered up the courage to tell my closest friends and, well, six years after that to finally write about it in the Chicago Tribune.
I spent years and a lot of sleepless nights before admitting to myself and others that I was gay. It was not an easy process.
For the record, Apple said he is not gay, but it never should have come to the point where he had to reveal anything about his sexuality. The NFL has taken some commendable action in working with organizations like the You Can Play Project, which provides resources to LGBTQ athletes and is working to change attitudes toward them in locker rooms across the country.
But the episode that played out at the combine during Apple's interview was disgraceful and illuminates just how far the NFL has to go before its culture embraces an openly gay player. It is still a league where being gay is seen as negative.
Apple said the assistant, Marquand Manuel, insinuated that in Atlanta there are a lot of gay men and Apple has to be OK with that.
Apple said: "(The assistant) was like, 'If you're going to come to Atlanta, sometimes that's how it is around here, you're going to have to get used to it."
According to the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Apple may not have been the only one asked this question.
If you read between the lines of the assistant's question, he is essentially saying, "Hey, if we pick you, you're going to live in Atlanta and you might be out somewhere and get hit on by a gay guy. You're OK with that, right? But you're also not going to go home with him, right?"
But whatever the assistant's intention, it's a remarkably awkward and obtuse way to begin a conversation.
(Confession: Sometimes I get asked "Do you like men?" but it never opens the dialogue. It usually comes a few minutes into a conversation with someone at a gay bar when they find out I write about sports -- like they are in disbelief a gay man really can have this job and they need to reaffirm my gay credentials.)
It's also a dangerous line of thinking. It is clear that the assistant thinks being gay is a negative thing, something he must guard against, and that associating with gay men is a fact of life in Atlanta, but it is something the assistant is telling players they must deal with, like it's a burden.
It is this kind of thinking that can lead to discrimination and even hate crimes against LGBTQ athletes. Just recently, high school football players in my home state of Pennsylvania were charged for their involvement in hazing a freshman on something called "No Gay Thursdays," a day in which the players on the team engage in inappropriate behavior, like placing genitals on each others' heads, according to the Associated Press. And on this particular day, when confronting a player they did not like, they decided to violate him with a broom handle as the player screamed in pain.
LGBTQ rights in this country have come a long way, but one of the final frontiers in that fight is for inclusion in sports, especially in the major pro sports leagues where less than a handful of athletes -- former NBA player Jason Collins and defensive lineman Michael Sam -- have donned a jersey as openly gay men even though statistics suggest there are several gay, bisexual or questioning men playing professional sports. Gay rights activists have fought to dismiss the stereotype that gay men are not considered masculine enough to play sports on a professional level.
So when the issue of whether or not a player is gay is treated with such nonchalance and insensitivity as the Falcons did with Apple, it illustrates just how far the NFL still has to go before diminishing this stereotype and making a gay athlete comfortable enough to come out and thrive with a team.
This is the same league in which Giants receiver Odell Beckham Jr. reportedly was hounded by gay slurs from opponents all last season in part because he likes to dance with his male friends in Instagram videos. Again, being gay -- or even behaving in a way others deem gay -- still is viewed in a negative context in this league. I don't know if there's a magic solution that can rectify this.
I do people's attitude toward gay rights and accepting gay people in their lives increases when they get to know someone who's gay. So promoting an atmosphere in which one player is comfortable enough to stand up and come out can have positive reverberations throughout the league when others see there is nothing to fear or nothing negative about having a gay teammate.
It's already hard enough for a gay athlete to accept himself, and I had hope that after Sam came out such a sea change would come over the NFL and it gradually would open its arms to having gay players on the field.
But that day is still off in the distance.
chine@tribpub.com
