Home Goal and My Goal: Two Gay Footballers Stories

by H J Perry

  Scott replied, "That's part of the job. The other part is to look good enough for the cover of The Advocate when they take their tops off."

  "I heard that, Scott." Harry jogged back down the stairs.

  Harry liked hanging out with Jason's new boyfriend, Scott, and their friend, Liz. They were a refreshing change to the footballers with whom Harry spent most of his time. Harry had only met Scott a few months earlier at the beginning of the year. At the same time, he’d discovered Jason was gay.

  "Well, you do all take your shirts off at the end of a match." Scott took off up the stairs holding a suitcase in either hand. "And some of us like what we see."

  "Scott's got a point. I mean, how many of you appear in adverts in your underwear?" Liz handed a box to Harry, and she bent to pick up another. Top athletes were in demand for lucrative marketing campaigns, and they always required a certain look.

  "I haven't, and I've not thought about it much."

  This was, of course, a lie. Fit and masculine, sexy and alluring, Harry was aware of countless ad campaigns featuring his sporting colleagues, but he refused to let himself focus on those images. To do so threatened the barrier he had built around his desires and emotions. A wall built up for his own protection.

  There were no out gay footballers, and up until a few months ago, Harry thought he might be the only one. He was damn sure coming out would end his career and ruin his relationship with his family.

  "To be honest, Harry, I really appreciate your help," said Liz.

  "Happy to help you both; it isn't a burden. I'm home with not much else to do." With ease, Harry jogged up and down the steps as he spoke, holding the boxes stuffed with books and papers. The boxes formerly contained bags of frozen burgers and fries while stored and transported from warehouse to fast food burger chain, but were salvaged and recycled by students for moving home. "It's the off-season, and my only plans involve watching the Euro football matches."

  Midway between the quadrennial World Cup tournament that took place in the football off-season, the 2012 European Championship was held in eastern Europe. As a member of the national team, Jason was away playing for England at this time when most footballers enjoyed family vacations. For professional footballers, pre-season tours and training camps commenced in July each year.

  "Are you going out to watch the match tonight?" For a moment Scott looked serious. He glanced at Liz, who looked back at him with eyebrows raised.

  Scott threw his hands up in the air. "I can't believe I'm asking a bloke about whether he is planning to watch football, this is so not me."

  Liz laughed. "I know. I did wonder."

  On another return journey to the lobby, Harry reached the bottom step and made a light jab to Scott's shoulder. "That's what most blokes do, Scott. I don't know where you've been, but blokes watch the Euro."

  "Well, I'm only watching the games when England's playing so that I can drool over a certain player. Do most blokes do that as well?"

  "Scott, I'm willing to bet most blokes do not drool over the players." Harry shook his head and laughed.

  "I'll bet there are a lot of women and men who do fantasize about seeing a bit more of them," said Liz.

  "I don't need to fantasize." Scott looked at the floor, and the smile fell from his face. "Well, I do this week. He's not here. I can't wait for him to get back. Well, depending how they do tomorrow night he could be back pretty soon, but for his sake, I'm hoping they make the final. For him and for my country, it's the sacrifice I have to make when I have to wait even longer to see him."

  "I guess you're not planning on watching the match tonight then? You're welcome to watch it with me later, if I can tempt you," Harry said to Liz as she handed over a box labeled Fluid Mechanics and Hydraulics, scrawled in black marker pen.

  "No thanks. Watching your team play is quite enough for me," Liz replied. "Thankfully there's no more of that until the new season starts in August."

  "Don't be rude, Liz. Harry and Jason love football, even if we don't," said Scott.

  Liz blushed. "Sorry."

  "Don't worry about it. You are partly right, Scott. But it's our job, and like any job it has good bits and bad bits. Jason's away from you now. As players, we spend half our lives in hotels and hiding from journalists. I'm sure he'd rather be with you. This month, if England wins in the Euro, they'll all be national heroes. That's amazing. But a momentary mistake on the pitch and one of them could be demonized; it's happened to Beckham and Rooney in the past. There's a lot of pressure on the boys playing for the country."

  "Yes," Scott nodded, stopping to listen. "Do you think England stands much chance of winning?"

  "You never know with football. There's an element of luck and seizing opportunities. My church has been praying for some of the players, but I don't know if that will help. Right now England is one of the underdogs. Truth is, we have great players, but we have no recent positive experience of pulling together for the national team. I wouldn't be surprised if we're knocked out tomorrow, in which case they'll fly right back the next day. If we get through tomorrow, I'd be surprised if we win this year."

  "So we better unpack quickly and get Jason's apartment back in order before he gets home," said Scott.

  "Agreed. I don't want him regretting having me stay, even if it is for just a couple of months," said Liz.

  "It feels like you guys have lived here for months, anyway," said Harry.

  The four of them regularly hung out together in one of their homes.

  "It's hardly worth unpacking if you are all moving out again in a few weeks."

  Jason had already set in motion buying a large house to live in with Scott, and their friend Liz was welcome too. To the world, it would appear that Scott was a lodger. The world was already under the incorrect impression that Liz and Jason were dating. Harry was one of the few who knew the truth about Jason and Scott.

  "Hopefully he'll be there for longer, but depending on tomorrow's match it could be all over for England," said Harry. "You guys are still coming to watch it with me tomorrow, aren't you?"

  "Yes, absolutely, in the privacy of your apartment or ours, so we don't have the eyes of the world watching us as we watch our boyfriend on the pitch, right Liz?"

  "Are you sure you're not some threesome?" Harry knew the answer; it was something they commonly joked about.

  "I'm still on for watching England play tomorrow with you, but who do you think will win?"

  "What, tomorrow or overall?" asked Harry.

  "The whole thing. Who would you put money on to win the Euro 2012?"

  "France, Germany, Italy are all contenders. Spain is playing tonight. They won the World Cup just two years ago and are in with a strong chance of winning this thing; they're fielding a very strong team." And keeping track of at least one of the Spanish players was a part-time obsession for Harry, but he wasn't about to share that information.

  "In my opinion, of all the teams, Spain is definitely the one to watch," Harry said.

  Harry closely followed the career of one member of the Spanish team ever since a certain embarrassing episode with that player several years earlier. Carlos Garcia may hold Spanish nationality, but he spoke with a London accent, having lived in the capital most of his life.

  CHAPTER TWO

  August 2012

  CARLOS

  For a professional football player, the football club may as well be his whole life. The team dominated his existence, spending endless hours together traveling and staying in hotels. Since signing the contract a couple of days ago, Carlos had read the biography of every player on the club's website, and their Wikipedia page if they had one.

  Going straight to the locker room on his first day, Carlos avoided the cafeteria and breakfast with his teammates for his first morning at BSC. Despite his history, his personal success, and his confident persona, he dreaded this morning like an adolescent teenager changing school midway through the term.

  It was important that he made the
right impression from the outset.

  He'd met most of the starting players for the club's first team before, but only as adversaries on the pitch. Carlos didn't know them; he had no friends from his past on this team. Moving football clubs, relocating to new cities, and endless traveling made for a lonely existence.

  Alone in the locker room, it took Carlos ages to change into his training kit. He was distracted and overthinking his fears from the conversation with his agent two days ago.

  "I'm the most expensive player ever to join their team, costing even more than the record fee they paid for Jason Tant last summer. Not bad at my age. Good job, Tony," he'd said to the agent in private after the contract was signed.

  "I know you were thinking of a more high-profile team. Won't you find the pressure overwhelming to take the team up the league when they've loitered at around fifth or sixth place for the last few years?"

  Tony had been reticent about his reasons for not pushing the BSC proposal. Carlos realized it was because BSC was not considered one of the uppermost teams.

  "I may be the star striker, but it's still a team game."

  "What do you think of the other players?" The agent sat back in the chair.

  "I'm the only one who's been a European and World Cup champion. Of course, they'll treat me like a God and welcome me with open arms." Carlos's positive self-talk and bravado hid but didn't conquer his genuine fears. He wanted a friend.

  HARRY

  The notorious loudmouth Spaniard turned up at football training one week into the start of the new football season. The prima donna couldn't even work from the start of the season, unlike every other player.

  Garcia was back in Harry's life, the latest irrefutable evidence that fate was set against him, despite all his prayers. The only man who knew Harry's secret had changed into his kit, ready for training. He was still in the dressing room, sitting in the previously empty space immediately next to Harry's.

  When the locker room door closed behind him, they were alone.

  Carlos sat on the bench, doing up his laces by pure dreadful chance. Eyes down and focused on his fingers, he didn't seem to notice Harry, who let his gaze wander over the taut, tanned skin of the footballer's limbs for a fraction too long before focusing on the spiky black hair. There was a lot of product in that hair.

  They were alone.

  Harry's stomach did somersaults.

  The real moment they almost came face-to-face in the changing room was even worse than anticipated.

  Surely Carlos wouldn't have deliberately chosen that part of the bench on which to pile his clothes when he stripped before and after training sessions. Not the empty place next to Harry.

  Carlos looked up. "Hi."

  "Who are you?" Harry got the quip in quickly. A joke. It could hardly be a put-down; everyone knew Carlos Garcia was joining Birmingham City South Football Club. Everyone in football recognized the top Spanish international player.

  "Do you play football?" Carlos came back with the witty reply. He had a smile on his face as he stood up and held out a hand to Harry.

  "You didn't research the team you were joining then, Carlos?"

  "Harry, you know I did. And, by the way, I can give you a lift home after work in a decent car while you save up to buy one of your own."

  They were then on to the well-trodden road of locker room banter: my car is better than yours, I've got more money than you. It was familiar, but in this case very true. Harry didn't need to Google the football star's net wealth to know that this two-time International Cup winner had already made a mega fortune that made Harry's weekly wage look pathetic.

  "That's kind of you, but I wouldn't want you to drive out of your way, as I live in a poor suburban shantytown." There's no winning the one-upmanship game with a player like Carlos, so Harry took the small talk in the direction of British style self-depreciation.

  "I hope it's not that bad. I've moved into the same building as you, into Tant's old home. That's why I'm offering you a lift, not because I fancy you." Carlos sat down and raised his right foot in order to adjust his laces. "Maybe I'll have to find somewhere else to live if it's that bad."

  Shocked at discovering Carlos would be close to him outside work as well as right there in the locker room, Harry was saved from finding some witty reply when the door burst open. Two more foreign players walked in, the Italian, Davide, and Emmanuel from Nigeria. When they saw Carlos, a fresh load of introductions and greetings began, while more and more men trailed into the locker room.

  Changing into his kit in silence, Harry kept an ear tuned in for an early alert if his fears became reality. He wondered if, when, and how things were going to turn unpleasant. It was just a matter of time before Carlos told all about that embarrassing night.

  Unless his luck changed. There was no way Harry would expose Jason, and just maybe Carlos would not expose Harry.

  Harry felt distinctly nervous, even a little sick, standing in the locker room with the guy he'd been crushing on for years. He was the only person who knew Harry's secret.

  Listening to the conversation, it dawned on Harry that he should have offered a friendlier welcome to the new player. Congratulations for his recent Euro Cup victory were in order. Harry felt like a bit of a dick for opting for self-defensive banter.

  It was a mistake coming to the locker rooms early, trying to avoid the crowd that formed in a rush minutes before training was due to start.

  CARLOS

  His first locker room exchange with one of the players didn't go quite the way he'd intended. Carlos aimed to win friends on the team, and Harry was one of the players Carlos had hoped to bond with, particularly since they would be neighbors.

  Carlos had committed to memory the profile of every player. His research revealed Harry was a homegrown product of BSC, and a local Birmingham-born lad. He joined the club as an apprentice, age sixteen, and was still there eight years on. He was a good player, evidenced by the fact BCS kept him on with a long, lucrative contract instead of selling him.

  Harry had earned his right to the quiet self-confidence he displayed, in contrast to Carlos. Personal insecurity, the desire for popularity, and the need to fit in compelled Carlos to fidget and talk nonsense in an attempt to entertain in the locker room. He couldn't help it; he always drew attention to himself.

  Davide and Emmanuel greeted their newest teammate warmly when they entered the locker room. They congratulated him on his Euro. Carlos enjoyed their welcome. Shortly afterward he heard the language of his childhood.

  "Hola, Carlos. Felicitaciones."

  The highly recognizable English national team player greeted him with congratulations in Spanish. Jason clapped, and one by one, every player in the locker room joined in the applause. The locker room became packed with more and more men who came to investigate the noise. Soon there was raucous cheering echoing within the chamber.

  This is the reception he would have gotten if Carlos had returned to his previous London-based football club, where he was popular. He didn't expect it here as the newcomer. He appreciated the gesture, especially led by this team's star player.

  Pride competed with embarrassment as the noise died down.

  In Spanish, a language that most of the players probably wouldn't understand, Carlos addressed the leader of the compliment.

  "Jason Tant, que eligió el equipo equivocado?"

  Carlos asked Jason if he thought he'd chosen the wrong team. Jason played for England, the country of his and his father's birth. It was a nation that hadn't won any international tournaments for decades. He could have played for his mother's country, Spain, alongside Carlos. Spain had an unprecedented run of success, two Euro Championships, and the 2010 World Cup.

  Carlos had played in the Cup final at two of these international events. The recent Euro was massive, gaining an audience around the size of the US population. To play on the winning team in a World Cup final was something most boys would give up a kidney to experience. One in seven peopl
e watched it, all over the world, which made Carlos a household name from to China to Peru.

  "Nunca consideré España. Maybe I should have thought a little harder about which country I was going to represent." Jason offered his hand to shake as more men gathered around, like the fans who tried to touch him, as if football magic fell from his shoulders.

  "Thanks, everyone." Carlos looked around to include everyone in the conversation, not just Jason. "I'm pleased to be here, as the most expensive player bought by BSC football club. Sorry Jason, I took that title from you as well as winning the Euro. And, to make it a hat trick, I've moved into your old apartment too."

  "You're fast. I only moved out last week. Bought a lovely big house not far from there."

  "I moved in yesterday. I just couldn't get here for the start of the season last week." Carlos didn't elaborate on the extended vacation period he'd granted himself.

  Carlos soon forgot about the awkward start to the morning, and meeting Harry, as he chatted with the other players. Most knew a lot about him, but some were surprised by his excellent English.

  "I've just spent two and a half months speaking Spanish, but don't forget I've lived in England most of my life. I played for English youth soccer teams."

  "Have you met Harry Carter, one of our midfielders?" Jason asked. He walked over to where Harry stood, folding his discarded clothes and putting his arm around Harry's shoulder. "He stays quiet in the corner here, but he is the team's secret weapon on the pitch. The other side doesn't see him coming. And he lives in the same building as you."

  "Yeah, we were just talking. And we've probably met before. I don't know whether you remember, Harry? I was reading your bio the other day, and I'd be surprised if our paths didn't cross when we were in the youth teams."