Naked Came I

Corey Johnson came out of the closet in 2000.

He was co-captain of his high school football team.

The handsome, muscular, sweet 5'8" tackle was also bright and committed to social justice. After graduating, Johnson spoke at the 2000 Millennium March on Washington. He attended George Washington University in D.C.

Hating D.C. (no surprise there), Johnson went to live in New York City. He's working on Mark Green's Democratic campaign for attorney general. He also hosts a daily talk show on Sirius Satellite Radio.

I mention Corey Johnson because I got an email a few days ago from another gay high school football player.

Over the years, I've managed to talk to several gay football players. Some in high school, some in college, a few pros (mostly Arena League). I knew a number of gay and bi football players in college, on my team as well as playing for other schools.

Most of them tell horror stories. Having to participate in beating up suspected gay kids in school to cover up their own homosexuality. Forced to have sex with homophobic bullies as "punishment" for being gay. Terrible isolation and extreme loneliness. Alcohol abuse to numb the emotional pain. One-night-stands with hookers, or with other players while on road-trips, or with other students in parks or under grandstands. No dating, no coming out, no self-acceptance.

Idolization of football players is almost de rigeur in high school and college. But these guys got none of it. They couldn't handle the girls dangling their tits in from of them. And they couldn't reach out to the guys who they so desperately wanted.

Several years ago, a muscle-bound, handsome redhead football player from a private college in the Pacific Northwest emailed me a nude of himself. You could have knocked me over with a feather. Hung like a whale. Gorgeous face. Sweet smile. Blue eyes. Great skin. Awesome body.

He practically whimpered and asked if he were "all-right looking."

It's not football that takes a toll on these guys. It's the closet. It destroys them.


I mention all this because a gay friend of mine surprised me and asked me if I still liked playing football.

"With who?" I asked in reply.

"You know, with gay guys," he said.

I laughed. I told him that I don't know of a single gay man who plays football. Not one. Not in my entire 17 years in D.C. have I ever met a gay man even remotely interested in playing football. I've met women who want to play American football. I've met plenty of lesbians who put on the flags and play flag-football. I've met plenty of lesbians who even put on helmet and pads and knock heads with the best of them.

But not a single gay man.

My friend expressed confusion over that.

But I asked him: How many gay men do you know that even watch football? College or pro?

None, he admitted.

How many gay men do you know, I asked, who have traded naked pictures of men dressed in football gear?

Oh lots, he said.

That, I replied bitterly, was typical. Gay men like the gear. They don't like what it represents or the men wearing it. None of the super-model porn stars wearing those shoulder pads with the black under their eyes would be caught dead touching a football, I said. To them, "down" is the fuzz on their 18-year-old boyfriend's upper lip and "pigskin" is what their Gaultier wallet is made of.

Corey Johnson lives in Chelsea among the gay glitterati. He hates D.C. He's given up on sport.