Growing up, I spent probably the same amount of time in a gym playing basketball as I did in a classroom through a year long period. Between practices and/or games after school, on the weekends, during the summer, the one constant was lacing up a pair of Nike's and hitting the hardwood. It was, up until a certain point, a reprieve from the everyday struggles of a kid. School was hard, genuine friends were hard to come by, your body is changing and you can't stop it, and in general you pretty much just hate everything about growing up. This, by the way, is the norm for your basic everyday teenager. For those who identify as anything other than white and straight, you have a whole other set of complexity added to the process of growing up. Basketball for me was a reprieve until the day that it wasn’t.

At a certain point-basketball wasn’t a safe space for me anymore. The older I get, the more evident it became that my voice wasn't going to get as deep as the quarterback, more hair was never going to be as blonde as the sun, and a cheerleader named Missy wasn’t going to go steady with me during football season. Realizing you are gay in and of itself is not a simple process to go through. I was in high school from 2006-2010, and I personally don’t recall one fucking thing being taught about sex education for those who were gay. I’m not saying it didn’t happen, but there are no receipts saying that it did. For me, growing up in the closet while trying to convince both myself and my peers that I was a jock was miserable. It stripped me of everything that had been my identity until that point, which sadly wasn’t much, but much like in Love & Basketball, Spaulding probably would have been my date to the prom.

I can flash forward through my college years-where being gay became a firm welcomed reality, and my involvement in sports came from working in them verses really playing them. Sure, I played intramural sports, but it put me in the same position I was in through high school-on a court full of straight men, allegedly, who thought that every lay-up required an upgrade to a dunk. It was heinous. As I have written previously somewhere, I found that moving to Boston presented me two challenges. First, I didn’t really know anybody. Second, I had no identity as a gay man. Thanks to Google and the magic of a search bar, I found the Boston Gay Basketball League. I couldn’t really believe such a thing existed. You hear about it but you think that you’d be doing such a thing.

I signed up and have never looked back. To those out there who struggle with both their identity and their sexual orientation-you’ve got my support. For those who struggle with their identity and/or sexual orientation as an athlete, see if there is a gay sports league near you. By opening up my world to a league like this, it has became a foundation in my life. My friends, my second family, they are all incredible men and/or women (both gay and straight) who have given me perspective in life. Whether it be about what it was like for them to grow up in the closet, to experience gay rights movements, or just simply finding a community of people who identity with you…it has shaped my life impermeably and forever.

By putting myself out there, but allowing both elements of my identity as a gay man and an athlete combine, I’ve genuinely never enjoyed sport more. When I’m not playing sports, I’m watching sports, and if I’m not watching sports I am passive aggressively tweeting about how I wish I was doing something with sports (or about Ariana Grande…and for that I have no fucks to give). This league has taught me at a basic yet fundamental level that I never should have let myself separate my life in anyway. I can look at a basketball and feel nothing but joy, I can run up and down a basketball court and feel like flying in the wind. It is an otherwise unobtainable high to be freely playing a sport you love surrounded by a family who support you, love you, and knock you on your ass when called for.

I’m sorry basketball, but I promise you this. I’ll never stop giving it my all every time I step in-between the lines. Whether grabbing a rebound, draining a three, narrowly missing yet another free throw, or diving after a loose ball into a cement wall and breaking a chair (that actually happened)-you have my complete and utter love. After all, you were always number one.