Jason Collins Signs With Nets, Becoming First Openly Gay N.B.A. Player. Most teams appear to be exclusively but not openly gay.

To The NY Times reporting that Jason Collins Signs With Nets, Becoming First Openly Gay N.B.A. Player,  Marquel, TPV‘s Times Sports Correspondent added, opening the door for all the other players to go through.
Marquel couldn’t believe the universal celebration of sports columnists most of whom live in gated communities. So he traveled to Kansas where the law allows restaurants to exclude gay customers. He looked around for a likely restaurant owner to interview. But how to spot a straight restaurant? What do homophobes eat? It was a question worthy of Shakespeare. Then in a spirit of tolerance Marquel decided that homophobes are just like you and me. We’re all the same. Except Marquel had this lingering suspicion that they’re a bit fatter than the rest of us. Finally fat people going in and out of the All American Pancake House. Jackpot! American and obese.

If that’s not homophobe I don’t know homophobes, Marquel told himself. Then he told himself, “I know homophobes senator and you’re no homophobe.” He tossed that thought away as the ramblings of a sixties casualty.

He walked in and decided to be provocative. A few hip sashays, his hand to his face and someone barked,

“Hey, you gay??”

“Sorry,” said Marquel, “But if you keep looking I’m sure you’ll find one soon. There’s someone for everybody, you know.”

“What are you a wise guy?” Asked the blubbery waiter.

“Yup, ” I said, “But I’m not gay. Look at my press pass.” I gave him my handwritten pass.

He looked at me with confusion, so I said,”you can’t get a press press if you’re gay, you know.”

He gave me a thumbs up and I returned it.

Personally, Marquel knew that Collins is not the only gay player in the NBA. In fact, he is just the only one who announced it. All the rest are hiding in the locker room. Some opponents of  the gayization of sports have very specific fears. He spoke to the customers of all American.

One told me that ever since Harry Lew and Chuck Cooper broke the color line in pro hoops in the 50s, the public was subconsciously afraid they would take over.

“Look at the league now,” he told me, “it’s all black.”

“So what,” I challenged.

“So most of us have no-one to identify with. That’s half the fun of sports, identifying and imagining,” he said.

I looked at him with disbelief. He was about 5 6″ and near 200. “And you can identify with people who are a foot and a half taller than you, dunking balls while looking down through the hoop, as long as they’re white?”

“Well, Sure, err, no, But, yeah it’s a little more natural,”he said.

“I think bigotry is natural that’s the problem, But let’s go on. ..your fear with Collins is the same…that once they let in one gay player we’ll end up with an entirely gay, and I guess black, NBA?” I asked.

“Yeah sure. How can we identify with gay players when we know what they’re doing under the sheets.”

“How must they feel going up for a shot thinking about what straight people in the bleachers do under their sheets?” I asked. “So,” I questioned, “unless you really were under those sheets,” to which his face turned scarlet, “how would you know they’re gay?”

“They’re different. They dribble different, walk different, pat each other on the fanny.” He countered.

“But they already do that,” I said.

“Maybe they’re gay,” he said tremulously.

“You got it,” I said.

“You think?” He asked.

I nodded. “And you’re still fine, see? So how is it a big deal?” I asked.

A bigger guy came up and sat next to me, spilling my coffee and Swedish pancakes. He stared at my lingonberry butter and hrumphed. “I’ll tell you the big deal Mr. Know-it-all New York, ” he said. “Our kids. These gay pansy pants players are going to turn all our kids gay. That’s the gay world strategy.”

“You really think so,” I asked.

He shook his head as if the answer were too obvious to verbalize.

“Well then let me ask you this,” I said, pausing as pregnantly as a Midwest gay suspect could afford to pause. Then I said very slowly, “what about your children now. They’re been watching a predominantly black league shoot hoops for two generations. Any of your kids turn black? Even a bit tan? You see?”

The big guy laughed, and said, “well they turn real red in the summer. We don’t believe in that spf crap.”

“Good for you,” I said, “and you shouldn’t believe in world strategies either. No-one stupid enough to have one would be smart enough to make it work. Can’t we all get along?” I said in my best Rodney King whine.

“Sure” he said, “lemme taste that,” he said, eating my entire meal before I responded.

“Makes ya gay, you know,” I said, “honest!”

I could tell he didn’t believe me. He licked his lips and smiled, as if saying he was too smart to fall for that. Or maybe he thought it worth the risk.

You can follow Marquel on Twitter @MarquelatTPV