Unexpected turns — conversations creating belonging.
Listening to the BBC LGBT Sports Podcast this morning reminded me how individual people and decisions can propel you in different directions with unexpected outcomes. Ryan O’Callaghan’s story is compelling but unusual in many ways. Playing professional sports to avoid having to come out as gay and living an authentic life can’t be common. I had never heard of anyone using their professional sports career so deliberately as a shield to hide who they are. He says he didn’t even love the game. For many of us, staying within sporting environments, professional or not, becomes untenable as we want to come out and live our lives without fear. I’m no professional sportsperson, far from it, but I reached my turning point in August 2016.
After a long break, I had only returned to cricket a few years earlier at the encouragement of my mum and sister, yet I was on the verge of walking away again. I can still recall the inner turmoil and anxiety I felt then as my fear of being outed consumed me and ate me away from the inside. My form had fallen off a cliff, I was struggling to concentrate on the game, and I had become distant around my teammates at the club.
Some teammates noticed, but I couldn’t say anything — it would only end badly. How could it not?
A crisis was looming in my head. I turned to a long-time friend, a cricket person and a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Claire listened with compassion and understanding and helped me find a way forward, or at the very least an action plan — like Ryan in his NFL career, I needed to test the catastrophic theories in my head. If rejected, I could still walk away, but maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be as bad as I expected.
It went better than I expected — not perfectly, but much better, and I enjoyed my next few years of cricket.
A lot has happened since that day, and the role of cricket in my life has changed fundamentally. Almost four years later, I reached another unexpected turning point, talking to Jack about my idea for an LGBTQ+ cricket club on a hot July day in 2020. His positive response to the idea and encouragement to explore it further was the catalyst to where I am today. That conversation changed my relationship with the sport further, and I hope it has also changed for other people, too.
Fast forward to today, and I’m incredibly grateful for those conversations with Claire and Jack. They both, in different contexts and profound ways, set me on a path to creating opportunities for people who felt that cricket and sporting environments were not something they could be part of.
At the Unicorns, we have a range of people who play. For some, they played when younger, but when coming to terms with their sexuality or gender identity, they walked away. For others, they never played, except for a few sports sessions while at school. For the lucky ones, we had plenty of cricket but hadn’t always been able to be who we were. But everyone wanted to be part of the game, for the chance to try it out and be part of a club.
From ready to walk away to helping others to come to the game. It has been a rollercoaster road, and there is still so much more that cricket can do to ensure everyone can play and feel they belong. I recognise that I have grown and come a long way despite regular moments when I feel overwhelmed and have a crisis of confidence. I am grateful to everyone involved with the Unicorns and in my cricketing journey. Everyone has taught me so much.
I believe that now I understand better why many in the LGBTQ+ community have struggled to engage with sports — although learning will never end. While I can continue to help give more people the chance to play a game they love, I will keep going.
Seeing the pleasure, camaraderie, and friendship has helped me engage with the LGBTQ+ community — something I had always previously struggled with or to find a home within. The Unicorns and Claire and Jack have helped me find that home, an outcome I never expected.
