Read Online The Front Runner by Patricia Nell Warren - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia Nell Warren
Tags: Fiction, Gay, New York (State), Gay Men, Track and Field Coaches, Track-Athletics, Runners (Sports), Erotic Romance Fiction, Track and Field, Runners
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started to fight this power, and to talk a lot about what they call "athletes' rights." They feel that too many officials were too interested in controlling and punishing athletes, and not interested enough in benefiting them and in recognizing their real human needs. They are forcing officials to rethink old attitudes, to liberalize old and irksome rules.
As a former runner, and as a fledgling liberal, I was strongly inclined to side with the athletes. There are, of course, some fine fair-minded people in all three of these organizations, who give unstintingly of their time and energy for the sport, and who join with the athletes in fighting for change. But all three organizations still harbor too many fanatic and/or senile men and women who form a dangerous power bloc. As in Owens's day, they feel that athletes should be wind-tip dolls who run record times and don't talk back, and they are fighting the athletes' rights movement every step of the way.
"For instance," I said, "when people hassled Marty Liquori because he partied and had a beer or two. It didn't matter to them that Marty could beat Jim Ryun every time the two of them met. They were ready to throw Marty's best performances in the garbage can because he didn't fit their old-fashioned idea of what a runner is."
The three boys were nodding.
"And as far as the personal morality of athletes goes," I said, "these old men, their idea of total degeneracy was when those two guys on the New York Yankees swapped wives."
We all laughed a little, grimly.
"So," I said, "now we're going to have a gay coach with three gay runners. We are going to be out in full view, with 'gay is beautiful' written across our foreheads in letters of fire. And the conservative element in track is not going to like that at all."
They were silent again. Joe was smoking a cigarette, gazing into the Ire. Joe and I had already had this same discussion, and I knew he wasn't afraid.
My Irish setter, Jim, came wagging into the room and curled up among the three boys, licking Vince's hand.
"I also think that they will avoid talking about homosexuality, if possible," I said. "It just scares them too much. So what they will do is try to trip us up with the rule book. If you put an extra spike on your shoes, and they catch you, you're disqualified, whether you're gay or straight. Do you follow me?"
They were all nodding. I tossed them three copies of the AAU handbook.
"If you've read it before, read it again. Learn it by heart. Some of the rules are good, and some of them are stupid, but this is what they'll hit us with, if they can."
They flipped through the books, very soberly.
I was talking bluntly now, jabbing the air with my finger. "At all times, we are going to conduct ourselves with dignity. We are not going to give them any extra grounds for criticism. Like, Vince, the time you got disqualified for warming up during the national anthem. I agree that it's stupid to make an athlete stand around and get cold during the anthem, but the fact is —they can use things like that to hurt you. Let's not have any irrelevant provocations."
"Yeah, right," said Vince in a low voice.
"I want no doping. No taking under-the-table money. If any of you are hard up for money, come to me and we'll find money. I want you clean on money, so they can't use that against you." I paused a moment. "Have any of you taken money?"
"I've been offered money, but I never took it," said Jacques. "I didn't need it, so why take it?"
"Nobody ever offered me any," said Billy. "Anyway, I wouldn't..."
"How about you, Vince?" I said.
He shrugged. "I've taken it. Always."
I sighed. "That's bad."
"Everybody was taking it," he said.
"I know," I said. "But the point is, they close their eyes to their favorites taking it. If you're blacklisted,
suddenly they maybe discover that you've taken it, and whammo."
"Then I guess the kiss of death is on me," said Vince morosely.
"Well, we'll just have to be optimistic," I said.
As a former runner, and as a fledgling liberal, I was strongly inclined to side with the athletes. There are, of course, some fine fair-minded people in all three of these organizations, who give unstintingly of their time and energy for the sport, and who join with the athletes in fighting for change. But all three organizations still harbor too many fanatic and/or senile men and women who form a dangerous power bloc. As in Owens's day, they feel that athletes should be wind-tip dolls who run record times and don't talk back, and they are fighting the athletes' rights movement every step of the way.
"For instance," I said, "when people hassled Marty Liquori because he partied and had a beer or two. It didn't matter to them that Marty could beat Jim Ryun every time the two of them met. They were ready to throw Marty's best performances in the garbage can because he didn't fit their old-fashioned idea of what a runner is."
The three boys were nodding.
"And as far as the personal morality of athletes goes," I said, "these old men, their idea of total degeneracy was when those two guys on the New York Yankees swapped wives."
We all laughed a little, grimly.
"So," I said, "now we're going to have a gay coach with three gay runners. We are going to be out in full view, with 'gay is beautiful' written across our foreheads in letters of fire. And the conservative element in track is not going to like that at all."
They were silent again. Joe was smoking a cigarette, gazing into the Ire. Joe and I had already had this same discussion, and I knew he wasn't afraid.
My Irish setter, Jim, came wagging into the room and curled up among the three boys, licking Vince's hand.
"I also think that they will avoid talking about homosexuality, if possible," I said. "It just scares them too much. So what they will do is try to trip us up with the rule book. If you put an extra spike on your shoes, and they catch you, you're disqualified, whether you're gay or straight. Do you follow me?"
They were all nodding. I tossed them three copies of the AAU handbook.
"If you've read it before, read it again. Learn it by heart. Some of the rules are good, and some of them are stupid, but this is what they'll hit us with, if they can."
They flipped through the books, very soberly.
I was talking bluntly now, jabbing the air with my finger. "At all times, we are going to conduct ourselves with dignity. We are not going to give them any extra grounds for criticism. Like, Vince, the time you got disqualified for warming up during the national anthem. I agree that it's stupid to make an athlete stand around and get cold during the anthem, but the fact is —they can use things like that to hurt you. Let's not have any irrelevant provocations."
"Yeah, right," said Vince in a low voice.
"I want no doping. No taking under-the-table money. If any of you are hard up for money, come to me and we'll find money. I want you clean on money, so they can't use that against you." I paused a moment. "Have any of you taken money?"
"I've been offered money, but I never took it," said Jacques. "I didn't need it, so why take it?"
"Nobody ever offered me any," said Billy. "Anyway, I wouldn't..."
"How about you, Vince?" I said.
He shrugged. "I've taken it. Always."
I sighed. "That's bad."
"Everybody was taking it," he said.
"I know," I said. "But the point is, they close their eyes to their favorites taking it. If you're blacklisted,
suddenly they maybe discover that you've taken it, and whammo."
"Then I guess the kiss of death is on me," said Vince morosely.
"Well, we'll just have to be optimistic," I said.
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