“This guy, he means that much to you?”
“He means everything to me,” I admitted. “Being with him is the first time I’ve ever been completely comfortable with who I am. Loving him taught me to love myself, and I don’t want to change anymore.”
“Wow…that was like, poetic and shit,” Darren said, making me laugh. “I guess I should meet this guy, huh?”
“Yeah. I’d like that. It’s complicated, though. He lives in California. He has a job where he can’t just give his two weeks’ notice and up and move, even if he wanted to.”
“Shit. That sucks.”
“It does.” I played with my phone, flipping it over and over on my lap. “I, um…I want to come out publicly. I know it’s stupid. Everyone thinks so. He thinks I should wait until the end of the season. My mom is still getting used to the idea, and I’m not sure she’ll ever want me to come out. I talked to my agent—I haven’t told West yet—but even he is strongly advising against it.” It was fucking killing me. Once I set my mind to something, once I made a decision, I needed to see it through.
When Darren didn’t reply right away, I added, “I get it. I’m taking a huge fucking risk. It’s like I’ll have to prove myself all over again after a fucking Super Bowl win and in the last year of my contract. That doesn’t even count the shit I’ll have to hear in the locker room, on the field, from fans…but goddamn it, Darren. Why should it matter? Why should it matter who I love?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No, not for that—well, I am sorry that this world and sports in general are so shitty, but I’m sorry about things I’ve said. Words I’ve used. I can’t imagine how that made you feel. I’m sorry, and I’ll do better. If you decide you want to come out, I’ve got your back. Whatever you need, I’ll be there, and if anyone has shit to say, they’ll have both of us to deal with.”
“I…” Didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure there were words that conveyed how much that meant to me, how much Darren’s support meant to me. It fueled the already ignited fire inside me.
“Come here, man.” Darren stood, I did too, and he pulled me into a tight hug. “I mean it. This is your life, and you deserve to live it out loud. I’m sorry if I ever contributed to your fear of being true to who you are.”
Somehow, Darren’s words were the last puzzle piece that needed to fit into place, and I knew, repercussions be damned, what I needed to do.
It was the last day of training camp. We’d come into the locker room a few minutes before, and Coach was wrapping up his speech. When he was finished, his eyes locked on mine, the silent question there: Are you sure about this? Because he wasn’t, none of the management team were, and my agent still wasn’t on board, but what choice did they have? They couldn’t forbid me from coming out. When I sat down to talk with my coach, he’d immediately called management. Everyone said the same thing: they would support me, but they didn’t think I should do this.
Still, I nodded, and he cleared his throat. “Hawkins would like to speak to you all for a second.”
Coach stepped aside. Darren clapped me on the back in support as I stood, filled with a kind of resolve I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt. I was doing this. I was tired of lying. I wanted to live my life.
I kept my back straight and my head up as I said, “So, um…I’m gonna keep this short. There’s no real reason to drag it out.” The faces of my teammates were etched in concern—wrinkled foreheads and frowns. I hesitated for a beat, then opened my mouth and set the truth free. “I’m gay. I’ve always been gay, but I’m not keeping it a secret anymore. It’s…exhausting feeling like I’m living a lie every day of my life.” I shrugged. “So yeah, that’s it. I’m gay. I’m still the player I’ve always been, and we sure as shit are still getting ourselves another motherfucking ring at the end of the season. Anyone got a problem with any of that?”
Darren pushed to his feet and stood beside me. It was quiet for a moment, a few shocked faces, some indifferent, and yeah, a few sneers too.
“I don’t,” Darren said, “but I have to admit, I’m a little sad you got yourself a man. I thought you were all mine, Hawkins,” he teased, and I rolled my eyes.
“You wish.”
His joke had accomplished its purpose, though, and loosened everyone’s lips.
“Why am I supposed to care who you fuck?” Chancey said.