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SportsMay 1, 2019

A gay man’s response to Australian cricketer James Faulkner ‘coming out’

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Cricketer James Faulkner ‘came out’ on social media this week, except it all turned out to be a joke. Jack Cottrel responds. 

It must have been a surreal experience. One dumb in-joke and the next morning, you’ve come out as gay.

Or not.

Australian cricketer James Faulkner yesterday trotted out what, in context, is some typically silly banter. Out celebrating his birthday with his mum and best mate who he’s flatted with for five years, he referred to his flatmate as ‘the boyfriend’, along with love-hearts and the hashtag #togetherfor5years. In context, for the people who know Faulkner well, it’s a standard ‘we’re practically married’ joke which isn’t actually that funny. In context, on a homophobia scale, it’s roughly 1.5 out of 10.

The Instagram post with the updated caption “(best mate!!!)” next to boyfriend

Unfortunately for Faulkner, he didn’t make the joke in a group chat. He did it on Instagram. Context went out the window and plenty of people (including media outlets) thought that Australian cricket had its first gay men’s player.

I’ll be honest, one of those people was me. Cricket is not exactly a popular sport among gay men. While I know literally thousands of gay rugby players, I only know about a handful of other gay men who even enjoy cricket, let alone play it. In the history of the sport, the only openly gay player is Steven Davies, who plays county cricket for Somerset.

Somehow, in the cyclical brouhaha of No Gay All Blacks, the fact there have been No Gay Black Caps either never features.

I’ve loved cricket forever, having worked in the sport to varying degrees and writing about it for years. Every queer person goes through moments when their sexuality or gender makes them feel entirely alone. For me, most of those moments arrive with the cricket season, whether it’s because other LGBTQ+ folks don’t get it, or because I’m the first out gay man someone has met in their entire cricketing career.

So I went to Faulkner’s post with a real sense of happiness. Someone had to be the first, so why not him? I was, of course, hit with serious homophobia in the comments. Not just the “practically married” foolishness, but the kind that calls me and people like me sick and depraved. Other people had been reporting the comments for hours, but the well for that kind of hatefulness is about as deep as the Mariana Trench.

And then, of course, the denouement. It was all a joke.

Housemates, not lovers

Faulkner’s follow up, thanking the LGBTQ+ community for the support he never actually needed, was kind of painful to read. His joke not only reminded me that I’m the only gay in the village (cricket team) but that it had provided a point for virulent homophobia to spring from. We’d been reading it so we could report it – reading it so he wouldn’t have to.

The idea that his ‘date’ post was never meant to be taken at face value was tone-deaf as hell, though not quite as tone deaf as the fans who came to his defence when actual gay actual people rightfully asked: “What the fuck?”

Faulkner didn’t apologise, rather he was misunderstood, and “good on everyone for being so supportive”. Perhaps we’d done such a good job of shielding him from homophobia that he actually thought none came through, even though it started up again pretty quickly.

Somehow, it seems we were supposed to have divined that Falkner didn’t actually mean ‘boyfriend’ in the way that usually accompanies hearts and hashtags, but in the way that… means ‘BFF and flatmate’.

And of course, it was roundly suggested that anyone who expressed genuine hurt over the situation was just looking for reasons to be offended. As though we hadn’t just waded through the swamp for at best, a bad joke and at worst, for someone who belittled gay relationships. No queer person needs to look for reasons to be offended. They come to us, with slurs aplenty.

In fact, I’m really not sure what Falkner thought the reaction to his initial post would be – good-natured boys-club ribbing? I want to believe no one could actually make a post like that without expecting some actual abuse, but the obliviousness of straight dudes will never cease to amaze me.

So, my ever-hopeful little gay heart got trampled on a bit, but it will survive. I do feel for the gay cricketers who are out there (though not actually out there) because they got to see a bit of what waits for them if they do decide to open the closet door.

I don’t think Faulkner should be castigated for this. But as he said, he got significant support from the LGBTQ+ community. It’d be good if he could actually pay that back sometime.

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All Black prop Gary Knight is felled by a flour bomb during the Springbok test at Eden Park, Auckland, September 12, 1981 (nzhistory.govt.nz)
All Black prop Gary Knight is felled by a flour bomb during the Springbok test at Eden Park, Auckland, September 12, 1981 (nzhistory.govt.nz)

SocietyApril 15, 2019

‘Please accept three hearty cheers, for one man with morality and guts’

All Black prop Gary Knight is felled by a flour bomb during the Springbok test at Eden Park, Auckland, September 12, 1981 (nzhistory.govt.nz)
All Black prop Gary Knight is felled by a flour bomb during the Springbok test at Eden Park, Auckland, September 12, 1981 (nzhistory.govt.nz)

On Thursday, the exhibition Mandela: My Life was officially opened at Eden Park, where in 1981 the All Blacks test against the Springboks was disrupted by flour bombs and flares. By then, Robert Burgess’s All Blacks career was long over, having been cut short by his refusal to play against apartheid teams. This is his speech from the exhibition opening.

Mandela’s extraordinary life shows us that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world.

South Africa and New Zealand have been long entwined through rugby.

In 1949, the year I was born, the All Blacks toured South Africa.

In 1956, the Springboks visited our Primary School in New Plymouth. We sang to them “Take me back to the old Transvaal”. I saw them play against Taranaki and in the test in Wellington. It didn’t register with me that they were all white.

In 1960, I was at intermediate school, when, in Sharpeville, 69 unarmed protesters were killed by South African police.Two months later, the All Blacks toured. No Māori were selected. I was aware of the call No Maoris, No Tour.

In 1965, the Springboks toured here, again. Only white players. Our 1st XV sent newspaper cuttings to their families in South Africa.

Of course, I argued with my cousin, sport, life and politics do mix.

In 1970, Mandela had been in prison for eight years. There was invitation from South Africa for an All Black tour; with Maori and Pacifika players… as honorary whites.

That year I was teaching in Invercargill. I’d played rep. rugby for Manawatu, the Junior All Blacks and NZ Universities.

Jack Borland from the Southland Rugby Union came to my door. They were nominating me, he said, for the All Black trials. I said, No, thanks. Jack was rather taken aback. I said I’d like to make it known that I was not available because of apartheid.

I was overwhelmed by telegrams and letters. A telegram from ‘Four Rugby Enthusiasts’ said, “To offset the likely abuse, please accept three hearty cheers, for one man with morality and guts. And hopes for dozens more like you”…

A white South African assured me that “many of them find apartheid very harsh. But there is very little that can be done.” Then he said, “Isolationists, trying to run our country, will have not the slightest effect.”

In 1971 and 1972, I was selected to play for the All Blacks, but, in 1973, a Springbok tour of New Zealand was scheduled. Fellow All Black Sandy McNicol and I were interviewed on TV about our opposition to it.

Again there was overwhelming support; like the 300 signatures of Westfield Freezing Workers, “Your opposition to racism will be supported by the majority of New Zealand people.”

Another message shouted: “YOU LONG-HAIRED CREEP / KEEP POLITICS OUT OF SPORT”.

In June 1976, the Soweto uprising led by black school children. One hundred and seventy-six deaths‎‎. The All Blacks started their South African tour later that same month. Twenty-five African nations boycotted the 1976 Olympics.

Throughout the 1970s, I played or coached rugby. I also actively supported our anti-apartheid organisation, HART. The day the Springboks arrived in New Zealand in 1981, I pulled out of rugby.

Nelson Mandela had been in prison 18 years and would stay there another nine.

Nelson Mandela and Bob Burgess. Photos: Getty

In 1994, I watched my first rugby match in 13 years. It was the Springboks in New Zealand representing the new South Africa.

President Mandela insisted on keeping the name Springboks – an act of national reconciliation.

The closest I got to Mandela was in 1994, when I met his son-in-law. He was in New Zealand on an official research visit. When he learnt the part I’d played in the anti-tour movement, he stood, raised his glass to me and thanked me.

In 1995, on TV, we all saw Mandela on Ellis Park for the Rugby World Cup final, wearing a Springbok jersey. We saw then, the “democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities” that he’d envisaged 30 years earlier in his words from the dock in 1964, while facing the death penalty.

And in 2011, Arnold Stofile from the ANC presented me a Centennial Award and I was invited to the centennial celebrations in South Africa.

The best reward was seeing what Nelson Mandela had envisaged coming about, his commitment to an ideal, his exceptional generosity to others and that he survived to lead his country; the most extraordinary thing in my lifetime.

But wait there's more!