who I am. I’m different from these guys.’
He folded his arms defensively, stood back on one heel and then tapped his lips with a forefinger, like Samir Nasri making his famous shush gesture. (I still don’t get why he does that – who the fuck is he telling to be quiet? The fans?)
‘Different? How?’
‘When I was playing in Augsburg I was living in Munich.’
‘I know. That’s where we met, remember?’
‘Yes, but do you want to know why I was living in Munich?’
For a brief moment I wondered if he was a neo-Nazi and then rejected the idea; Christoph only looked like a Nazi.
I shrugged. ‘Munich is a nicer city than Augsburg. At least that’s my own impression.’
‘Have you heard of a part of Munich called the Glockenbachviertel?’
‘Yes, I think so. It’s the trendy part. Lots of art galleries. I often used to go there and look for paintings.’
Christoph nodded. ‘There are lots of gay people living in that part of Munich.’ He paused for a moment. ‘That’s why I was living there, Scott. Because I couldn’t live the way I wanted in Augsburg. What I mean to say is I was living in Munich with a man.’
I felt my spirits sink. This was going to be coaching football at its most challenging. The only gay footballers who’d ever stepped out of the closet as far as I was aware were Thomas Hitzlsperger and Justin Fashanu, and Fashanu committed suicide, which wasn’t exactly an encouraging precedent for anyone else in the game who felt moved to declare his homosexuality.
‘Right. I see.’
‘It’s just that Mr Zarco said some things the other day on television about the Qatari World Cup – about having gay friends – which was very encouraging. And I thought that perhaps it might be all right to be gay at this club. Unlike my last club, where I had to live a kind of lie about who and what I was. Which is hard, you know?’
I winced a little at the mention of Zarco and the Qataris. Since his comments about the 2022 World Cup the London City press office had been besieged with threats from anonymous Arabs; we’d had three bomb threats at Hangman’s Wood. Meanwhile the Qataris continued to deny any impropriety and FIFA’s executive committee in Zurich had complained to the FA about Zarco; as a result of this the FA had felt obliged to cancel their invitation to Zarco to become a member of its England team think tank. Zarco’s response to all this would certainly have been to repeat his allegations had Phil Hobday not told him to button it.
‘Look, Christoph, if you’re asking me for advice on being gay, I can’t give you any. I have one or two friends who are gay but none of them are in football. But if you’re asking me what I think you’re going to ask me…’
‘Should I tell the guys in the team I’m gay? That’s what I want to know. That’s what I’d like.’
‘Then the answer is no, absolutely fucking not. Don’t ask me to justify it, Christoph, because I can’t, but being gay is just not acceptable in football for the simple reason that the game is the last bastion of open bigotry and homophobia. There are no openly gay footballers in any of England’s top four divisions. Of course that’s not to say there are no gay players. Everyone knows who they are, or thinks they do, but those players keep it quiet for one simple reason: fear. Not of the other players, but fear of the abuse an openly gay player would receive from the fans. Right now there are lots of fans on terraces all over England who still sing songs about the Munich air crash and about the Hillsborough disaster, and who make gassing noises towards Tottenham fans who are all presumed, wrongly, to be Jews. In my time in football I’ve heard these bastards sing songs about Sol Campbell’s mental breakdown, Dwight Yorke’s disabled son, Karren Brady’s miscarriage, the floods in Hull, and the excellent public service done by various murderers including Harold Shipman and Ian Huntley. All of which
He folded his arms defensively, stood back on one heel and then tapped his lips with a forefinger, like Samir Nasri making his famous shush gesture. (I still don’t get why he does that – who the fuck is he telling to be quiet? The fans?)
‘Different? How?’
‘When I was playing in Augsburg I was living in Munich.’
‘I know. That’s where we met, remember?’
‘Yes, but do you want to know why I was living in Munich?’
For a brief moment I wondered if he was a neo-Nazi and then rejected the idea; Christoph only looked like a Nazi.
I shrugged. ‘Munich is a nicer city than Augsburg. At least that’s my own impression.’
‘Have you heard of a part of Munich called the Glockenbachviertel?’
‘Yes, I think so. It’s the trendy part. Lots of art galleries. I often used to go there and look for paintings.’
Christoph nodded. ‘There are lots of gay people living in that part of Munich.’ He paused for a moment. ‘That’s why I was living there, Scott. Because I couldn’t live the way I wanted in Augsburg. What I mean to say is I was living in Munich with a man.’
I felt my spirits sink. This was going to be coaching football at its most challenging. The only gay footballers who’d ever stepped out of the closet as far as I was aware were Thomas Hitzlsperger and Justin Fashanu, and Fashanu committed suicide, which wasn’t exactly an encouraging precedent for anyone else in the game who felt moved to declare his homosexuality.
‘Right. I see.’
‘It’s just that Mr Zarco said some things the other day on television about the Qatari World Cup – about having gay friends – which was very encouraging. And I thought that perhaps it might be all right to be gay at this club. Unlike my last club, where I had to live a kind of lie about who and what I was. Which is hard, you know?’
I winced a little at the mention of Zarco and the Qataris. Since his comments about the 2022 World Cup the London City press office had been besieged with threats from anonymous Arabs; we’d had three bomb threats at Hangman’s Wood. Meanwhile the Qataris continued to deny any impropriety and FIFA’s executive committee in Zurich had complained to the FA about Zarco; as a result of this the FA had felt obliged to cancel their invitation to Zarco to become a member of its England team think tank. Zarco’s response to all this would certainly have been to repeat his allegations had Phil Hobday not told him to button it.
‘Look, Christoph, if you’re asking me for advice on being gay, I can’t give you any. I have one or two friends who are gay but none of them are in football. But if you’re asking me what I think you’re going to ask me…’
‘Should I tell the guys in the team I’m gay? That’s what I want to know. That’s what I’d like.’
‘Then the answer is no, absolutely fucking not. Don’t ask me to justify it, Christoph, because I can’t, but being gay is just not acceptable in football for the simple reason that the game is the last bastion of open bigotry and homophobia. There are no openly gay footballers in any of England’s top four divisions. Of course that’s not to say there are no gay players. Everyone knows who they are, or thinks they do, but those players keep it quiet for one simple reason: fear. Not of the other players, but fear of the abuse an openly gay player would receive from the fans. Right now there are lots of fans on terraces all over England who still sing songs about the Munich air crash and about the Hillsborough disaster, and who make gassing noises towards Tottenham fans who are all presumed, wrongly, to be Jews. In my time in football I’ve heard these bastards sing songs about Sol Campbell’s mental breakdown, Dwight Yorke’s disabled son, Karren Brady’s miscarriage, the floods in Hull, and the excellent public service done by various murderers including Harold Shipman and Ian Huntley. All of which
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