Zach leapt out of his chair and started pacing the room like a feral animal. This was going south in a hurry. I knew I could defuse the situation, but still wasn’t sure I was ready to take that step. The cameraman from the show had followed the rest of the players out of the room, but that wasn’t a guarantee we had privacy in here. My mind was pulled back to the present when Zach’s voice pitched higher.
“I don’t, okay? I ignore the fact that there’s anything out there other than football, because if I admit that, I have to admit that there’s no way my work and personal lives can coexist. It’d be wonderful if that wasn’t the case, but it is. So as long as I’m here, I have to figure out how to ignore the part of me that wishes I could go home to the man I love. That I wasn’t fucking miserable when I’m not on the field, because I’ve thrown away my chance at being happy. That I’m fucking fooling myself to think the only person I want to be with will stick around this time, waiting for me to decide he’s worth more than being my dirty little secret.”
I recognized the moment Zach processed what he’d blurted out. The color drained from his face and his hands started shaking. He swallowed hard, as though fearing he was about to be sick.
There was no way for me to sit here and pretend I didn’t know what he was going through. What he was feeling.
I understood more than most, but unlike him, I’d never faced the reality of my secrets being front-page news. My mouth went dry, so I walked over to the edge of the room for a bottle of water. It sloshed in my stomach and I swayed, wondering if I was the one who was going to get sick.
I’d been telling myself for months that I didn’t care who figured out that I was a gay man, but that was an entirely different scenario than coming out and saying the words to someone I barely knew.
“That was a good speech. And I know you’re probably replaying everything you just said, trying to figure out how to take it back, but believe me, you’ll be better off for having finally blown up about everything.” Zach’s mouth went slack and his eyes wide. He shook his head subtly and I could tell he was working himself up to tell me I was full of shit, that there was no way this could be okay. “This is what the coaches are all worried about. For the most part, you’re acting like it’s business as usual—”
“Because it is,” he interrupted.
I held up a hand to silence him. “You’re right, but you also have to admit that this is a huge change for you. You’re used to going out there and pretending who you are doesn’t matter, but now it does. And there are guys on your line who know, too. That’s scary shit.”
“Yeah, and dwelling on it won’t do me, or anyone else, a damn bit of good,” he argued.
“I get it.” I reached out again, this time placing my hand on his arm. “Hell, I’ve been out of uniform for six years and it’s still hard for me to admit to most people who I am. I spent over two decades trying to play it straight, and I’m just now working up the balls to be who I am, regardless of what anyone thinks.”
“You mean…?” His question died as understanding flooded his mind. He stumbled back, blinking rapidly as he processed the secret I’d shared.
No, Zach, you’re not alone. Far from it. You’re just the one who’s brave enough to step out of this crowded closet.
He flopped into a chair, scrubbing his face as though trying to figure out if this was all a dream he could wake himself from.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to tell you here. You’re not the first guy to go down this road.”
How many of us had the power to pave the way for kids like him and failed because the world wasn’t ready for gay professional athletes? After talking to Hunter, I realized that even athletes’ minds were changing, but there was still fear of the unknown.
If any of us—and I had to believe I wasn’t the only retired gay player—had come out at any point, maybe Zach wouldn’t be so damn scared right now. I hated myself for the weight I was about to lay on Zach’s shoulders. I couldn’t change how I’d handled my sexuality, but I could help him make the right decision now.
“The good news for you is you don’t have to keep the person you are locked away. The world’s changing, and while it’s a ton of pressure, you have an opportunity I never had. You can be honest about who you are and help other guys like us see that it’s not all or nothing.”
“So what do I do?” His posture straightened, as though he was accepting the challenge I’d given him. He was probably scared out of his mind, but he was willing to try and change the future of the sport we all loved.
I stood as the door opened and Nix walked in. I wondered if he’d been sitting out in the hall, waiting for this moment. He crossed the room and shook hands with Zach. When he turned to me, he hesitated. We’d talked about getting lunch today after the seminar, but there was no way I could be alone with him so soon after ripping off all the bandages that’d been covering my pain.
I’d screwed up so many things by not being willing to come out sooner. And now, I was hiding behind the excuse of needing to protect my adult son.
What a stand-up guy you are,I chastised myself as I gathered my notes.
“Right now, I think it’s time to get away from all this for a bit,” Nixon suggested.
I breathed a sigh of relief. He could take Zach back to campus for their afternoon workout, and I could hide in my hotel room while I figured out whether or not I wanted to tell Nix about the wishes that had kept me up until the early hours of this morning.
“As great as that sounds, we have practice this afternoon,” Zach pointed out.
“If anyone asks, tell them you were in the training room,” Nixon suggested. That was new; the Nixon Cross I knew would never not only suggest that a player skip part of camp, but also encourage him to lie about it.
Zach seemed conflicted. He backed away slowly, but Nixon wasn’t letting him get away.
“Zach, you have nothing to worry about. You’re solid out there. No one’s red pen is hovering over your name.”
As we walked out to my rental car, Zach tapped out a quick message on his phone before tucking it away in his pocket. His shoulders slumped forward and the corners of his mouth tipped downward.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he’d been texting; spotting guilt and regret was easy when you were as familiar with the emotions as I was. This cameraman obviously meant a lot to him.
