Striving for perfection
A new inclusive story for LGBTQ+ cricket?
I stood on the club terrace overlooking a darkening oval, bracing myself as a chilly early autumn breeze picked up. My teammates and club members were milling about, and I wondered what I was doing.
I was there, but I wasn’t.
This is a common experience for me, a sense of standing to the side and watching, not really being there.
A state of mental transition, perhaps even loneliness.
The conversation surrounding me was typical of a Saturday evening in the summer following a days cricket. Much of it captured the spirit, stories and comings and goings of the matches; slowly dissolving and becoming ever louder as the evening wore on and the drink flowed. I’m remote to these conversations when I haven’t played that day, and this often becomes even more remote as alcohol plays its part.
It was the end of another season, albeit one heavily curtailed by covid-19. Although my form had improved over the season, I spent most of it feeling like my primary school self, standing in line, waiting to be picked by the popular kids in my class. Sports teams were chosen this way when I was ten. As an overweight and chronically shy boy, usually I was picked close to last. This is how I perceived my selections this year.
These feelings are deep-rooted within me from childhood. Many members of the LGBTQ+ community reflect that school PE lessons were traumatic for them. I have always told myself that school PE lessons didn’t affect me, but the truth is I hated them. A sense of dread and sometimes a panic would wash over me on those days. Mild anxiety often occurs today on match days, something I find difficult to shake off despite knowing it is irrational.
The striving for perfection, to prove myself, is never-ending. Scoring runs, no matter how many, never feels like enough. I should have made five more, ten more, twenty more. I constantly analyse mistakes. It can drive improvements, and sometimes I can feel and see that improvement. Any mistake, no matter how small, and I instantly revert to my younger self, waiting to be picked by one of the cool boys to be on their team at primary school. Then I am back on the terrace on a Saturday night wondering what I am doing.
Many gay men struggle with imposter syndrome in sports. I know this isn’t unique to me and particularly my generation. I’m encouraged to read sporting stories from younger generations where they describe the burden being lifted after coming out, helping to create an environment that drives performance. This performance bounce has happened for me but not playing for so many years contributes to me returning to periods of low confidence and struggles a few times a season. This, like any mental affliction, can be hard to shake although it has improved over the years, and I am taking steps to improve it further over the winter. Good levels of fitness will help, as will defining a role for myself, one where I can contribute more fully to the LGBTQ+ community, especially those who want to play cricket.
The survey I developed exploring the demand for a local LGBTQ+ inclusive cricket team closed this week. The results have surprised me. Response numbers were higher than I expected, and it feels like there could be a real appetite to get a social team off the ground next year. I knew there would be people who had played cricket in the past but had stopped at some point. But the numbers of people were higher than expected. It will be fascinating to explore with them why they gave the game away and what is it about an inclusive team that is tempting them back. It confirms to me that inclusive teams have an essential role to play.
I was encouraged to see a handful of other current LGBTQ+ players in the survey. Many of them are open about their sexuality at their clubs. This gives me hope that with the right support and encouragement cricket can become an even more inclusive sport in the years to come. Our proposed new team can be at the heart of that in the Midlands.
If the team can bring the LGBTQ+ community back to cricket and cricket back to the community, then I’m hopeful a sense of authentic belonging and camaraderie can be achieved. Most importantly, no one will need to feel like they are that kid nervously standing in a line, waiting to be picked for a team at school.
