Home Goal and My Goal: Two Gay Footballers Stories

by H J Perry

  "Yes. I think we've played on the pitch together as teenagers, but on opposing teams."

  HARRY

  Harry stood by, aware of the interaction and ignored until Jason dragged him back to the center of attention.

  Harry and Jason were usually among the first men arriving at the club every morning. The first changed, and the first out on the pitch, getting warmed up for training. Only recently, since discovering Jason's sexuality, Harry wondered if arriving at work early was a gay thing, but quickly dismissed that ridiculous notion.

  Jason was an elite player, along with Eric, the straight and married team captain. The thing that set them apart was the long hours and dedication they gave to training. They were never late.

  Harry didn't share that dedication. He loved the game and pushed himself to give his best performance, but he couldn't fully focus on the sport when battling the demons in his head. He was always hiding, denying, and suppressing one aspect of his character.

  Why wasn't Jason already on the pitch? He was usually one of the first in the locker room and already outside while others were just pulling up to park their cars.

  Instead, Jason was in the locker room bringing up the very time in Harry's life that he hoped Carlos would forget.

  Carlos must have been toying with him.

  There was no way he didn't remember.

  Embarrassing moments are always the most memorable.

  Harry looked at Garcia's face, Garcia looked back into his eyes, and before giving him the chance to think about their last meeting, Harry spoke. They played against each other in at least one youth match. It was a long time ago.

  The facts were easy to verify. As teenagers at the top of the youth league, they had played opposite each other. No point in denying it. No point in pretending they hadn't met before.

  What other facts were going to emerge from their past? That was up to Carlos. Ever since that one and only indiscretion, Harry had buried those feelings.

  "You got a girlfriend coming with you?" asked Davide.

  "No. I'm free and eager to try out all the local Birmingham hotties," replied Carlos. "What's it like around here?"

  "There are plenty of girls to go around. Wouldn't you say so, Harry?"

  In the space right next to Carlos, the newest member of the team, it was inevitable Harry would be drawn into conversations. Even ones he'd like to avoid. When he took too long to reply, Carlos spoke instead.

  "Harry, you're a Birmingham veteran of the team. You'll have to show me around the city."

  Would Garcia say anything? Sitting there like a ticking time bomb, waiting to expose Harry at any time?

  CHAPTER THREE

  September 2012

  HARRY

  "You can bet on anything: The final score for a game; which players are going to be picked to sit on the reserve bench; who is going to score the first goal."

  Scott stood up and paced across Harry's sitting room.

  "Let's say one in ten men are gay. It might be less than that, five percent or seven percent, but ten percent is a nice round number for this example."

  Harry forced himself not to slump in his seat. He already suspected he'd soon regret asking the question.

  "So if there were eleven men playing on your football team at the last football match, how many of the players were gay?"

  Harry gulped. It was as if Scott knew more about Harry than he was prepared to admit to anyone other than himself.

  "One, and it's Jason." Harry knew this answer was wrong, and he already regretted asking Scott to help him understand gambling.

  "Wrong answer." Scott looked Harry in the eye.

  Could Scott see that Harry knew the answer was two?

  Jason and Harry.

  Harry held his nerve; he was not coming out to Scott today. "If someone had said that to me last year I would have said none, there are no gay footballers, so the statistics must be wrong or something."

  "The point about gambling is you are making predictions based on statistics, but would you bet money on it?"

  "What is the correct answer?" Harry had never told anyone, but he finally wanted to share the burden of this secret with Scott. And it wasn't the first time that year.

  "Let me put it this way. Jason's sent off; the team is down to ten men, and you know one in ten people is gay."

  The sentences sounded simple. Harry shook his head, feeling as if Scott was goading him to come out. He understood the words but had no idea what Scott was talking about.

  "We don't know. Unless you have some particular information, we just don't know. There might be no gay players, or there could be two or three. And that's why you shouldn't gamble high stakes on random chance."

  "Give me a different example." Perhaps the focus on gay football players distracted Harry from understanding Scott's point. "Not football related."

  Despite becoming the best of friends, the time was never the right time to confess that Harry was gay too. In a way, as time went on it became harder to admit, because he should have owned up sooner rather than later to Scott, Jason, and Liz. But on the other hand, without any actual boyfriend, there was nothing to tell anyone.

  Nothing to tell about his physical experience.

  Precisely zero.

  But Harry's sexuality wasn't nothing. It wasn't as if he had no interest. He definitely had the interest.

  Scott put his right hand in his pocket and dug around until he pulled out a small pile of change. "If I toss a coin, it has an even chance of landing heads or tails, right? Suppose I've already thrown it five times and every time it landed on heads. It can happen. I'm about to toss again, what do you bet on and why?"

  "Heads, because I think it is a dodgy coin."

  Scott threw his head back and let out a laugh. He sat down on the sofa with a shimmy. Always so graceful, he moved as if he danced everywhere.

  "You have to be different. Most people say tails is more likely after having heads three times, never mind five. But you're saying heads is more likely. Are you sticking with that answer?"

  "Yes."

  "Either is wrong. No matter how many times you throw heads in the past, each toss is a unique event with a fifty-fifty chance of turning up either side."

  "I get what you're saying there. But I don't know how it will help me not lose every single bet."

  "Another example." Scott raised his hands, palms toward Harry. "In my class at school, there were twelve kids."

  "Really? Just twelve?" Harry wrinkled his brow.

  "Yes. You know my parents paid for my education. I've told you before that I went to a private school." Scott nodded. "But that's not the point."

  "Yes. Sorry. I remember. But twelve! My classes were always thirty-something. No wonder I don't get math."

  "Out of twelve kids who randomly turned up at this school, do you think our birthdays were spread over twelve months?" He was animated as he spoke, clear skin and shining eyes with a liberated enthusiasm for life and learning. Scott seemed so unshackled in a way that Harry never felt, except perhaps when he forgot everything else on the football pitch and ran after that ball like it was what he was born to do.

  "I think I see where this is going."

  "If I said eight out of the twelve had birthdays in just two months of the year, would you think that was random?"

  "No, of course, that's not random."

  "Harry, it is random. What do you think is random?"

  "Spread out through the year, of course." Harry just knew the obvious answer was going to be wrong, which is why he lost his shirt on every bet he made with his teammates.

  "If our birthdays were spread out evenly through the year, that wouldn't be random, that would be a pattern."

  "I don't understand. What is this trickery?"

  "I know you don't get it." There was a pitying look on Scott's face. "There are formulae for predicting probability, but for gambling purposes, you are best off only betting what you are willing to lose, and expect to lose unless y
ou know the answer for certain. And believe me, random is not quite what you think it's going to be."

  Harry had never met anyone like Scott. He was totally unique, a blend of feminine and masculine; and so different from football players. He could appear frivolous, but in conversation, his warm spirit and massive intellect soon showed. Harry could understand why Jason loved Scott; Harry loved him too, as a friend.

  Scott was perfect best-friend material, not the kind of guy Harry wanted as a boyfriend.

  Harry didn't want what he'd never had. He was certain homosexuality was the route to losing his family, his career, and many of his friends. He'd learned that through his church. Harry did all he could to suppress his urges and emotions. It was a battle he was sure he couldn't win.

  "Are you trying to tell me there's no formula for gambling?"

  "There's no easy formula unless you have some extra information. But a lot of people make the mistake of thinking random means spread out evenly."

  "Cheers," said Harry. "I hoped talking to a numbers geek about gambling would help me win."

  Scott grinned. "Applying mathematics to gambling is a bit of a specialist field and still no guarantee of easy money, or else we'd all be doing it."

  "I spent a load of my life traveling and sleeping in hotels with a bunch of young guys who've got far too much money. You know what we do to pass the time? Gamble. Gambling isn't compulsory, but you have no idea how many hours of boredom we have to endure. We bet on all sorts of shit. It's a bit of fun to pass the time, and it all gets quite ridiculous, but I don't think I've ever won. Not ever."

  "Even if I explain the formula, P equals N over N, you'd still lose your money. That's my point."

  Harry got up and walked to his fridge in the small kitchen area of his large open-plan living room. He pulled out a couple of beers, removed the bottle caps, and took them back to the sofa area. Scott was still nursing his first beer, so Harry put the second on the table.

  "So how's the new guy at work?"

  "Which one? There are a few. It's that time of year. Transfer season just ended on the first of September."

  "Jason told me there was a new guy. Someone Spanish. I know he likes having someone he can speak to in Spanish."

  "Yeah, Garcia. He's a great player and we're lucky to have him. He was on the winning team in Europe and played in the World Cup final a few years back, again, for the winning team."

  Scott raised his eyes. "Sounds impressive."

  "His parents are Spanish, so he plays for Spain as his national team. He's lived here most of his life. But when it comes to league matches, he's always played for teams here in the English Premier League. I played one or two youth matches with him many years ago." Harry was keen to change the subject away from the new player. "So, what time are you expecting Jason home tonight?"

  "Late. I don't know. He's gonna call me when he is on his way, but he's got to get back from London. I've got a load of stuff to prepare for college, but I'm still in summer holiday mode at the moment. It'll be hard to start concentrating again when I'd much rather come around here, hang out with friends, and drink beer." Scott placed his empty bottle on the table and picked up the full one. He looked thoughtfully at the label for a moment, then added, "Or go dancing. You should come dancing, Harry."

  "Football players don't dance," said Harry. "You should know that by now."

  "I think the saying is, 'straight boys don't dance,' but it doesn't have to be true."

  Scott looked at Harry as if daring him to confirm or deny his sexuality. Harry had an uncomfortable feeling that Scott suspected, and over the months he'd given Harry plenty of opportunity to speak up, but he'd never pushed the issue.

  The sudden knock at the door made Harry jump. Saved.

  "I'm not expecting anyone." Harry stood up and walked through the double doors into the entrance vestibule.

  "We can safely say the statistics lesson is over for today," Scott replied before Harry reached the door.

  Harry opened the door and stared at his fellow team member in amazement, for a moment that was just a little too long to be polite.

  "Hi. Come in." Harry swung the door wide open and stepped clear.

  "Greetings." Carlos stepped through the entrance, moved toward the sitting room, and then stopped dead in his tracks. "Hi," he said to Scott before turning to Harry. "If I'm interrupting I can go."

  "If you were interrupting, I wouldn't have invited you in," replied Harry. "Carlos, this is Scott. He used to live in your apartment. Scott, this is Carlos, he's just moved in below and joined the team."

  Carlos walked over to Scott with his hand held out to shake it and Scott stood up for the greeting.

  "Good to meet you," said Scott. "It's a welcome interruption. You've been saved, Harry. We were talking mathematics."

  Harry thought they were talking about the number of gay men in professional football.

  "You used to live below?" Confusion showed on Carlos's face.

  Harry was mentally kicking himself. Not the best introduction. It slipped out before he'd had time to think. This wasn't the best bit of information to tell Carlos about Scott.

  "In the spare room," said Scott. "I was Jason's lodger for a month or two." They all knew Jason didn't need a lodger. Scott apparently felt compelled to elaborate. "I needed a place to stay, and he had space."

  Harry's stomach churned with regret at having put Scott in this position, where he had to make up some cover story for the fact that he lived with his closeted boyfriend. Scott was a guest, and Harry wanted him to feel relaxed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  September 2012

  CARLOS

  Harry took an age to open the door and then shuffled about uncomfortably. He stood behind the door in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, holding a bottle of beer. There was a slight but noticeable delay before the pleased-to-see-you look covered Harry's face.

  Carlos wondered what he'd interrupted, and he felt awkward.

  "Hi, Carlos, this is a surprise." Harry swung the door open and made way for Carlos to step through. "Come on in." Recently having moved into the apartment below, Carlos was familiar with the layout.

  Relieved that he was welcomed into Harry's home, Carlos feared he'd stand on the doorstep grasping for an excuse to explain his presence, perhaps beg to borrow a drop of milk, a DVD, or a clean towel. He stepped into the home and his head automatically turned toward the living room.

  The apartment had an identical layout as his on the floor below. There was a large entrance hallway with several doors leading to bedrooms, a closet, a visitor's bathroom, and double doors leading to an open-plan living area.

  "Come and let me introduce you." Harry introduced Scott.

  The Scott.

  The footballer's gossip circuit had already told Carlos about Scott.

  Scott placed his beer bottle on the table and stood up, holding out a hand in greeting.

  "It's a welcome interruption. You're saved, Harry. We were talking mathematics."

  Scott wore tight pink jeans—or were they purple—and what could be described as a white shirt, if it weren't for the tiny pink flowers all over it? Not real flowers, a pattern, but definitely pink.

  "Oh God. Mathematics," Carlos said on instinct. It seemed the right thing to say.

  Harry's hand was on Carlos's shoulder, guiding him to a chair. "Scott is a numbers genius at Birmingham University."

  They exchanged some polite conversation that barely registered in Carlos's mind as other thoughts ticked over and clicked into place. Carlos had only been at the football club for a week, but he'd already heard about Scott, and after unexpectedly meeting him in person he tried to remember what he'd heard.

  Carlos remembered the name, Scott. The description seemed accurate. The team rumor mill worked well, and he couldn't remember who'd first filled him in that along with his girlfriend, Liz, Jason had a flamboyantly gay friend living with him.

  Apparently, he was a theatrical and ostentatious m
an, obviously gay, who suddenly appeared regularly at team events toward the end of last season. Of course, Carlos hadn't heard the stories in Jason's presence. There were just a few comments when Jason wasn't around.

  "Carlos, as in Garcia, the new man on the team?"

  "Yes, I signed the contract at the start of the season."

  It was two weeks ago, but this was the first time in Harry's apartment. The guy was never around, and never in the locker room. It was like he was avoiding Carlos.

  "How are you settling in the team?" Scott was tall and slender and good-looking.

  Carlos had already heard about all of the players' living arrangements. He hadn't given it too much thought, as gossips ran through the private lives of all of the team, including their wives, girlfriends, and in some cases their extended families. Carlos didn't remember anything about Scott being a mathematics genius. That detail hadn't been mentioned. Neither had anyone bothered to mention that he was both stunning to look at, but with a warm and friendly personality.

  "All's good, so far." Carlos glanced at Harry for confirmation of his assessment.

  "Yes, you're a star player, so of course you've settled in."

  Again, Carlos wondered what he'd interrupted. Boyfriends? Lovers? There was something not right about Harry. Why hadn't he invited Carlos up for a social drink and chat?

  "Sit down, Carlos," said Harry. "Can I get you a beer?"

  It was exactly what he wanted; an invitation without questions on why he was there.

  Why was he there? Because he was in a strange city where he had no mates. The nearest convenient person was Harry. It's not like he'd bonded with Harry at the football club. Not in any way.

  "Nice shirt, by the way," Carlos said.

  "Thanks," Scott replied.

  "If I'd have known you were coming, I would have warned you to put on sunglasses. Things this bright are typical of Scott." Harry handed Carlos a bottle of beer. "Do you want a glass?"