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Slugger’s journey to coming out

Former Orioles minor league all-star Tyler Townsend on life in baseball’s closet and finding redemption in helping others

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Tyler Townsend, gay news, Washington Blade
Tyler Townsend, gay news, Washington Blade

Today, Tyler Townsend has left baseball behind and is pursuing a degree in hospitality management. (Blade photo by Kevin Naff)

If not for a recurring hamstring injury, Tyler Townsend just might have become Major League Baseball’s first openly gay player.

Townsend, now 27, was drafted by the Baltimore Orioles in 2010 in the third round, opted out of his senior year at Florida International University and entered the minor league system.

An all-star first baseman, he quickly progressed through the system, playing stints in Aberdeen, Frederick and Salisbury, all within the Orioles operation. And through three years of minor league ball, Townsend played from the closet, keeping his sexual orientation a secret from teammates, coaches — and the female fans who followed the team and offered phone numbers to players.

“I was afraid of what would be said by teammates and fans,” he said in an interview with the Blade from his home in Rehoboth Beach, Del. “I always had a goal of getting to professional baseball since I realized I had the ability to do it and I just didn’t want anything to take away from that. I didn’t want the person who didn’t understand it to not give me a chance because they didn’t want to deal with my personal life. That was my fear. And there wasn’t anybody to look up to who was out playing sports.”

Despite his apprehension, Townsend said his plan all along was to delay coming out publicly until he made it to the big leagues.

“I would have come out if I’d made it to the pros,” he said, with a hint of regret.

For someone coming out publicly in the media for the first time, Townsend is relaxed and poised, reclining slightly in the well-appointed living room of the townhouse he shares with his partner not far from Rehoboth’s beaches.

His story rings familiar to legions of gay people who are — or were — out in their personal lives, but closeted at work. He had a boyfriend and lived in D.C. when not on the road, living an openly gay life, though he didn’t frequent gay bars. But when it was time to play ball, Townsend dodged questions about his sexual orientation — and why he never called those women who hit on him. His boyfriend at the time, who was older, attended games as his “uncle.”

“I was out in the off-season, so six months of the year I was happy and out and being myself and once spring training came around it was back in the closet,” he said. “I should have done things differently but I feel like telling this story now makes up for it a little bit.”

Townsend, like so many American boys, started playing baseball at age 10, joining a Delaware travel team and continuing through his high school years at Cape Henlopen High outside of Rehoboth, where he grew up. Rehoboth is a popular beach destination for gays from Baltimore, D.C. and Philadelphia, so Townsend was no stranger to the sight of two men holding hands.

“I always knew I was gay,” he said. “And growing up in Rehoboth, I knew what gay was. Once I realized I was attracted to other guys, I knew right away what it was.”

After earning a college scholarship and playing three years for Florida International, Townsend realized every little league player’s dream.

“To hear your name on TV on draft day is one of the best memories, it’s what I worked for my whole life,” he said. “Nothing else mattered.”

But the euphoria of that moment soon gave way to the harsh realities of a career in pro sports — long stints away from home, injuries and, for Townsend, the pressure of guarding his secret. After being drafted by the Orioles and signing his contract, Townsend played advanced rookie ball in Aberdeen, Md., then went to Pensacola, Fla., for training in the off season. That’s when he first tore his hamstring doing sprints, which led to continuous struggles with injury.

That’s also when he decided to start the coming out process by telling his family.

“I just couldn’t live with it anymore,” he said. “I thought the whole world was going to be against me. I couldn’t live with the lie anymore so I decided to tell my family and that was it.”

His family, which includes his mother of Lewes, Del., father of Georgetown, Del., a sister, half brother and half sister, proved supportive and accepting. “I was in Miami when I told my Dad and he got in the car and drove down to make sure I was OK.”

Locker room epithets

The acceptance he found off the field didn’t translate to the locker room, where homophobic epithets were commonplace and where he feared coming out would doom his chances of playing in the big leagues.

“So many times, I heard homophobic remarks in locker rooms but didn’t say anything because if I get to the position where they’re going to call me up and it’s between me and somebody else, I didn’t want the person making the decision saying, ‘I don’t want to deal with the publicity or the discomfort of other players,’” he said. “I didn’t want anything to hinder my chances and being openly gay would have hurt.”

He recalled one teammate who was religious and read the Bible every day, who told Townsend there’s nothing wrong with being gay as long as you don’t act on it. Another time, he said a coach called a player a faggot because he touched his belt. And at spring training in Florida, Townsend said an older gay man would often come to games and bring bubble gum and snacks for the players. On his birthday one year, the coaches joked about taking a video of the team in the shower and giving it to the man as a gift.

“Little things like that always made me realize there was no room for an openly gay player,” Townsend said. “If they’re that uncomfortable with the idea of someone being gay, what would their reaction be if they actually had to take a shower or change or play or trust someone on their team who’s gay?”

As a result, he never came out to anyone on the team, though one locker room incident brought him close. There was a man in North Carolina, Townsend said, who would sneak into locker rooms and impersonate cleaning staff while spying on players getting undressed. When someone finally caught on and kicked him out, the mood in the locker room turned angry, with players using anti-gay epithets and threatening to beat the man. According to Townsend, one player said, “I don’t care how close I am to somebody if I ever found out they were gay I would disown them.”

The threats of physical violence prompted Townsend to speak up, challenging his teammates, who demanded to know why he was defending the trespasser.

“I told them they were doing something stupid — it was the one time I spoke out,” he said. “People are ignorant and maybe it would have been different if I came out but I just felt that the majority of them had a preconceived notion of what all gay men are and it wouldn’t matter.”

After battling the hamstring injuries for most of his professional career, Townsend finally accepted that he needed a break in 2013.

“It was discouraging. It was one of the two toughest decisions I’ve had to make — leaving baseball and coming out.”

‘There’s still a lot of hatred’

Tyler Townsend, gay news, Washington Blade

Tyler Townsend played in the minor league system after being drafted by the Baltimore Orioles in 2010. (Photo courtesy Frederick Keys)

Major League Baseball has never had an openly gay active player. The NBA had Jason Collins, who came out in 2013 and played briefly before retiring. The NFL had Michael Sam, who was drafted but failed to make a team and just last week quit the Canadian Football League, citing mental health issues. Publicly at least, Collins and Sam were heralded in the media and showered with attention — Oprah interviews, Sports Illustrated covers — all the trappings of a carefully orchestrated modern-day coming out story aimed at downplaying criticism and maximizing endorsement and speaking engagement potential. Anyone who tweeted their disgust with the newly out players was quickly reprimanded and the offending tweet deleted.

Just this week, David Denson, a minor league player with the Milwaukee Brewers system, came out as gay. He told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel that his teammates on the Helena Brewers accept him. Maybe he’ll make it to the big leagues and become the first active out gay player, overcoming the skepticism of many observers who see baseball as the last frontier for gay athletes.

“Sports in general has that macho persona that you need to put out,” Townsend said. “Baseball is 85 percent players from conservative areas like Latin America and the Bible Belt and you have 18-year-old kids who’ve never been exposed to anything.”

The view that baseball will be the last major pro male team sport to have an out gay player is common among sports fans the Blade has spoken to about the subject. To help address the problem of homophobia in baseball, MLB hired gay retired player Billy Bean as its first “Ambassador of Inclusion.” Bean counseled Denson on coming out.

“The beauty of what could come from this is he can be an example that can help change that perception and change the stereotype that there would never be a gay person on a men’s professional sports team,” Bean told the Journal Sentinel. “That was something I struggled with.”

Townsend said he also turned to Bean for help with coming out publicly.

“Billy Bean has been a help, but he couldn’t come out either and it’s the same in 2010 as it was in the ‘80s,” he said. “ The locker room is a free-for-all, there’s still a lot of hatred and something needs to be done about it.”

So what’s to be done? Townsend cites sensitivity training for coaching staff as key, because younger players are emboldened when they hear coaches using homophobic epithets. The other solution, he says, is more out gays in the game. “We need someone like Jackie Robinson to break that barrier.”

Today, Townsend has mostly left baseball behind, though he recently played in a softball tournament. He’s resumed his studies at Florida International University, pursuing a degree in hospitality management. He works part-time as a bartender in Rehoboth and hopes to one day open a restaurant of his own.

He met his partner, David Gonce, a regional sales director for an information document managing company, about a year and a half ago in Dewey Beach, Del. The two exchanged glances at the Starboard, a bar and restaurant popular with the straight college crowd. But Gonce thought Townsend was checking out the female friend who was with him.

“I asked the waitress if he wanted to meet my buddy’s girlfriend and she said, ‘No, he’s gay and he’s looking at you.’”

They started dating shortly after and now, 18 months later, a plaque of the Starboard’s logo hangs in their living room.

“It’s got to be really difficult to suppress who you are in front of all these people you’ve gotten to know so well for such a long period of time playing baseball,” Gonce said. “I give him a lot of credit for doing that, it’s very difficult.”

Reflecting on his years in professional baseball and just how close he came to the majors, Townsend betrays some regret.

“It’s sad looking back now, I wish I could have been that person but I didn’t have the courage at the time,” he said. “That’s not right on my part … I would do it differently if I could. There’s that 16-year-old kid, I want him to know not to be scared and don’t let other people steer you away from who you are.”

He added that he’s still friends with some players on Facebook and isn’t sure how they’ll react to this interview but that he no longer cares.

“This is my way of letting the guilt go, so I’m doing this for me and for people who are struggling with the same things I struggled with to try to help them. My regret was not coming out sooner and being that role model for somebody but I still have the passion to help.”

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Every MLB team except this one celebrated Pride

Right-wingers react to ‘backlash’ against Rangers: ‘Bullying is unacceptable’

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Once again, the Texas Rangers opted not to celebrate Pride last month with a dedicated day or night on its 2024 promotion schedule. And once again, the American League West team is the only Major League operation to do so. 

This repeated omission by the reigning World Series champs has sparked what one conservative news site calls a “ridiculous backlash.” As the Washington Examiner’s Kimberly Ross wrote this week:

“There is no getting away from these ubiquitous celebrations. Instead of ‘to each his own,’ major league teams are nearly required to give in and perform in an effort to placate the loudest crowds. It’s not good enough to include everyone at all times. You must kowtow or else. This kind of bullying is unacceptable, and it’s worth pushing back against whether you’re a regular citizen or the 2023 World Series champion Texas Rangers.”

But the only evidence of the “backlash” was a balanced report by Schuyler Dixon of the Associated Press that appeared on the website of KSAT-TV in San Antonio, detailing the frustrations of local LGBTQ advocates and fans. His report was posted by the AP under the headline: “Why are the Texas Rangers the only MLB team without a Pride Night?” The virulently anti-trans British tabloid, the Daily Mail rehashed that same AP piece but added that LGBTQ groups were “FURIOUS” without substantiating that claim with a single quote. 

At most, DeeJay Johannessen, chief executive of the HELP Center, an LGBTQ organization based in Tarrant County, where the Rangers play, told the AP he felt “kind of embarrassed.” The Daily Mail headline writer was apparently “kind of” clickbaiting. 

“It’s kind of an embarrassment to the city of Arlington that their team is the only one that doesn’t have a Pride night,” Johannessen said. Local advocate Rafael McDonnell said, “It pains me that this remains an issue [after] all these years.”

How painful? McDonnell told the AP he considered not attending the championship parade with his boyfriend when the Rangers celebrated their first World Series championship last fall. Ultimately, he decided to go. So much for “FURIOUS.” 

McDonnell is the communications and advocacy manager for the Resource Center, which is an organization that grew out of the AIDS crisis in the 1980s. He added that his group has worked with the Rangers, at their invitation, to help them develop a policy of inclusion, starting about five years ago.

The team has sent employees to volunteer for programs supporting its efforts in advocating for marriage equality and transgender rights.

Although McDonnell said members of the Rangers staff keep in contact with him, he told the AP he can’t recall any conversations with the team since its five-game victory over the Arizona Diamondbacks in last year’s World Series. 

“For a long time, I’ve thought that it might be somebody very high up in the organization who is opposed to this for some reason that is not clearly articulated,” McDonnell said. “To say that the Rangers aren’t doing anything for the community, well, they have. But the hill that they are choosing to stake themselves out on is no Pride night.”

The Rangers did celebrate Mexican heritage during a game last month, and also host nights throughout the season dedicated to other groups as well as the Boy Scouts, the Girl Scouts, first responders, teachers, and the military. The team also recognizes universities from around the Dallas-Fort Worth area and other parts of the Lone Star State. But not Pride. 

Why? The Rangers issued a statement, very similar to one from 2023. It lists various organizations the team has sponsored and steps it has taken internally to “create a welcoming, inclusive, and supportive environment for fans and employees.”

“Our longstanding commitment remains the same: To make everyone feel welcome and included in Rangers baseball — in our ballpark, at every game, and in all we do — for both our fans and our employees,” the team said. “We deliver on that promise across our many programs to have a positive impact across our entire community.”

“I think it’s a private organization,” said Rangers fan Will Davis. “And if they don’t want to have it, I don’t think they should be forced to have it.” Davis is from Marble Falls, about 200 miles southwest of the stadium in Central Texas and attended a recent game with his son’s youth baseball team.

“I think if it were something where MLB said, ‘We’re not participating in this,’ but the MLB does participate in it. And the Rangers have chosen not to,” said Rangers fan Misty Lockhart, who lives near told the ballpark. Lockhart told the AP she attends almost three dozen games every season. “I think that’s where I take the bigger issue, is they have actively chosen not to participate in it.”

While Lockhart says she doesn’t see Pride night as a political issue, she suggested there would be more pressure on the Rangers if their stadium was downtown, in the heart of Dallas County, where the majority of elected officials are Democrats. Tarrant County, home to Arlington, Fort Worth and Global Life Stadium, is generally more conservative, just like the governor, lieutenant governor, legislature, and fans like Will Davis. 

“In something like this, this is a way for people to go as a state,” Davis told the AP. “We don’t want the political stuff shoved down our throats one way or the other, left or right. We’re coming out here to have a good time with friends or family and let it be.”

Unfortunately, some Rangers fans decided they could not “let it be” the one time the team welcomed local LGBTQ groups to a game as part of a fundraising event, as it does for other groups. This was in September 2003, two years after the Chicago Cubs hosted what is considered the first-ever Pride game. At that time, Rangers fans raged about the invitation on a website, and showed up to protest outside the stadium before that game. 

The Rangers never extended that invitation again. 

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Haters troll official Olympics Instagram for celebrating gay athlete and boyfriend

Campbell Harrison clapped back at online trolls

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(Screenshot from Instagram)

Olympian Campbell Harrison has already conquered an eating disorder, anxiety, depression, and disappointment for skipping the Tokyo Summer Games so he could support his older sister in her battle with cancer. 

So, he’s saying “no wucka’s” (meaning, “no problem” in Aussie lingo) to the bigots, trolls, mongrels, and “drongos” (meaning, “dicks” and “fools,” respectively) who plastered their disapproval in the comments of an Instagram post celebrating him as the first LGBTQ sport climber in Olympic history. 

The post wasn’t even his; the official Olympics Instagram account shared pictures from his qualifying climb from November 2023, and tagged Harrison earlier this week. 

“Celebration kiss for the ages 😘🌈” reads the caption. “After not making it to Tokyo 2020, Australian sport climber Campbell Harrison did not give up and four years later secured a quota spot for the Olympic Games #Paris2024. It was an emotional victory celebrated together with his partner, Justin.”

Harrison, having seen the negative comments multiply, took them in stride with a snappy response that included a tag to his boyfriend, Justin Maire, whose account is private.  

“All these people mad cause we’re hotter than they are 😘,” Harrison wrote. 

Harrison’s mother, Yvette, shared her support: “I could not be more proud of you my beautiful son. You and Justin are such a beautiful couple and we love you both very much. 🏳️‍🌈🙌❤️”

There were plenty of other supportive comments, and haters were called out, too: “I love all the people following the @Olympics page due to the Olympic spirit (among other values), who don’t see the irony of bashing an Olympic athlete because of who they love,” wrote out travel writer and LGBTQ rights advocate Mikah Meyer.

The person managing the official Olympics Instagram account was asked to do a better job curating the comments, which were largely vitriolic and cruel. The account posted this plea: “Let’s keep our community positive ❤️ Please ensure your comments are respectful and avoid any language that could be offensive, or harmful to others. We reserve the right to remove comments that do not adhere to this guideline.” 

Gay Olympic champion diver Matthew Mitcham commented: “15 years ago I kissed my partner on camera when I won in Beijing 2008. This one post by @olympics has received more hate than I did in my whole career.” 

Today is Harrison’s 28th birthday. He, his boyfriend and his mother recently spoke with Climbings Holly Yu Tung Chen. She wrote: 

“Campbell arrived in the world on June 28, 1997, screaming inconsolably. Unlike his three other siblings, who were all ‘peaches and cream,’ said Yvette, baby Campbell was “squishy and cuddly, yes — but he had a lot to say from the word go.”

“Campbell started climbing at age eight when Russell took the children to the Victorian Climbing Centre and noticed Campbell’s immediate vigor. It’s the age-old climber tale: Campbell almost immediately lost interest in the other sports he dabbled in, including swimming, soccer, and track and field. All he wanted to do was climb.”

Harrison told Climbing although he never actually “came out” as gay, he never hid his sexuality, and simply made sure his parents and siblings knew who he was. For example, when he told the family he’d be joining Climbing Cuties, an affinity group for queer climbers, they told him to have fun. On another occasion, Harrison let them know he’d be taking part in a panel for queer climbers, and his parents asked if they could attend. 

As for his boyfriend, Harrison told Climbing they met cute. 

“In the age where most people meet online, we had the classic story of catching each other’s eye from across the room,” said Harrison. Maire told the reporter he recognized Campbell from social media, where the climber does not hide their relationship, and that often results in comments that his posts have “gotten too political.”

“How is that political?” he asked, rhetorically, noting that most of the hateful comments he receives online come from Americans. “Why should I change the way I feel just because of someone else’s perception of me?” he said. 

Last November, the only climber to top the men’s finals route during the IFSC Oceania Qualifier in Melbourne was Harrison. Watching him ascend were his parents and boyfriend, as he clipped the final draw and collapsed inward, his hands covering his face as he was lowered down. He had punched his ticket to Paris with this win. 

Once he was on the ground, Harrison made a beeline to Maire, where they hugged and kissed, as recorded on Instagram.

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Washington Mystics to hold annual Pride game

Team to play Dallas Wings on Saturday

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(Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

The Washington Mystics will be having their upcoming Pride game on Saturday against the Dallas Wings.

The Mystics Pride game is one of the team’s theme nights they host every year, with Pride night being a recurring event. The team faced off against the Phoenix Mercury last June. Brittney Griner, who Russia released from a penal colony in December 2022 after a court convicted her of importing illegal drugs after customs officials at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo Airport found vape canisters with cannabis oil in her luggage, attended the game. 

Unlike the NBA, where there are currently no openly LGBTQ players, there are multiple WNBA players who are out. Mystics players Emily Englster, Brittney Sykes, and Stefanie Dolson are all queer.

The Mystics on June 1 acknowledged Pride Month in a post to its X account.

“Celebrating Pride this month and every month,” reads the message.

The game is on Saturday at 3 p.m. at the Entertainment and Sports Arena (1100 Oak Drive, S.E.). Fans can purchase special Pride tickets that come with exclusive Mystics Pride-themed jerseys. 

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