Dropping the Soap for Michael Sam

soapI confess – I am a fervent fan of the National Football League. More specifically, I am an out loud and shamelessly proud, queer Cheesehead. So needless to say, when the Rams chose openly gay, defensive end Michael Sam as their seventh-round draft pick it made me positively giddy. And then there was the subsequent, very brazen, PDA between Sam and his boyfriend Vito Cammisano! A much talked about, and repeatedly tweeted lip lock that managed to fan the cockles of my homo heart into a burning inferno; the flames of which threatened to melt the yellow wedge on my head into a simmering crown of St. Louis ewe fondue.

sam kissI want to be clear here. As much as I love the NFL I am not one of those guys who can spout endless statistics, faithfully follows the draft, or is addicted to fantasy football. As a matter of fact, there are many aspects of the game that I still don’t fully understand. I am often surprised by a new rule or confused by a flying flag for some penalty that I have never heard called before. Be that as it may, the combination of grit and spectacle inherent in professional football never fails to excite me. In addition, I am continually awed by the herculean power, the infinite perseverance, and the exceptional athleticism that are the minimum requirements for those who dare to play the game. And all that celebratory ass-slapping is just frosting on the cake.

That said, I think it is fair to say that only the most Dark Age dwelling and dimwitted among us would try to argue that Sam is actually the first homosexual to ever grace the NFL’s gridiron. The history of the game is far too long and there are just too damn many Muscle Marys out there to realistically think that no professional, pigskin-flinging queen has come before him. He is undeniably, however, the first openly gay draftee. And as such, he is understandably fast becoming prime time media chum. Of course Oprah wants a bite, why shouldn’t she? He’s totally trending, yo. My guess is that every charlatan trying to sell power bars, antiperspirants, or padded purple jockstraps, is going to want a piece of this guy as well. And yes, the gay politicos will undoubtedly try to sprinkle their agenda into the mix and then make a grand show of granting Sam some kind of glorified poster boy status. All of this is to be expected. This is after all the world in which we now live. #realitycheck.

Do I wish that Sam – an openly gay man – was not a freakish anomaly in professional sports? Of course I do. Unfortunately, for the time being at least, he is. So, should he and those around him make moves to capitalize on the fact that he is unique, or – dare I say it – special, in this way? Will a documentary help or hinder his chances of actually getting some turf time? Do the decisions that he makes now send some kind of everlasting message about who Sam is as a person? Surely these are important questions that Sam and his posse must carefully consider. In the end, however, the final and accurate yea or nay to these queries will only be known in time. For the present, the talkers, bloggers, and tweeters can only make snap judgments and precarious suppositions that are prejudiced by their own beliefs and personal agendas.

Before all of the flash and flurry of this past week’s events, I admit to having my own prejudiced and dreamy plan for Sam.  I fantasized about a first-round draft snatch of Sam by the Green Bay Packers. And then, after a quiet but impressive pre-season showing, he would of course have a breakout first season performance. I imagined that he would go on to have a long, safe, and respected career. I dreamed that his years in the spotlight would teach Sam to respectfully balance the pressures of fame, the demands of his personal life, and the many challenges of playing in a professional sports league that was profoundly perplexed by his presence. He would gloriously succeed – against all odds – as the first openly gay player in NFL history.  He would eventually write a brutally honest and eloquently rendered autobiography – ghostwritten by yours truly, of course.  Oh, and he would make a cute habit of always wearing both of his Super Bowl rings to book signings – but never in an overly flamboyant, look at me kind of way.  He would eventually retire gracefully and then be inducted into the Hall of Fame with his husband and children proudly at his side.

This was my fantasy football tale for Sam; my secretive selfish desire. Why? Because as a gay man of a certain generation I am still burdened with the weight of an implicit societal shame, weakness, and insecurity about who I am. I wanted to be able to point to someone tall, strapping, and all-American. I wanted to have a shining example of some squeaky clean, wholesome, big-hearted gayness that would serve to prove the long list of bigots, cynics, and naysayers, finally and emphatically wrong. I wanted to have some irrefutable proof that gays are not only capable, strong, and deserving, but that we are exemplary. I wanted someone – Michael Sam – to make me feel better about myself in relation to the world in which I live, and to decisively show humanity that it is wrong to continually sideline people simply based on whom they love. But alas, that is not Sam’s job. #poorme.
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No. Michael Sam is a professional athlete; a football player in the NFL. His job is to do everything in his power to make money for himself and for the huge-horned franchise that took him in. It is not Sam’s responsibility to set a good gay example. Nor is he obligated to uphold some false, unrealistic, Friday night lights, kumbaya charade to help perpetuate the delusional expectations of a stadium full of overgrown, hypocritical, beer-chugging man-boys. Sam is not simply playing a game. He is an employee in a high-profile business with a crush or be crushed bottom line. His high dollar earnings window, like most professional athletes, is small at best. And for those with less than stellar talent, or bad luck, that window may never open at all.

So when people like sports columnist and self-proclaimed reformed homophobe Jason Whitlock call Sam out for how he chooses to navigate the early first quarter of his NFL career, I take some offense.  “America, for the most part, would wrap its arms around Michael Sam, the gay, underdog football player fighting to find his place in the NFL. America, for the most part, will reject Michael $am, the gay, in-your-face political/media pawn using the NFL as a platform to launch his celebrity brand,” he proclaims in his article. Whitlock brazenly asserts that Sam would be accepted as a gay underdog, fighting to find his place, but not as a brashly gay, ego-driven athlete who thinks he deserves to be right where he is. Perhaps Whitlock should let Sam know how long a gay athlete should obediently kowtow or curtsey before claiming the place he has rightfully earned on the heretofore, homogenously hetero, NFL platform. What is the appropriate waiting period before a man like Sam should assert himself, Mr. Whitlock? Please let him know, because the last thing that we gays want to do is to ruffle the pristine tail feathers of former homophobes like you.

Before I go on, I want to admit that there are a few things that I did like in Whitlock’s column, “The Right Message.” First, I support his belief that the issues of equality for black and brown people are indeed connected to the same issues of equality for gays and lesbians. That is the right message. Second, I agree with his observation that Sam’s words and his actions seem to sometimes contradict each other, but I would go on to contextualize some of Sam’s behavior by citing the fact that he is still young, somewhat green, and in a completely unique circumstance. I believe that the much of the true nature of Sam’s character, good or bad, has yet to reveal itself. Finally, I applaud Whitlock’s decision to replace the “S” in Sam with a $ to repeatedly emphasize his negative judgment of Sam’s desire to be financially successful. Whitlock’s clever use of “$am” is akin to a six-year-old girl – or a six-year-old gay boy for that matter – dotting their i’s with flowers or smiley faces. Brava Whĩtlock!

As a whole, I find it off-putting that Whĩtlock sits in such stern condemnation over the decisions of someone like Michael Sam. Whĩtlock claims to know what America – “for the most part” – will wrap its arms around and what it will reject. Well, as a gay person of color who has grown up in a country owned and operated – for the most part – by straight white people, my guess is that Sam has some pretty clear ideas of his own regarding America’s often duplicitous and difficult to read moral compass. #donaldsterling.

samI suspect that the long push ahead for Sam – from his first coin toss to his final two-minute warning – will be tough going. My guess is that he will often find himself scrambling to come up with some effective strategies – both offensive and defensive – for a highly challenging game that no one has dared to play before him. Missteps and outcomes aside, Sam’s bravery alone – in this moment and in this time – is nothing short of awe inspiring. When all is over and done with, I have one sincere and lasting hope for Michael Sam’s career. Not that he turns out to be the guy who satisfies the rainbow agenda. Not that he sets a good example for my son. Not that he routinely impresses the half-time talking heads. Not that he builds a boatload of bank for himself and a bunch of media moguls. Not even that he paves the way for future gay players in the NFL. And not that he is lauded for sending the “right message,” whatever various people think that might be. Any or all of those things might be a bonus, yes. But the most important thing really is that Sam becomes the best version of the man and the ball player that he has long-dreamed of being. Just that. And I have every faith that Sam is in fine shape and up for the challenge. #standwithsam.