Ex-Jayhawk Thorson says openly gay football player in the Big 12 is a 'when,' not an 'if'
KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- Ceilings plummet; goalposts bob and weave. But here's the hypothetical:
Jimmy Slinger is a 6-foot-3 quarterback from Anytown, USA, with an AK-47 for a right arm, the peripheral vision of a barn owl and an extra gear that turns him into a Bugatti Veyron in cleats.
He's also an openly gay teen.
Would, say, Bob Stoops recruit him?
"I can't comment on Bob Stoops, although they've reinvented their offense a number of times there," Brad Thorson says. "Guys like (Auburn coach) Gus Malzahn -- he's made his career about being different -- (are) probably going to be more willing than a coach that really (thinks) that their job is really marketing."
Before he worked in publishing relations with AdsNative, before he set up shop in San Francisco, before he came out of the closet, Thorson, 26, was an offensive lineman at Kansas. He'd transferred to Lawrence from the University of Wisconsin, played for Mark Mangino and Turner Gill from 2008-10, then had a cup of coffee with the Arizona Cardinals, where a broken foot landed him on injured reserve.
The former Jayhawk told the world he was gay on -- wait for it -- Independence Day, via a post on his personal blog, AlphaRoast.com, in an essay entitled "Seeing Through the Fog." The 6-foot-5 Wisconsin native currently plays with an open rugby club in San Francisco called The Fog, whose alumni include 9/11 hero Mark Bingham.
"I'm glad that people are coming to the realization that sexuality doesn't matter, and even moreso in the realm of competitive sports." -- Brad Thorson
"Some of my teammates on my rugby team out here -- we're not a collection of great athletes ... them saying to me, 'I feel less different today than I did yesterday,' that's the biggest compliment of this whole thing," Thorson says. "(That) somebody else could read that (post) and could say they're feeling more normal about themselves."
The normal moves. Jason Collins becomes the first active, openly gay player in one of North America's "Big Four" professional sports leagues. Benedictine College's Jallen Messersmith becomes the first openly gay active men's college basketball player. Missouri's Michael Sam becomes the first openly gay prospect to declare for the NFL Draft, then the first gay man to be selected. The frontier shrinks, for the better.
And yet wilderness remains. Is the Big 12 ready for an active, openly gay football player? What if Sam had come out after his sophomore or junior years instead of after his eligibility had expired? Would the narrative be the same? Would the tone be of acceptance or constant scrutiny? Would a college coach -- where control over players, control over access, control over the message remains largely unchanged from the days of Bud Wilkinson and Bear Bryant, friendly dictatorships dotted all over the heartland of America -- allow that kind of information past the iron curtain?
"Is it going to happen? Yes," Thorson says. "I don't know the time frame.
"I think somebody -- a Michael-Sam-type player -- it's easier for that type of player to come out his senior year or junior year. Brian Simms did that at the Division II level (at Bloomsburg College, in 2000), playing for a national championship. Not taking anything away from him, but the scrutiny of playing Big 12, SEC football makes those things a little bit harder. And the difference (with) Michael Sam and where I am today is now we're our own men. When you're done playing (college) football, you're your own man.
"It's easy for coaches to try and put players into a box ... and people outside (them) is a very threatening thing for coaches."
The normal shifts. As an ex-athlete, Thorson sees himself as an ex-story, his orientation an ex-topic.
"I'm glad people feel that this should be an irrelevant issue; and I think we're getting there," the former Jayhawk says. "The fact that I had my own fear about coming out, and none of them were validated, it's really an incredible sign of where we are considering three-four years ago, we started legalizing gay marriage. So I think we've come a long way. Granted, I don't really think there needs to be a story about me, but it's a little bit of a different situation. But I'm glad that people are coming to the realization that sexuality doesn't matter, and even more so in the realm of competitive sports.
"If you can compete, you should be out on the field. I think players have learned that -- at least that's been my experience with my teammate reactions. They recognize me for being the guy who has a little bit of a nasty side and little bit of an (expletive) on the field, and they still expect that from me, and that's not going to change. I think that definitely has nothing to do with who you go home with at the end of the night."
The normal evolves. Ex-teammates wrote, texted or called this month to offer their support, from Houston Texans star J.J. Watt, his old running buddy with the Badgers ("This doesn't matter to me at all, and I want you to know that," Watt told him), to former KU tight end Tim Biere.
"The locker room has evolved," Thorson says. "And the place that hasn't evolved is the front office."
He'd come out to his parents 18 months earlier. The first reaction was "that I was playing some sort of terrible joke on them," Thorson recalls.
There was silence, at first. Uncomfortable, quiet laughter. More uncomfortable silence. A slow realization, a slow dawning.
"They had never encountered a masculine gay man who was also an athlete," Thorson says, "and they didn't encounter many masculine gay men at all."
Which is why Brad was justifiably proud when his father, Brian, recently sent an email that read:
Parents evolve, too.
"For a lot of people, especially people in the Midwest, I wasn't exposed to a masculine athlete that was gay," Thorson says. "So those things never went together ... I'd say, 'Well, that's another case. I play football and I like beating people up and being in the weight room, ergo I can't be gay.'"
The monster's coming.
It's not an if.
It's a when.
"Considering how long it took my own personal development, I'm impressed by a kid who can (determine) he's gay at 17 and still be a dominant force," Thorson says. "Just assuming he comes from, say, Southern California and is a wicked-armed quarterback, I mean -- I would say (it'll take) a decade.
"I hope it's less than that. But again, for me, it took a ton of self-realization."
And two tons of guts. Heisman guts.
"Are we ever going to have a gay Johnny Manziel?" Thorson asks. To this, he ponders for a few seconds. Then he laughs. "That'd be crazy."
You can follow Sean Keeler on Twitter at @SeanKeeler or email him at seanmkeeler@gmail.com.
