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Diary of a Gay Super Bowl Virgin By Dan Majerle
Also:
Dan's Diary of a Gay Games Virgin
"I'm sorry that I got you into this," I told Rick that night in his car after a football social and impromptu birthday party at Gym Bar. It had started to rain—we'd ducked into his car just in time. "It's not your fault," he said. "We can get through the games if even a couple of these subs come through, but not having an experienced quarterback is going to kill us." Rick was a solid player himself and I'd convinced him to choose Dallas over a softball tournament in DC that weekend. It was the first time I'd seen him in three weeks and he was one of the many reasons that I was really looking forward to this trip. He didn't hold me responsible, but I felt bad for getting him involved when it might either not be fun or not happen at all. Things started to look up over the next couple of days, however. Rumors of picking up a few extra players began to circulate, and in spite of chaotic email strings with changing rosters and new names constantly being thrown into the mix, it looked like we'd be playing after all. In the days when I thought that the team might have to cancel I'd decided on making the trip either way. After all, my host Texas Brian, whom I'd met during the Gay Games, had generously cleared his weekend for me and was planning on showing me everything that Dallas had to offer. I told myself that it would be a great weekend anyway. The Gay Games would have been just as memorable without football, right? Wrong. Things were different since the Gay Games and I was hungry to play. My confidence in my game had improved drastically; in the fall season opener in the New York Gay Football League the previous Saturday, I somehow scored a league-high three touchdowns (after only pulling in two during the entire last season), but more importantly I got through the game without any embarrassing dropped passes. My issues with catching the ball all but disappeared in the course of a single game. I had to play. Then a Monday morning email from Big Brother Seth: "I happen to be free this weekend and couldn't resist. Just need to find an affordable fare down there now."
He throws a pretty mean ball for a straight guy, too. The Bad Apples were back in business. Dan's Gay Shameful Moment of the Week: When I got to the airport in Dallas, Texas Brian (right, in orange) told me he'd be picking me up in his dark blue Z33. Five minutes later I shamefully called him back admitting that I didn't know what that meant. It was a mustang. Emerging from the mustang was the same big, hunky, full-of-life guy that I'd met at the Gay Games over two months earlier. He kissed me, cracked open a Bud Light, and we sped off (I guess there are no open container laws in Texas). "So I should probably explain something to you," I'd said to him on the phone a couple of nights before. "I've been sort of seeing this guy on my team for a few months. He's not a boyfriend and probably not ever going to be. We both see other people. And I think the whole thing is probably going to run into a brick wall sooner rather than later. I hope that's cool with you." Of course it was cool with him. Like I said, I have this way of finding the kind of rare, chilled-out laid back gay guys that most people probably don't think exist. They do, and they all play sports.
As a team we started out slow but dominated the second half, winning our first game. We weren't able to officially play our second game versus the Alabama Slammers, as they were forced to forfeit due to a lack of players. Instead we had a scrimmage in which my teammate Jordan (right, No. 1) and I joined the Slammers. It was a good time and they're a great bunch of guys, but I was still feeling under the weather and glad to be done with football for the day. Outside of the 100-degree fever and an incident involving a scrawny, underage, pierced, purple-haired twink at the hotel pool party, it was a good day. We sort of got screwed on the pairings on day two of the tournament, as we faced the defending champion Chicago Flames two games in a row. They were in our division for pool play, and after they beat us in that first game we somehow ended up against them for the first playoff game as well. I would have loved to take them down after my tragic 72-0 loss against them as a member of the Texas Bulls during the Gay Games, but they were a very solid team. Very fast, aggressive and smart, and I just wish we didn't have to play them so early in the playoffs. They beat us in both games. I didn't play a lot in game two, and the fact that I'd suddenly been replaced on both offense and defense with no explanation by none other than Rick was a little difficult to deal with. In my brief time on the field however I managed to score an awkward, twisting in the air, falling-on-my-ass touchdown that I'm pretty sure even got props from #27.
On Sunday morning we lost our consolation game to Atlanta. I was pretty burnt out by that point and I think the team was too. I thought that the two teams were pretty evenly matched, but they had a couple of really fast guys who just outran us one too many times and we lost. I've found that this happens all too often in flag football. Dan's Lesson Learned for the Day:
Back to Rick. We played pretty much the same positions and in the Atlanta game we continually came in and out of the game for each other. At one point it occurred to me while high-fiving him that no straight person in the history of athletic competition has ever been in this situation. I was still upset about what had happened on Friday at the pool party and over how things had gone in the past few months in general. A part of me felt like at age 25 I really should have known better than to tag along with someone who did not share my intentions, but regardless I knew that he never meant me any specific harm. I couldn't make a big gay scene, and yet I couldn't let this one go either. I decided to wait until the right time. "Rick, I adore you but I can't date you anymore," was how it came out in his hotel room just after the football banquet. "Well," he said after a long silence, "I could see that you've been mad at me all weekend." "There's a little more to it than that," I replied. "It's not a threat or an ultimatum, it's just how I feel and you needed to know. I think that you probably feel the same way and I just wish you'd have told me sooner."
And that was that. We all went to Mickey's where he bought me a beer and promptly disappeared for most of the night. I saw him a few times soaking in the attention of a different and slightly more acceptable twink and it didn't get to me in the way it would have had we not had that conversation. As I watched the two of them slink around a corner together, Dallas Bulls Coach Becker walked up to me looking as handsome as ever and put a big arm around me. I remembered what I'd written about him during the Gay Games. A lot of the people you meet through gay sports are going to be in your life for a long time, and most of them you're lucky to have. I turned around to find Texas Brian with all of my NYC friends, making everyone laugh and befriending them one-by-one as he was so gifted at doing. I sat down next to him and I don't think his hand left mine for the entire night. I had so much fun with him and my fellow New Yorkers that I won't forget that night for a long time. That's what it's all about: Not chasing after new flames or old ones, but making lasting connections with the wonderful people who are already in your life, the ones you will be with at Gym Bar or at GayBowl XVI in ten years. I'll get over the fact that I didn't get to play much in game three, and that night is what I'll take away from my first GayBowl experience. "Have a good flight Dan, love you," Texas Brian said as we exchanged our final goodbyes at the airport. "Love you too," I said. "Let's get you to New York soon." I turned around to smile and wave as I stepped onto the escalator and he waved back. On a chance I turned around at the top to get one last glimpse of him and got a little choked up when I saw him, almost out of sight, waiting until I'd made it all the way to the top. This guy was for real.
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The
drama began on my 25th birthday exactly one week before I
left for Dallas with an email from the quarterback and team captain
of the New York Bad Apples. For work-related reasons, he pulled out
of the tournament, and he was taking another teammate with him. An
email from another team member backing out followed minutes later,
leaving us with a total of 7 players. The New York Bad Apples had
suddenly turned from a solid team that had the potential to take the
whole tournament into a short-handed squad with no quarterback that
would be lucky to make it through the weekend in once piece.
Was
this really happening? Seth was my quarterback in the league last
year and is basically the reason I still play the game. If this
season is supposed to be my 'breakout' season, then last season was
definitely my 'coming of age' season and Seth was a huge part of
that. The guy is like a big brother to me and NEVER lost faith in me
no matter what happened on the field or how much I beat myself up
afterwards. There is nobody in the world I'd rather have at
quarterback in Dallas than Big Brother Seth. 
On
Friday morning we had our first pool play game against the Phoenix
Hellraisers at 11:00 AM. I'd been feeling pretty sick since I got
off the plane, with a sore throat and even a fever in the morning. I
started on both offense and defense and managed to get through the
game just fine, other than being a little distracted by their
amazingly attractive quarterback. In only a brief conversation later
that night (and with a brief grope from him on Sunday at Mickey's),
he'd managed to replace #27 from Chicago as my No. 1 gay football
crush, at least until Gay Bowl VII in NYC. Much love to #24.
Back
to Texas Brian. Following our second loss that day I came to the
conclusion that he is the most fun person that I have ever known.
Good Lord. By the time my second game was over he'd already been
drinking for about four hours and I had some catching up to do. He'd
brought two cases of beer and a couple of friends to the field, and
they were nearly finished with it all by the end of the games on
Saturday. By that point a banana had been grossly misused, an Asian
from Chicago had been offended, one of the L.A.
"everybody-look-at-me-I'm-not-wearing-a-shirt" pretty boys had
urinated on his roommate's foot, and everyone had seen Brian's ass.
I have so much to learn.
Never
whine about your lack of playing time to enormously tall, curly
haired loudmouth New Yorkers who lack the ability to think before
they speak. My first catch when I finally got into the game was met
with a loud "MY NAME'S DAN, WAH WAH, I NEVER GET TO PLAY! BOO HOO!"
I wanted to crawl into a hold and die. Lesson learned. Paul needs to
stop calling me a twink and sending me dirty texts, too.
"We're
not going to discuss it right here and now," he said while opening
the door and stepping out in the hallway. "We've both been drinking
and people are waiting on us. Let's talk about it at home."