By Adam Amel Rogers
One of my favorite lines from the film Rudy is when Rudy's dad first sees Notre Dame Stadium and he musters up all emotion to utter, "This is the most beautiful sight these eyes have ever seen."

That is what I expected to feel when I had the opportunity to sit in Staples Center and watch Jason Collins take the court as the first active openly gay professional male athlete in one of the four major American team sports (phew, we certainly have added enough modifiers to that statement).

The gay world and the sports world have played such vital roles in my life and I've been one of the many gay fans who have spent years craving a moment where our passions collide and an openly gay professional athlete enters a game.

We have built this moment up for so long that I couldn't believe it was going to happen in a time and place where I would be lucky enough to witness it.

However, reality ended up being nothing like my imagination.

When my husband and I picked up our tickets at Staples, I said, "big game, huh?" The ticket office guy looked confused as to how the tragic Kobe-less Lakers could be in any kind of a big game right now. He clearly didn't know that a barrier was about to be broken.

We took our seats and I wondered why no one was talking about the fact that history was going to occur just a few feet in front of us. Finally the sushi-eating couple behind us started talking about it. The man said, "oh, Jason Collins is going to play tonight." His wife asked, "which one is he again?" The man replied, "He's the local guy from Harvard-Westlake High School."

Oy. Did anyone understand the gravity of the situation?

Sitting next to me was a 20-something die-hard Lakers fan who thought if he timed his scream perfectly, it would cause Deron Williams to miss his free throws. With his exuberance for yelling things, I wondered what would be uttered when Collins took the court, but all I got was silence. He did express concern over which team we were rooting for though. When he asked, we said we are Lakers fans, but we are excited about Jason Collins' historical moment. He replied, "Oh, that's cool."

He didn't care. And he wasn't alone.

You can see it on my video of when Jason was announced into the game. We screamed our support and we looked around to find polite applause and a smattering of people standing, but it wasn't the Rudy type moment that it was in my head.

But, it also wasn't negative. We didn't hear any audible boos or anti-gay epithets yelled. The religious protestors outside the game apparently are there for every game. The entire experience ended up being void of pomp and circumstance.

Chalk some of the non-reaction up to the fact that us Lakers fans don't really know how to cheer for anything right now, but overall I think the ho-hum reaction indicates fan progress.

What about on the court though? We've all endured ad nauseam questions about how teammates and opponents will react to someone with a different orientation on the court. I watched so intently -- Jason put his hand up for a high-five, was Paul Pierce going to grant the request? Yes, he did. Jason made a good play and Joe Johnson slapped him on the butt. He was knocked down on defense and three of his teammates helped him up. There was nothing different at all. In retrospect, why would there be?

After a few minutes on the court, my husband stopped snapping pictures, my giddiness subsided and it became evident that Jason Collins didn't want or need any pomp or circumstance; he was just a guy who wanted to live authentically and still have his job. Not too much to ask.

The muted response is not to say that there is no work to do. I am conducting a research project on the social media reaction to Michael Sam and Jason Collins and I can assure you that not everyone is happy about there being openly gay players in sports leagues. In addition to those who are openly vitriolic, there is a larger group of fans who express a common theme of what ESPN's Kate Fagan smartly calls "coded language" like, "Why is this news?" or "Why can't he just keep it to himself?"

The most common theme in initial data is a mocking proclamation along the lines of, "I am going to announce that I am straight." Trust me, I don't like these big announcements any more than you do. I look forward to when a gay player can just bypass the hype and go straight to mentioning his family casually in interviews and have no problem kissing his husband in public after a game like professional bowler Scott Norton did.

There is also a lot of work to do outside of the sports world.

Arizona is one of a handful of states considering legislation that would make it legal to refuse service to LGBT people. Perhaps my Mom said it best, when she replied to my Jason Collins exuberance by saying, "I hope when the Brooklyn Nets play in Phoenix there will be a place for Jason Collins to eat." I will add to this by noting that if Collins lived in Uganda or Nigeria or 75 other countries, he would be like the thousands of LGBT people desperately seeking asylum because of who they are.

Perhaps when those inequalities are gone I will get my Rudy level of emotional response.

Photo Credit: Matt Harris

by Adam Amel Rogers, Originally posted on change.org
I was born a Denver Broncos fan. Seriously. There wasn’t very much choice in the matter.

On Sundays, my family didn’t go to church, we put on our Broncos gear and watched the game. Some of my most cherished memories involve meeting the players at training camp or screaming my head off at Mile High Stadium. Years later and 1,000 miles away, my passion and affinity for my team is alive and well (I almost succeeded in getting a blue and orange wedding … almost). So, like most other football fans, I was glued to the TV during this year’s NFL draft to meet the new Broncos.  Little did I know that my team was going to make the biggest move of the draft by trading up to take Tim Tebow.

Yes, that Tim Tebow. The Tim Tebow who is arguably one of the best college football players ever and who seems like a good guy with a good heart.

So what’s the problem?

The problem is that I am pretty sure that Tim Tebow doesn’t like me. In his defense, I actually don’t know for sure — to my knowledge he has never gone on the record in saying anything about gay people at all, but if someone were ever guilty by association it would be Tim Tebow. He made headlines a few months ago for appearing in a Focus on the Family Super Bowl ad. Yes, the same Focus on the Family that has demonized and attacked the LGBT community at every turn. And it isn’t just his association with Focus that has me worried; it seems like he is the hero of every organization that I abhor. Some have even painted him as the future savior of the social conservative movement in America — which is probably true. Tebow could run for Congress in virtually any district south of the Mason-Dixon line and win in a landslide.

I will try to retain hope that just because Tebow rolls with an anti-gay crew doesn’t mean that he believes my husband and I have committed hell-worthy trespasses, but even if he does have a problem with gay people — should it matter to me?

If I didn’t root for every homophobic professional athlete, I’m not sure I would be very fun to watch games with. In fact, I don’t think I would be very good real-life friends with most professional athletes. The greatest Bronco of all time, Mr. John Elway, has revealed himself as a proud conservative who even introduced President Bush at a speech in Denver. Should that change my view of his on-field heroics? How about one of my favorite basketball players, Allen Iverson? Among many other problems, he based an entire rap career around anti-gay epithets — am I losing my integrity by cheering for him? I hope not, because I don’t think that boycotting anti-gay players is the answer.

Instead, I think it is important to come out as a gay sports fan and let these players know that their gay fans are watching and their anti-gay behavior is harmful. Hopefully with time, we will be able to fill the sports world with more Scott Fujita’s and less Larry Johnson’s.

So, Mr. Tebow you are officially on notice that I am rooting for you to succeed as a Bronco, but I am also rooting for you to sever your ties with the anti-gay industry and embrace ALL of your fans.

Here’s Hoping.

Photo Credit: OPEN sports

by Adam Amel Rogers, Originally posted on change.org
What does it mean to be a man? Does it mean not crying? Being the family breadwinner? Using power tools? Watching the football game with beer in hand?

Despite select advancements in gender equality and the fact that it is 2010 –- a time when we probably should have already progressed passed this, these are still the images of manhood that are overwhelmingly marketed to us.

Professional sports are an area where this narrow idea of manliness is highly exaggerated. Many Super Bowl commercials this year focused on ignoring nagging wives, choosing beer over love, and never ever showing emotion.

Perhaps this is expected in football, but recently the manhood debate has overtaken men’s figure skating as well. The figure skating power structure has been pinning all of its hopes on American Evan Lysacek to change the sport’s image and create a more mainstream appeal (i.e. straight appeal). Because Lysacek focuses more on the athletic jumps side of the sport than the bedazzled beautiful elegant side, he is somehow considered more of a man, than say fellow American skater Johnny Weir.

Weir scares the figure skating leadership. He wears extravagant outfits, he skates to Lady Gaga and he is completely and unapologetically himself. He isn’t technically “out,” but he isn’t exactly “in” either. There are few people in the public eye with more of a gay sensibility than Johnny Weir.

The stark differences between Evan and Johnny have created a black and white narrative in which the two are competing for the future of the sport. Or as Weir so eloquently put it, “They’ve sort of pitted me and Evan against each other like Britney and Christina,” says Weir. “I’m Christina, of course.”

Yes Johnny, you will always be Christina in my book, but as far as skating, the great butch hope won this round –- Lysacek rescued the masculine spirit of figure skating with his shiny new gold medal.  Or at least, that is the story the figure skating world will try to put out there.

The real story is that Weir worked hard, he was always true to himself and he proved that you don’t have to fit into a predetermined box to be a man. I am of the opinion that it didn’t matter what Johnny did on the ice this week, those judges were not going to let him or his fabulous crown of roses onto the podium.

The powers-that-be in the figure skating world got what they wanted, but to them and to others, I offer a warning: If you continue placating to the mainstream, your world of Evan Lysacek, Kris Allen and Taylor Swift will deeply miss the creative contributions of the Johnny Weir, Adam Lambert and Lady Gaga world that you continue to shun.

I am a man and I’m on Team Weir!

Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons

by Adam Amel Rogers, Originally posted by the USC Annenberg Norman Lear Center

Most Americans learned that the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team beat Russia in real-time when commentator Al Michaels emphatically screamed "Do you believe in miracles?" The victory was arguably the best moment in U.S. Olympic history and people all over the country cheered in unison. If that same epic moment were to happen today, many Americans would probably find out like this:

RT @ESPN Do u believ 'n miracles? @USA beats @USSR 4-3! #CoolOlympicMoment

Technology has put every bit of necessary (and unnecessary) information at our fingertips, and while the benefits of our Immediate Gratification Culture are immense, one major drawback is the demise of synchronized media experiences that allow us to applaud or groan in unison with the rest of the viewing community.

Social media platforms feed on entertainment content. A Lear Center informal study of Twitter's trending topics in May/June 2009 revealed that 56% of the most talked about topics on Twitter were entertainment focused. Social media offers people the opportunity to find affinity communities to share their confusion about the latest Lost episode or their disgust over who heard auf Wiedersehen that week on Project Runway. However, it also dramatically increases the possibility that those same shows will be spoiled for other viewers.

Some consider it uncouth to post a spoiling Facebook status in our time-shifting culture, while others are of the "if you don't want to know, then don't DVR the show" school of thought. The latter is probably fair in the case of time-shifters - if it takes you three days to finally watch who was kicked off American Idol, then you don't have much room to complain about a social media spoiler. However, if you live on the West Coast, you should feel free to continue complaining about spoilers induced by discriminatory time-zone practices.

Networks have been time-zoneist since the beginning of television. All content is created for the Eastern Time Zone and it trickles down from there. I understand the overall reasoning, but exceptions need to be made for appointment-viewing TV shows.

A 2008 Lear Center report entitled "The Future of Television" says that "appointment television" has mostly been killed by the Internet and DVRs, but that "sporting events such as the Super Bowl and the NBA playoffs, and unscripted shows like American Idol and the Academy Awards can still bring a whole family together in front of a TV."

One of the punishments of living in Los Angeles is that even though we host all the award shows, we don't get to watch any of them in real time (except for those lucky few with East Coast feeds). Therefore, if Pacific viewers want to watch without spoilers, they have to live in an isolation booth for hours before the show begins. It isn't a case of just avoiding Facebook and Twitter; the ticker on CNN will show results, major newspaper sites will announce winners and media email alerts will fill your inbox with dreaded spoilers.

I will give credit to many on the East Coast who are cognizant of this and will try hard during award shows to not give away too much, but even their vague status updates can be problematic. For example, when my Facebook news feed was filled with "I can't believe Kanye did that" statuses during the MTV Video Music Awards, it still spoiled the impact of seeing him steal the microphone from that young woman who stole Beyonce's rightful award.

There are calls for someone to steal the Olympics from NBC. Viewers understood time-delay content during the Torino and Beijing Olympics, but since Vancouver is in the Pacific Time Zone, the lack of live content has been surprising. I am an avid Olympics enthusiast, but I have yet to see an important moment from the Vancouver Olympics in real-time.

While I was watching the qualifying round for the Snowboard Cross, a tweet from the Wall Street Journal informed me that American Seth Wescott had won Gold... in the Snowboard Cross. While I was gearing up for Bode Miller's Olympic return, ESPN.com told me that he won a bronze medal. All Olympic drama has been removed because NBC is saving all top content for their primetime Olympic slot - which is when the most people are watching, but how many of those people already know the results?

I hope future technological advancements will somehow level the playing field and allow people to consume the content that they want on their own timeline, without spoilers.

Is there an app for that?