WHAT THE YOU CAN PLAY PROJECT MEANS TO ME?
by Jeff Kagan
Published in COMPETE Magazine, Spring 2013 Issue
There was a
time in my life when ice hockey was all I'd think about. It captivated me, pushing all
other interests aside. Before discovering the game, I had absolutely no
interest in sports whatsoever, actually despising all sports. This may have had something to do with my height, not quite five feet tall throughout high school, or maybe it was because my hand-eye
coordination didn't truly develop until I was in my mid-twenties. But hockey
came along when there was a big void in my life and it
changed everything. It may have been the timing. It
may have been fate. There was something about it. The elegance... The magic...
It lured me in and brought a new joy to my world.
I'd play at all hours of the night, some of my games starting after midnight when the ice was available. One season, I was able to skate four nights in a row, playing every Thursday through Sunday. I’d limp into work on Monday morning, loving every bit of pain as it reminded me of the hours of fun I had over the last four days. It was a wonderful time in my life: in my mid-twenties, new to ice hockey and new to New York City, both clearly defining me to my friends and family.
I dedicated all
of my free time to the game. I began following the New York Rangers, not as a
“band-wagon fan” but in 1993, the year before they won their
Stanley Cup, when they finished last in the league. I was watching every NHL
game I could and going to as many games as I could. I even took a 14-hour train
ride up to Montreal for the weekend with a friend just to see a Canadiens game in the beloved Montreal Forum
before it closed for good. I went to the All-Star Game in 1995 in Denver Colorado and got
to meet the legendary Gordie Howe
and take a picture with him elbowing me to the head (a move he was most famous
for). In 1996, I was a Pee Wee Youth Hockey Coach at Sky Rink at Chelsea Piers,
and my team played against the team that had Wayne Gretzky’s two sons on it! Of
course, I’d speak to Wayne at the rink every week, which was as surreal as you
could imagine for any hockey fan.
Being on the
ice was now second nature to me. I was a hockey player. I was in the
best shape of my life and I felt more comfortable in my skates than I did out
of them. Covered head-to-toe in all of my gear, I felt invincible. But deep inside, where no hockey gear could protect me, I was still vulnerable due to a part
of my life that I had yet to reveal to my teammates, my friends or my family. I was gay.
I worried that
if my secret ever got out, I would no longer be able to play hockey. I don’t exactly remember why I felt that way, but it is a
feeling that I will never forget.
How would
people look at me if they knew? Who would want me on their team. How would I be
treated in the locker room. Who would want me to coach their children? Sadly, these are the thoughts that haunted me day and night. What if my secret
got out…
Worlds
Collide
On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d spend a lot of time on the internet looking for answers about my sexuality. I had no one I could talk to about
this and I was alone and afraid. I’d search keywords to see what where they’d lead, hoping for a few articles that might comfort my racing brain. One of the
first words I tried was the word
"gay". Not surprisingly, over 10,000 results appeared, however, they
were not exactly educational. I decided to see what would happen if I searched
for keywords "gay" and "hockey" together.
Surely nothing would come out of those two words, which in my mind didn’t
belong in the same sentence.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a short list of
"gay hockey associations". The first one I checked out was the
Toronto Gay Hockey Association. I found a website that wasn't tattered with naked men, but rather one
that showed pictures of people playing hockey, celebrating together after games, and looking genuinely happy. There were game scores and summaries -- and a mission statement: The Toronto Gay
Hockey Association offers an environment free
from all forms of harassment and discrimination and encourages fair play,
openness and friendship. I thought I was
dreaming!
They hosted an annual event in October called The Friendship Tournament. I immediately sent them an email letting them know I was interested, but in the closet, and asked if I could participate.
They invited me with open arms. When I arrived at the rink, I looked around and saw about 200 hockey players. I nervously asked one of the Tournament Directors, Paul O’Kane,
“They’re all gay??” He said, “Well, most of ‘em. ” Everyone was friendly and I felt welcome. I was placed on the
Vancouver team and noticed that next to my name, it said “Captain”. I met up with the team and asked why I
was listed as the team captain. They told me that because I was from New York,
they assumed I’d be bossy.
I was instilled with a great sense of
belonging. The camaraderie was astounding -- as if
I walked into a place where everyone knew my deepest, darkest
secret, but rather than push me away, it brought me closer to them. I could let
my guard down and just be myself and play hockey.
This was the very beginning of my journey, not just towards the closet door, but
towards happiness.
Those four days were four of the greatest days of my life. I learned a lot about myself and realized
that my sexual orientation had absolutely nothing to do with my ability to be a
hockey player. It would take me some time to process all of it. A few
days after returning to New York, I got an email from Paul asking me to write a short article for their newsletter on the subject, “What Gay Hockey Means To
Me.” I was still in the closet in New York, so I had nothing to worry about
with a newsletter that a handful of people would see in Toronto. Obviously, I knew very little about how the internet
turned a big world into a very small place.
A few days later, I get an email from one of my teammates in New York,
Jeff Minck. He wrote to tell me that he read an article online
by a gay hockey player from New York City name Jeff Kagan” and wondered if I was that Jeff Kagan. My heart raced as I read and I felt a panic attack coming on. But his next sentence put me at
ease and I continued reading as he told me he was also gay and surprised that there were two gay men on the same hockey team. What were the chances?
The following October, both Jeff and I went to Toronto together for the
tournament. That weekend, Paul O’Kane suggested we set up a similar
organization in New York City. We started planning right away, modeling
the organization after Toronto. We promoted it local gay weekly magazines and
newspapers, and held our first meeting at the LGBT Community Center on July 29, 1999.
New players
started coming out of the woodwork and soon enough we had a few teams. The one
similarity I observed amongst the new members was that many of them had grown up playing ice hockey, but decided to give it up in the mid-teens.
Many lost interest, citing a feeling of not fitting in. I attribute a lot of
these stories to the homophobia that many of us have experienced as children or
teenagers.
When
I was younger, it wasn’t only my lack of height,
but also the sense of being different. I knew I was attracted to the other
boys. And I knew that it was wrong. Or at least perceived as wrong by the
insults and homophobic slurs tossed around the school yard. Sometimes at
me, but generally at anyone in the sites of the "daily bully". I use
that term because there wasn't just one bully in my life. There were several.
But that comes with the territory when you're the smallest kid in the schoolyard. As children, we’ve all heard those disparaging words, and
they bring with them a feeling -- an association of something you do NOT want
to be. It’s Survival 101 for any
child at school -- camouflage yourself under the guise of
"normal". Being different can be dangerous. And if you feel different than your peers,
how soon before they begin to notice it.
How soon before you don’t want to be part of that group. That’s
how the homophobia begins in each of us. Hating ourselves for not fitting in. It isn’t hard to imagine why gay teens are four times more
likely to attempt suicide than their straight peers.
The single experience in Toronto of walking into the
rink and meeting 200 gay hockey players just like me was all it took to help me
rebuild my self-esteem. It made me understand that I didn’t need to worry about
being different. I could play the game I loved so much and be accepted for who
I am.
That’s the kind of feeling we wanted to create in our
members. By joining the New York City Gay Hockey Association, you joined a new
family that was just like you and would stand by you.
Homophobia Rears Its Ugly Head
In 2007, the
NYC Gay Hockey Association arranged to go as a group to see the New York
Rangers play. The interesting thing about buying group tickets is that your
group is mentioned on the jumbo screen that hangs over the arena for all of the
other patrons to see. There were about 20 of us, very happy to be there, having
a great time. We anxiously awaited during the 2nd period break to see our organization appear on the giant
screen. And there it was. We were thrilled. However, following the appearance
of the name “New York City Gay Hockey Association”, 10,000 Rangers fans made it
clear that we were not welcome there as they boo’d. My
heart began to race. I not sure if I was feeling angry or terrified, or a
combination of both. Shortly after, we wrote a letter to Glenn Sather, the Rangers General Manager and
asked him to create a fan-education program that denounces antigay remarks. We
didn’t get any feedback, so our next step was to contact New York City Council Speaker Christine Quinn. Quinn, who is
gay, arranged a sit-down with us and the management of Madison Square Garden to
determine what could be done to prevent this from happening again. The
atmosphere in the meeting was tense but we opened a dialogue on the subject at
hand. As a result, management at Madison Square Garden began to broadcast
warnings that they will remove fans who behave offensively. They also posted
additional security throughout the arena.
You Can Play
In November
2009, Brendan Burke, the youngest son of the Toronto Maple Leafs General
Manager Brian Burke came out to
his team. Brendan was an athlete and student manager of the RedHawks Men’s Ice
Hockey Team at Miami University in Ohio. Coming out in this forum was somewhat
unusual, considering the aspect of homophobia still present in many parts of
the sports world. But he had the courage to move forward and he was praised by
his teammates and the hockey community at large. News stories hit the sports section of newspapers and websites all across North
America. I can still remember reading every article on the subject. I was so
happy for Brendan. I was happy for him to have the courage that he did, but
also for the respect that he earned from his teammates, and most importantly,
from his family.
Tragically,
less than three months later, Brendan and a friend were killed in a car
accident while driving in a snowstorm in Indiana. I read the news that day with
tears in my eyes. As a fellow gay athlete, Brendan was an
inspiration to me. He was one of us. He had
a great future ahead of him, working together to fight homophobia in sports. It
seemed like that was the end of his story, but it was only the beginning. In March 2012, Brian Burke, and
Brendan’s brother Patrick founded the You Can Play Project along with Brian
Kitts and Glenn Witman of GForce Sports.
Their goal was to continue Brendon’s fight against homophobia in sports. In an article about his brother,
Patrick Burke wrote that the entire Burke family promised their “unwavering,
unremitting, relentless support” of the cause.
The You Can
Play Project has made some amazing progress over the past year. Patrick Burke
has traveled all over with LGBT athletes and allies, making speeches at various schools and colleges, and spreading
their very basic, yet important seven-word message: “If you can play, you can play.” The organization’s
goals are as follows:
You
Can Play is dedicated to ensuring equality, respect and safety for all
athletes, without regard to sexual orientation. You Can Play works to guarantee
that athletes are given a fair opportunity to compete, judged by other athletes
and fans alike, only by what they contribute to the sport or their team’s
success.You Can Play seeks to challenge the culture of locker rooms and
spectator areas by focusing only on an athlete’s skills, work ethic and
competitive spirit."
Over 60 NHL
players and personnel have endorsed the campaign, as well as several American
Hockey League and college teams. These statistics alone were enough to bring a
smile to my face.
But then on
Thursday, April 11, 2013, my jaw dropped. Gary
Bettman, the Commissioner of the National Hockey League held a press conference
announcing a partnership between the NHL, the NHL Players’ Association and the
You Can Play Project. Bettman said, "Our motto is 'Hockey Is For Everyone,' and our partnership with You Can
Play certifies that position in a clear and unequivocal way. While we believe
that our actions in the past have shown our support for the LGBT community, we
are delighted to reaffirm through this joint venture with the NHL Players'
Association that the official policy of the NHL is one of inclusion on the ice,
in our locker rooms and in the stands."
This was truly a
dream come true. I began thinking, not so much about the professional athletes
who may be struggling in the closet, but more about the kids -- the youth
hockey players of the world -- the teenagers who, right this very minute are
going through the same torture that so many of us endured years ago. This
partnership is a light at the end of the tunnel and it sends a message -- a
very clear message: inclusion, not rejection.
In his interview about the partnership, Patrick Burke’s most
poignant quote is, "The big thing for me as an older brother is that,
looking back, I didn't do enough because I didn't know. I didn't do enough at
the time to make sure that his locker room was safe and that he was feeling at
home in the sports culture. By the time I learned to change my ways and to do
what I needed to do, it was too late for him as a young athlete," Burke
said. "This is, from the Burke family's perspective, this is making sure
that the next generation of LGBT athletes and coaches and fans don't have to go
through what Brendan went through."
The
partnership between the You Can Play
Project and the National Hockey League is not
only improving the hockey experience for everyone, but it is bringing hope
to a whole new generation of hockey fans. We won’t see so many players walking
away from the game they love. They’ll stick with it, try harder, and know that
they’ll be judged on their abilities as athletes. I now feel the support of the NHL -- I feel included -- and that same feeling is going
around from locker room to locker room, with hockey players of all ages, from Pee-Wee
to NHL.
If you can play, you can play.
