Straights are glad to be part of Games - Common ground found in competition and camaraderie
THE GAY GAMES
Straights are glad to be part of Games - Common ground found in competition and camaraderie
By Josh Noel
Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune
Published July 21, 2006
As a veteran of gay sporting events, Phillip Runions has one piece of advice that might help his fellow straight competitors at this week's Gay Games.
"Every once in a while, you might get hit on," Runions said. "You've just got to look at it as a compliment and move on."
That wisdom from the 46-year-old food importer comes after more than 20 years of playing softball in gay Chicago leagues. But with that exception, Runions said, competing in a gay sport is about the same as competing in any sport.
"For the most part, you can't tell who's what," said Runions, who is playing in his first Gay Games as pitcher for a softball team. "Most of these guys are competitive and want to do well. So do I."
Though athletes are not required to disclose their sexuality at the Gay Games, a majority do, and about 5 percent have identified themselves as straight, officials said. Non-gay competitors say they were motivated to join one of the world's largest gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender sporting events for the opportunity to compete in their favorite sport, be it ice hockey, ballroom dancing or figure skating.
But if some observers interpret their participation as a political statement for gay rights, that's OK with them too.
Although the Gay Games were started in 1982 to empower gay athletes and provide a place where they could compete without fear or prejudice, excluding straight people would be hypocritical, said Derek Liecty, a longtime member of the Federation of Gay Games board.
"We don't want to be discriminatory like we feel other sporting groups might be if they knew someone was gay or lesbian," he said.
There is also a hope that the acceptance extended to straight people in the Games will be returned to gay people.
"If we don't discriminate, then why should people discriminate against gays and lesbians?" Liecty said.
Commissioner on squad
Cook County Commissioner Mike Quigley already plays ice hockey a couple times per week, so when he was asked to join a Gay Games team as a right wing, he didn't think twice. His team will be playing for a bronze medal Friday.
When the five Republican commissioners withdrew their names from a proclamation welcoming the Games to Chicago last year, Quigley, a Democrat, said he was even more pleased to have signed up.
"Then it became more important than just the enjoyment of the game," Quigley said. "What I do as an elected official sends a message."
Quigley, who in 2003 sponsored a domestic partnership registry allowing gay and lesbian couples to formally record their relationship, said the message is simple: He welcomes the Gay Games to Chicago and supports gay rights.
On the ice, he said, skating with gay players is no different than skating with heterosexual men.
"When you are playing sports and you're counting on the person next to you, you're not thinking about someone's gender, age, race or orientation," Quigley said. "You don't have time to even think about [it]. That's one of the beauties of sports."
Kelsey McMurray of New York City, who performed in last weekend's cheerleading exhibition in Millennium Park, came to indulge her passion for cheerleading.
She called her experience in Chicago, particularly at opening ceremonies in Soldier Field, "amazing." She said she ran across the grass at midnight while carrying a tie-dyed flag.
"I don't know any other situation where I'd be able to do something like that," she said. "We were all hugging and crying. It was very emotional, a lot of bonding."
McMurray, 23, said she knew few gay people growing up in Colorado.
"The fact that it is people struggling for their rights--gay rights and gay marriage--I just felt being part of the Gay Games would be supporting a group that is struggling," she said.
"I'm sure there are people who wonder why I do it or who think I'm gay and I don't want to admit it, but it's just so much fun."
When Runions was recruited to join a softball team with gays in 1981, he acknowledged he was hesitant. Growing up in Tennessee, he hadn't met many gay people and he was unsure about joining the team.
Teammates now friends
But the upper-division teams in gay softball leagues turned out to be pretty good, and many of his teammates became friends.
Now his 28-year-old daughter plays on a lower-level team in the same league, and Runions' experience made it easier to understand when a relative came out as a lesbian in the late 1980s.
Agreeing to play in the Gay Games for a team sponsored by Sidetrack, a Chicago gay bar, was a no-brainer, said Runions, one of two straight men on the team.
While the Games aren't as fun as the Gay Softball World Series, which brings together 150 teams that are at least 80 percent gay from across the country, they are inspiring, he said.
"I think this is great," Runions said. "They can be themselves. They don't have to hide or anything."
He also plays for a straight team but continues to participate in the gay league. The players, after all, are his friends.
"I'm really accepted as one of them," he said.
----------
jbnoel@tribune.com
Straights are glad to be part of Games - Common ground found in competition and camaraderie
By Josh Noel
Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune
Published July 21, 2006
As a veteran of gay sporting events, Phillip Runions has one piece of advice that might help his fellow straight competitors at this week's Gay Games.
"Every once in a while, you might get hit on," Runions said. "You've just got to look at it as a compliment and move on."
That wisdom from the 46-year-old food importer comes after more than 20 years of playing softball in gay Chicago leagues. But with that exception, Runions said, competing in a gay sport is about the same as competing in any sport.
"For the most part, you can't tell who's what," said Runions, who is playing in his first Gay Games as pitcher for a softball team. "Most of these guys are competitive and want to do well. So do I."
Though athletes are not required to disclose their sexuality at the Gay Games, a majority do, and about 5 percent have identified themselves as straight, officials said. Non-gay competitors say they were motivated to join one of the world's largest gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender sporting events for the opportunity to compete in their favorite sport, be it ice hockey, ballroom dancing or figure skating.
But if some observers interpret their participation as a political statement for gay rights, that's OK with them too.
Although the Gay Games were started in 1982 to empower gay athletes and provide a place where they could compete without fear or prejudice, excluding straight people would be hypocritical, said Derek Liecty, a longtime member of the Federation of Gay Games board.
"We don't want to be discriminatory like we feel other sporting groups might be if they knew someone was gay or lesbian," he said.
There is also a hope that the acceptance extended to straight people in the Games will be returned to gay people.
"If we don't discriminate, then why should people discriminate against gays and lesbians?" Liecty said.
Commissioner on squad
Cook County Commissioner Mike Quigley already plays ice hockey a couple times per week, so when he was asked to join a Gay Games team as a right wing, he didn't think twice. His team will be playing for a bronze medal Friday.
When the five Republican commissioners withdrew their names from a proclamation welcoming the Games to Chicago last year, Quigley, a Democrat, said he was even more pleased to have signed up.
"Then it became more important than just the enjoyment of the game," Quigley said. "What I do as an elected official sends a message."
Quigley, who in 2003 sponsored a domestic partnership registry allowing gay and lesbian couples to formally record their relationship, said the message is simple: He welcomes the Gay Games to Chicago and supports gay rights.
On the ice, he said, skating with gay players is no different than skating with heterosexual men.
"When you are playing sports and you're counting on the person next to you, you're not thinking about someone's gender, age, race or orientation," Quigley said. "You don't have time to even think about [it]. That's one of the beauties of sports."
Kelsey McMurray of New York City, who performed in last weekend's cheerleading exhibition in Millennium Park, came to indulge her passion for cheerleading.
She called her experience in Chicago, particularly at opening ceremonies in Soldier Field, "amazing." She said she ran across the grass at midnight while carrying a tie-dyed flag.
"I don't know any other situation where I'd be able to do something like that," she said. "We were all hugging and crying. It was very emotional, a lot of bonding."
McMurray, 23, said she knew few gay people growing up in Colorado.
"The fact that it is people struggling for their rights--gay rights and gay marriage--I just felt being part of the Gay Games would be supporting a group that is struggling," she said.
"I'm sure there are people who wonder why I do it or who think I'm gay and I don't want to admit it, but it's just so much fun."
When Runions was recruited to join a softball team with gays in 1981, he acknowledged he was hesitant. Growing up in Tennessee, he hadn't met many gay people and he was unsure about joining the team.
Teammates now friends
But the upper-division teams in gay softball leagues turned out to be pretty good, and many of his teammates became friends.
Now his 28-year-old daughter plays on a lower-level team in the same league, and Runions' experience made it easier to understand when a relative came out as a lesbian in the late 1980s.
Agreeing to play in the Gay Games for a team sponsored by Sidetrack, a Chicago gay bar, was a no-brainer, said Runions, one of two straight men on the team.
While the Games aren't as fun as the Gay Softball World Series, which brings together 150 teams that are at least 80 percent gay from across the country, they are inspiring, he said.
"I think this is great," Runions said. "They can be themselves. They don't have to hide or anything."
He also plays for a straight team but continues to participate in the gay league. The players, after all, are his friends.
"I'm really accepted as one of them," he said.
----------
jbnoel@tribune.com
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