Coming Out for Athletes - 3. Curling as a Pinkshirt Junior

A pink shirt. Well, actually, four pink shirts that I could see, and probably a fifth for our fifth player. That’s what Adam brought with him to our game at 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday. It was a kind gesture… I think, but I wasn’t entirely sure why it was a necessary one from my crazy macho curling teammate. Of course, with his five inch long beard and steel pipe arms, we weren’t going to argue with him and we put on our pink t-shirts to celebrate my coming out of the closet.

Two weeks prior, the team had been gathered around one of the tables at our home curling club. We were eating something that pretended at being a healthy lunch between our 8am game and our 12:30 practice that Saturday, and the question turned to me about why I was single. Ian knew; we had played together two seasons ago and I delighted in how I came out to him and rocked his world with the apparently shocking news. He didn’t say a word when Toby, our skip and somehow the least boisterous of us, started zoning in on my lack of girlfriend.

Adam was curious too, I suppose being 20 years old and single must have confused the poor straight guys, and at this point I really didn’t care or worry about who knew or what would happen after; everyone else I’d come out to had been pretty chill about it, so I figured I could deal with all of them at once and not have to worry about doing multiple conversations with these guys.

“Dude, no girlfriend because I prefer dudes. Pass the pepper, you’re hogging the pepper and the rocks today.”

Since Adam and Toby were currently disabled, it fell to Ian to actually pass me the pepper so I could actually enjoy the food in front of me. Toby got really quiet and I could tell this was a big thing for him to deal with and that we were going to have to work it out later on, but as soon as he recovered Adam got this huge grin on his face and started talking about how great it was that I was willing to share that sorta thing and not be worried about how people would take it.

I was getting suspicious here. This was really over the top, and while the words ‘tone it down’ don’t exist for Adam, this was getting a bit ridiculous. I almost felt compelled to get him to relax, but I was secretly enjoying watching this big frat guy twist himself in knots to sound as pro-gay as he could get, even though it was just the four of us sitting around a table eating deep fried food.

Coach came back a little while later and got us going in our practice for the day. Everyone was a little off their game except for me, which made sense since Ian and I were the only ones who weren’t dealing with bombshells, although I suppose Ian was still having to process everyone else’s reactions and realization that I wasn’t just trying to mess with him two years ago.

I thought it was really odd how everyone kept looking at me as well, like I was going to implode or have some other horrible thing happen to me on the ice. I sure hope they didn’t think that just because I was out of the closet now that I was suddenly going to develop a case of sucking as an athlete. Strange of them, but I put it out of my mind since it was still early in the season and I wanted to focus on getting back into shape; this was my final year of junior curling eligibility and I wanted to take a run at another zone championship.

I was looking at this pink shirt. Adam got all our last names on them, like they were part of our team uniform now. He looked so excited to be handing them out to each of us. I couldn’t help but giggle a bit. Having said that, they were atrocious, and I thought about asking what we had all done to be punished with these pink monstrosities. Ian and I cautiously took ours, but apparently I wasn’t the only one with reservations about the shirts. Toby steadfastly refused to change out of his old shirt and into the pink car crash, even while Ian and I headed to the locker room to put ours on.

We were alone in the locker room, and Ian chanced a glance at me full of questioning and meaning. Mustering a shrug, I took off my American Eagle t-shirt and replaced it with this pink thing with my name on it. I’d never admit it, but I did take the opportunity to check out Ian without a shirt. I was starting to regret not taking up his past offers to go soak in his hot tub, he had just the right amount of meat on his bones to get me interested, even though nothing was going to happen.

We struggled into the shirts, and as I was attempting to tuck my shirt into my pants I realized I didn’t have enough shirt to do so easily. For that matter, I didn’t have enough shirt for much of anything; it was uncomfortably tight on me, considering my preference was for baggy clothes that allowed me maximum amounts of movement. When I glanced back at Ian, I could see he was doing no better, and I suspected that this was all done intentionally by Adam.

We walked back to the main foyer of the club, dressed in our pinks and Adam had gotten changed in public. The only person not wearing a pink shirt was Toby, and he seemed quite uncomfortable just to be seen with it. I couldn’t blame him, they were not tasteful and I wasn’t keen to be around them either.

I caught the last line of Adam’s final harangue to get Toby to wear the shirt.

“...supposed to be a team, and this is our easy way of saying we’re okay with Hunter. It won’t kill you to wear it for a game or two.”

Obviously, I wasn’t supposed to hear any of this, but I was touched at how much this meant to Adam and why he decided to get these awful things. I felt a lot more pride about wearing the shirt, and even resolved to take care of it during the season.

Later during the game, Adam, Ian and I were standing on the back boards waiting for the other team to shoot when Adam asked me if the pink shirt was clashing with his polkadot curling pants.

I was a little insulted by the question actually. I was gay, but that didn’t mean that I had to be a fashion diva or any kind of stereotype. I was still Hunter, the former regional champion.

“Dude, I’m a sports gay, not a fashion gay. What an ugly stereotype.” I exclaimed. “Besides… you don’t have to be into fashion or know anything past putting clothes on to know that pink shirt does not work with those polkadots. You look like you just stepped out of a Family Channel special.”

Ian laughed, and it took a moment before Adam started laughing as well. Both looked a little shocked that I had that kind of sass in me, and I was actually a bit surprised as well since that was out of the ordinary for me. I suppose it was just a sign that I was getting more comfortable with this batch of boys and that I wasn’t too worried about what they thought of me anymore.

Nothing else was said for the rest of that season about my being gay, and I appreciated that the team could simply let me play the sport I loved without having to get worried about me for being different.