I take it back. Yesterday I said I was not gay. Considering that my lack of sexual activity from having been married for over twenty years could support any sort of sexual orientation I choose (or none at all), and that it seems everyone just loves a gay man who embraces his homosexuality, I wish now to proclaim that I am gay.
Now, please start sending me endorsement offers. What’s that? I have to be at least a marginal player in one of the big four male sports for my homosexuality to matter enough to warrant endorsements? Oh well, nevermind.
Bloomberg reports that Jason Collins stands to reap an endorsement windfall for his “historic gay stand”. Please. What sort of stand is it, exactly, when you are at the end of your quite unremarkable, journeyman playing career, without a contract for the upcoming season in hand, and you agree to out yourself, knowing full well that you will be bombarded with attention, at least enough to get hired on for one more unremarkable playing season? Jason Collins is gay; he’s not stupid. He knew exactly how lucrative his heroic stand might be. At worst, he’ll get picked up for another season or two in the NBA. The NBA likes nothing better than a spectacle. At best, he’ll get to enjoy a flicker of Collinanity (like Linsanity, but for being gay instead of being Chinese, which is equally rare in the NBA), as everywhere he goes, people cheer his heroics at revealing his sexual preferences, all while he reaps a windfall in endorsements.
I mean how can Kobe or Kevin or Blake or Chris or Paul or Lebron or Dwayne compete with an openly gay guy for endorsements? They’re just regular old heterosexuals (presumably, since they haven’t outed themselves, and professing homosexuality will soon be realized for what it is–an excellent way to get money and attention) who are very, very good at what they do. How utterly boring. And they better lay off covering Collins too tightly when he gets his new contract. Not because he’s gay and that would seem kind of icky. No, because the referees will be sure to call fouls when adversaries breathe too hard on him, like they do for other NBA celebrities.
This is a strange, strange world in which we live.