People assume I can’t like football because I’m gay

There’s that look again.

Usually, when I start talking to someone I’ve met at a party, their eyes narrow and their lips pinch.

They know I’m gay – I seem to wear it like a diaphanous pashmina, all excitable hand gestures and lisping luvviness. But gay and likes football? No, that’s not possible.

They look suspicious, like you’re having them on; the look an adult gives a children’s magician presenting a deck of cards. They’re trying to work out the ruse, bracing for the punchline.

Or worse, they think I’m trying to be straight for their benefit, eyes widening with embarrassment.

The suspense is only deflated when I offer my two pence worth, something only a genuine fan would appreciate: ‘Man City had the harder run-in, but even after bottling it against Liverpool at home they still managed to win the title.’

Their face lights up in recognition and everyone can relax!

But being gay and liking football isn’t as niche as you might think.

I play in a team full of them for a start, having joined the London Titans, a gay-friendly football club, in the summer of 2008. It’s not exclusively gay, some straight players seem to enjoy it too, but cup an ear to the changing rooms and the ‘Bitch, please…’ banter will leave you in no doubt.

By the way, nothing like that happens in the showers, more’s the pity.

But why not play for a straight or ‘normal’ team? Well, the social side was a big attraction, where else could I meet likeminded gays? Having moved to the capital the previous summer in 2007, I wanted friends and, if I’m honest, to meet someone special – I wasn’t going to get that with the Dog & Duck Rovers.

It was the first time I’d played football in earnest since after-school kickabouts. Despite none of my family showing any interest in the sport, I’d played with friends down the park, night after night until we could barely see the ball. My love of football long-predated puberty, hormones and the coming gayness.

The two are quite separate. Why would an attraction to men hinder a shot on goal? Does it make you any less aggressive in tackling? Not by my list of injuries it doesn’t. So I’ve never considered one love to undermine the other, but it’s a sentiment that isn’t universally shared.

The club plays in both a gay-friendly league and a ‘normal’ league. Ninety per cent of games pass with respect and without incident. A couple of times a season there will be ‘fag’ name-calling courtesy of one or two hotheads. 

In a bar, abuse like that would scythe through me but in the heat and exhaustion of a match, much like the ball, words bounce off me.

So what is the problem? Why is there a need for gay-friendly teams?

It’s less of a need, more of a want. Socialising is a big part of Sunday football so you want to be with people who understand you, in whose company you feel free and comfortable.

Southgate’s team takes the knee to tackle racism. Might they make a similar protest in support of LGBT fans?

But of course, I play for fun. Football is not my job. If I worked in an office that had an ugly, dated, don’t-ask-don’t-tell culture to being LGBT, I would find the secrets, fear and lies paralysing.

Welcome to professional football where clubs are anchored to a 1950s, bums-against-the-wall idea of homosexuality. Or is it the fans? Is the braying mob the reason that it took 30 years before a UK player felt comfortable enough to talk about their sexuality?

Or is that a wild smear against British fandom? The reception that Blackpool’s Jake Daniels will get in grounds come August will tell us. For now, the truth is, we don’t know.

The taboo is lifting, for sure. So a World Cup hosted by a Middle Eastern petro-state that bans homosexuality with the threat of three years in jail, feels even more perverse. 

But Qatar might do us queers a service.

England manager has lamented that LGBT supporters might not travel. And is it any wonder, when a Qatari security chief says that rainbow flags will be removed from fans ‘for their own protection’?

Southgate’s team takes the knee to tackle racism. Might they make a similar protest in support of LGBT fans, not least the locals, who could never dream to play in a gay-friendly football team?

I sorely hope so, if only to force the issue. What a joyous sight it would be to see Roy Keane’s withering assessment of the host country’s treatment of gays or Ian Wright bursting with pride and affection for the England LGBT supporters who’d made the trip.

To hear that three-letter word – the one beginning with g and ending with y that some men find so difficult to say – on primetime telly during a match would be uplifting.

Millions of schoolchildren around the country would suddenly have their heroes endorsing a word that up to then had meant ‘stupid, ‘lame’: a stick to beat the effeminate kid in class with.

Then maybe, in later life, they wouldn’t look so displaced by a homosexual debating City’s title run-in.

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