“Thanks!” I said. “Will do.”
He pointed at me as his way of saying good-bye, and I watched him walk over to another friend.
“You cheating on Bryan already?” It was Carrie. She had walked up behind me and now her chin was on my back. She rested her nose on my left shoulder.
I continued watching Todd. “Nah. Todd has nothing on Bryan,” I said.
She smirked at me. “Yeah, right,” she said.
“He’s eye candy,” I said, and I blushed.
“You can do better,” she said, ignoring my comment. “He’s a complete idiot. He’s in my math class.”
“He speaks highly of you, too,” I said, turning to her. “He told me to invite the hot, weird girl I hang with to his party.”
“Awesome, he’s hot. I’m so there,” she said, and we laughed.
GAY QUARTERBACK COMES CLEAN by BOBBY FRAMINGHAM November 18, 2007 Special to the Orange County Register
I’ve never been very good outside the pocket.
As a quarterback, I’ve always preferred to know where my protection is, then set my feet and throw. Anytime I have to scramble, I get nervous because throwing on the run isn’t really a strength of mine.
Last month, I was forced out. Of the closet, in this case. A reporter for my high school paper found out I was gay and wrote the story without my permission. I’m not going to say anything more about him, other than what he did was wrong. He really didn’t think about the repercussions, or what it meant for me.
I wasn’t ready to have my family and teammates know. I was just starting to get comfortable, and then everyone knew. Talk about scrambling! I’m still learning to accept being gay for myself.
At the time I felt like he had stolen my dream. There’s not exactly a fraternity of openly gay high school football players, let alone players at higher levels. It’s not hard to figure out why. Being gay means you’re supposed to be effeminate and someone like that isn’t going to make it in sports.
I don’t have a ton of role models as an openly gay football player, but I have good friends, and a great coach and teammates, and an awesome family, and everyone is doing their best to help me out, and I appreciate it a lot.
My dream has always been to make it as a pro. I don’t know if I’m going to make it. I’m not sure if I have what it takes to begin with, and now there’s this new obstacle. I’ve only been out for a month and it’s already been a real challenge.
But so far I’ve been all right, and I plan to keep going. I’m going to try to face every challenge as it comes. No one gets to be a pro athlete by avoiding adversity. Gay or straight, you have to step up, work hard, and never take no for an answer.
So I’m out now. And I’m learning how to throw on the run, and I’m learning to accept who I am. And none of it is easy. But learning to scramble on the run is making me a better quarterback.
And I guess I should be thanking that reporter. Because even if it wasn’t my idea, being honest about who I am has made me feel like a better person.
34
On a rainy, chilly Saturday at Durango High School, we opened the playoffs against Corona Del Mar. The Sea Kings were a good running team, Coach told us; if we couldn’t stop the run, we’d lose.
“We gonna let them dictate this game?” he asked in the locker room before the kickoff.
“No!” we shouted.
“We hungry?”
“Hell yeah!” I looked around and smiled. We looked hungry. I saw a lot of serious faces, and it gave me some confidence when I needed it. My stomach felt way queasy.
The Sea Kings ran their way to a 7-0 lead. On our first possession, I ran onto the soggy field and got an ovation from our home crowd that warmed me. I could feel that they were on my side.
As we neared the fifty-yard line, Coach called a play-action pass where all our receivers flood the right side of the field. Rahim ran over before flanking out wide right.
“Lean on us, Bobby,” he said, looking into my eyes. “You don’t need to do this all yourself.” I gave him the thumbs-up sign.
The grass felt soft and soggy beneath my feet. I looked down and saw that my cleats were already mud drenched, and tried to remember what Coach had said about running in mud. Stay over your feet, I remembered him saying.
Bolleran hiked the ball and I faked the handoff to Mendez before rolling left. There were puddles of water everywhere and I felt the splash on my socks as I scrambled. I looked downfield and their entire defense was on that side. I couldn’t find an open maroon uniform anywhere.
In a split second, I sprinted forward and to the right.
In my quarterback career, I’d probably run past the line of scrimmage less than ten times. But as my strides got longer, I began to feel sure-footed and balanced. I saw the open field ahead. One linebacker had stayed home on that side and I saw his eyes, brilliant with fear. I galloped toward him and he held his ground. Tucking the ball close to my sternum, I juked right and sidestepped him to the left, my feet slipping in the mud.
He crumpled to the ground. I was now at their forty-yard line and from the corner of my left eye I saw a swarm of players from both teams dashing diagonally to cut me off. I saw two defenders gaining on me; Rahim was alongside one of them.
I cut back, stopping on a dime as I had never done before, and when the first defender did the same, Rahim delivered a blow to his chest, hammering him to the ground with a perfectly legal block.
I continued running, now inside the twenty, and I could hear the crowd screaming for me. The second defender closed in on me at around the fifteen, and I saw him lunge, diving for my ankles.
I hurdled him, avoiding his grab.
I’d never scored on a long run at any level, and crossing the goal line, I felt an exuberance deep in my chest, a floating feeling of being above things and looking down on the celebration. Touchdown. My teammates jumped me, and I gladly collapsed under them in the mud of the end zone.
“Yo, Crazy Legs! That’s what I’m talking’ ’bout!” yelled Haskins as I ran to the sideline. He gave me a high five and I felt elation in my bones.
We led 21-7 by the middle of the second quarter. We were backed up near our own end zone on a third down, needing just one yard for a new set of downs. Coach called a plunge up the middle by Mendez. It was a safe call, given that our line was having no trouble dominating theirs. As we approached the line of scrimmage, I noticed that the Sea Kings had stacked the line, hoping to stop the run.
With eight men on the line, they had just three to cover the backfield, and the only one to my right was directly on the line opposite Rahim. I knew he’d never be able to keep up with Rahim, and looking to that side, I realized we had a quick touchdown if I changed the play with an audible.
But was it too risky?
My head spun, thinking of all the lessons I’d learned, and I couldn’t decide.
I handed off to Mendez who dove up the middle for three yards and a first down. It was a decent outcome, but Coach signaled for a time-out and waved me over.
“Aren’t you Mr. Audible?” he said to me as I hurried to the sideline.
“Just trying to be smart, don’t want to make any mistakes.”
He sighed. “You’re the quarterback. You see a weakness, exploit it. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
“Hey, you did the safe thing, good thinking.” I ran back onto the field, hoping for another chance to do the right thing.
Five plays later, they stacked the line again and this time I quickly called an audible. Rahim cruised past their defender, who seemed stunned that we were throwing. I lobbed the pass to Rahim, who ran it in painlessly for a forty-two-yard touchdown.
“Attaboy,” Coach said when I got to the sideline and removed my helmet. He rubbed my head affectionately. “I think you’re onto something.”
In the locker room after the game, I was changing when I saw a bunch of guys, including Rahim and Austin, huddled in the opposite corner.
My sho
ulders tensed up just seeing it, because things were going so well. I knew it was self-centered, but I was afraid it was about me. It’s not all about me, I know. But anyway, enough had happened recently that I guess it wasn’t the weirdest thing to think.
As I dried my hair and buttoned my shirt, I kept peering over. About six of them were huddled together. Finally, I decided to go over and just see what was going on.
As I approached Rahim saw me and pulled back from the group. They’d been fussing with a large metal boom box, the one we use to play psych-up music before games.
“Hey, it’s Bobby!” Rahim shouted, which was a little strange, because why wouldn’t it be? And they all turned around and greeted me like they hadn’t seen me in a year.
“Hey, Bobby!” Austin said, smirking.
“Hey,” I said, suddenly very nervous.
“We have something for you,” Dennis said.
“Uh,” I said, wishing they’d stop freaking me out. Rahim turned back to the boom box, and seconds later I heard it.
The opening notes of a familiar tune.
I looked at Austin. He had this look on his face that I had never seen before, sort of like a bad boy who’s just been caught doing something and is a little embarrassed.
And then the dancing started. And the singing, the horrible, terrible singing, of my teammates.
“Young man, there’s no need to be down.
I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground . . .”
They had choreographed it, and with every line, there was some horrible hand movement, all of them almost in sync but not quite.
And I lost it. I fell on the ground in hysterics. It was the strangest, funniest thing I had ever seen.
My friends were serenading me with the Village People.
“It’s fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A . . .” they shouted along with the music, spelling out the letters with their arms and bodies. I watched them from the locker-room floor, tears streaming down my eyes.
“Make it stop!” I screamed. “Help! Please! Stop!”
“We just wanted you to feel welcome in the locker room,” Austin yelled above the music. And as the guys continued their awful, pathetic attempt at some sort of gay tribute to me, Austin smiled real wide and winked at me.
I could tell some of the guys were singing in support, and others were being a little nasty.
I chose to focus on the supportive part.
35
Todd’s party was the night of our opening playoff win. I brought Carrie, but not Bryan. I thought that was maybe a little much, and Carrie thought that was way weak of me. It made me think of my dad, when he was asking about Bryan. That made it two of the people closest to me who seemed more okay with my gayness than I was. Weird.
Carrie got lost in the crowd in the living room, and I wound up, as usual, with the football team. In Todd’s bedroom. I was trying to figure out how I could get my entire team out of there, and Todd in. Yeah, I know, Bryan wouldn’t like that too much.
We were all celebrating the win and getting pretty stupid. I got teased a little about gay things, but that’s just how we all are. If they didn’t make fun of me, I’d be a little scared. Half of the guys were drunk. I was drinking soda.
“What kind of gay guy are you, not drinking?” asked Austin. “I thought at least gays drank a lot.”
I just rolled my eyes at him.
Rahim was playing cards with Dennis on the other side of Todd’s room, and I was hanging out with Austin, Colby, and an underclassman named Scooter, who plays on the line. Somers, Mendez, and Bolleran were all in the other room. They didn’t hang out with me away from the field anymore.
“We need to teach you to talk like a straight guy,” said Colby.
“Go for it,” I said.
“Nice rack,” Scooter said slowly. Austin and Colby laughed. Rahim and Dennis put down their cards and looked at us.
“Nice rack,” I repeated, even slower, as if I’d never heard it.
“Nice can,” Scooter said, moving on.
“Nice can,” I replied, like I was learning how to pronounce the words.
“Now that one he’s said before,” Austin said. They all broke out laughing, so I did, too. It was basically harmless. Austin gave me a high five.
“Why am I hanging out with you losers?” asked Dennis, standing. “I need to get me some action.”
I shielded my eyes. “Please warn me when you’re gonna get naked,” I said. “I don’t want to start bleeding from my eyes.”
Rahim laughed loudest, and Dennis swatted at him. “Shut up,” Dennis said.
“Go scare some girls,” Rahim said in return, smiling.
Dennis jogged out of the room, removing his shirt as he went. I groaned. After he was gone, we were all sort of quiet for a while. That’s the thing I knew I’d miss about this team. They way we could all just hang together, the way we didn’t need to always be talking.
“You think we’re gonna see La Habra again?” Austin asked.
“They beat up on Laguna Hills today. Probably,” Rahim answered.
“Good,” I said. “I want to beat the best.”
“True dat,” said Austin. And we were all quiet again, imagining the glory of winning a title game.
At around 11 P.M., just about half an hour before I had to get us both home, Carrie came galloping into Todd’s room. With her was Todd, who didn’t seem to mind that we were strewn out all over his floor. Carrie and Todd was not a pairing I’d expected to see, ever. She had the manic smile on her face that she got when she was really excited.
“Bobby, you have to see this!” she shrieked. I stood up, but she motioned for me to stay seated. Then Carrie looked at Todd. “Ready? Okay, go!” Carrie said, and Todd, totally straight-faced, lay down on his bed.
“Unplug me!” he hissed. I started laughing. It was our old euthanasia skit.
“What, honey?” said Carrie, holding his hand.
“Unplug me!” he hissed, harder.
“No; no, honey, you’re not ugly.” I saw Todd’s lips twitch, and then Carrie suppressed some sort of giggle, and finally the two of them broke out laughing like it was the funniest thing they’d ever done. I felt sort of silly, having been that guy that Todd was now, but I loved the glow in Carrie’s face. Todd, it seemed, had a similar one. I smiled at her.
“Sister found . . .” I said.
“Shut up!” she shrieked at me.
“What the hell are you all talking about?” said Austin.
“It’s some sort of gay thing,” Colby said.
“Yeah, that’s what it is,” I said, punching him in the shoulder. “A gay thing. Moron.”
36
“That’s their car, pulling up,” Coach said, looking through the blinds.
“Quick, everybody hide,” yelled Carrie.
“Right, great idea. Scare the cancer patient to death,” said Dennis.
Bryan scowled at his cousin. I didn’t like the way Dennis had said it, but I had to admit, for once he was right.