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Where better to hide than within a group, a gang of ruddy, red-blooded Welshmen whom everyone admired and whose bedrock ethic was "One in, all in"? He lived in the thrall of that code.
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He'd already had excrement rubbed on his face and Tabasco sauce in his eyes and between his legs, already fallen in love with every blind-drunk minute of it.īecause, unbeknownst to team captain Ian (Compo) Greenslade and the grizzled vets who were baptizing Alf, nobody needed the brotherhood more than he did.
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He'd already stripped naked and had a pillowcase pulled over his head to run relay races in pubs against fellow newcomers, dashing from one end of a table to the other to gulp sheep's eyeballs, raw kidneys and livers. Sure, such revelry had diminished since 1995, when the Welsh game had gone professional, but Alf had been initiated as a teenager in the premier division a few years earlier, playing for his hometown Bridgend Ravens. No other sport matched rugby's fervor for bonding no other's coaches directed their buses to the nearest pub for team sing-alongs, drink-alongs and the occasional chair-flying free-for-alls after away games, or ordered their players to report for unscheduled conditioning sessions only to stab a finger at the beer cases stacked in the corner and cry, "We're not leaving till the last beer's done, boys!". Rugby, like the NFL, was a weekly car wreck, only its season lasted twice as long, and its games, with no stoppages for gathering one's breath or wits or heart, were two 40-minute streams of running and colliding that ground down every man, flushed his vulnerability from its hideaways and compelled even the strongest player to realize how much he needed the weakest. No other sport on earth demanded that a man lay his unprotected body on the line so relentlessly for his mates. That's what magnetized Alf to rugby, what he felt in the marrow of his oft-broken bones. No camouflaging the second-leading international scorer in Welsh history, the captain who had led Wales to its greatest triumph in 27 years, renowned for slapping both palms to his skull three times whenever he flew over the goal line, for catapulting onto teammates' backs when they scored. There was no dematerializing the most imposing physical specimen on the rugby pitch, the chiseled 6'3", 225-pound body as large as any forward's but faster than almost any back's. Uncanny, even two years before Gareth found himself being pulled toward men, that his nickname caught exactly how he'd end up feeling: alien.
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Hopeless: There was no hiding Alf, his nickname since age 14 when a friend turned to him as they watched an American TV sitcom featuring a furry alien creature by that name-an acronym for Alien Life Form-and blurted, "You're just like him!" Same unruly ginger hair, same prominent nose, same impish antics. Once Gareth had been a fan favorite in this French city, starring for Europe's preeminent rugby club, but who knew what awaited him now as a member of the visiting Cardiff Blues, headlined in that morning's papers for having just revealed his homosexuality? Especially since he was gift wrapped in that pink jersey that the team occasionally-and by sheer chance, today-wears for away matches. He kept his headphones clamped on his ears. He glued his eyes to the grass during warmups. He tried to become invisible as he took the field in Toulouse that Saturday four months ago, his first honest day in the two decades since sex hormones began flooding his bloodstream. Maybe, if we really understood what hiding and lying does to a man, what's still happening in American sports couldn't possibly happen. Unless, of course, the one in 10 has long since been frightened away from our playing fields and courts and rinks and been winnowed to the one in 20 or 30. Maybe, when we sit down in front of our games this weekend, if we peer into the players' eyes and realize that one of every 10 of them may be living the nightmare that Gareth Thomas has lived, the spell would be broken. where a gay man feels he must hide and lie? Will team sports be the last place in the U.S. military is preparing to cross the line that 25 other countries' armies already have.