You may have heard by now that David Testo, a former member of the Montreal Impact and Vancouver Whitecaps, has announced that he's gay. Chances are, your reaction falls into one of three camps: "So what?", "Who's David Testo?" or "Oh yeah, I kinda figured."
Indeed, as the CBC notes, "Testo's sexual orientation wasn't a secret to his family, friends, or even his teammates" -- surely, then, this is hardly surprising to some fans of his former teams. But even if you've never seen Testo play, or never had any intention of trying to sleep with him, this story has significance.
On The Footy Blog, Richard Whittall predicts that the announcement "could give courage to other gay players to come out", while over at 86 Forever, Ben Massey says that while closeted players are perfectly entitled to keep their privacy, if a player conceals their orientation "because he's not sure what the reaction to his sexuality would be, then that's a problem."
It's a problem that, hopefully, we can all help solve.
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While there will always exist some segment of the population unwavering in their view that homosexuality is abhorrent (in the same way there will always be racists, sexists,
Still, a professional sports club's locker room -- fuelled by testosterone and decades' worth of tacit codes of accepted behaviour -- isn't Main Street. The old cliche about there being "no 'I' in team" cuts to the heart of an attitude that the pathway to sporting success is paved with the subsumption of one's own character into the collective.
It's why superstar prima donnas are frowned upon, but it's also surely a motivating factor behind bit players constantly re-spouting those same cliches: "well, it was a team effort", "we did it as a team", "couldn't have done it without my teammates", on and on. It isn't merely a lack of creative verbal flair; it's an act of self-preservation. Setting oneself apart from the rest of the team, in whatever way, can get one noticed for the wrong reasons -- and for those without truly transcendent skills, such self-exclusion can be career-killing.
So an athlete deciding to come out of the closet isn't simply about going against the "macho" grain of pro sports (which is a problematic assertion in and of itself) or about prurient concerns about teammates "checking each other out" in various states of undress.
Statistically speaking, homosexuals are a small minority of the population, and thus also a small minority of any team's roster. So an athlete's decision to place themselves in that minority -- deciding to put an "I" in "team", essentially -- can be dangerous to their career for reasons that go beyond homophobia, whether real or perceived.
While Testo's announcement is gutsy, the fact that he's currently without a club removes fear of the sort of immediate alienation that could have taken place had this been in mid-season. But this shouldn't reduce the impact of what he's done, or diminish the positive role it can play going forward.
This announcement has given fans of pro sports yet another chance to galvanize around a common subject: to reinforce to the athletes themselves, and to the graying pundits and to the creaking infrastructure of sporting culture that surrounds them, that we really don't care.
That's right. We don't care. David, we wish your coming-out wasn't news. And one day, an athlete's sexual orientation will be as meaningless a piece of biographical trivia as their favourite movie. But before that day comes, a prominent, in-their-prime athlete will reveal that they're gay.
And before that day comes, young aspirant athletes who happen to be gay will need to know that their biggest audience and, in a way, the biggest part of the team -- the fans -- care less about their choice of sex partners than about the traits that should really matter to any team: athleticism, dedication, resilience and... yes, courage.
Testo's shown a good deal of it this week. Let's show him -- and those debating whether it's safe to walk in his footsteps -- that we appreciate it.
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