The Ongoing Reformation of Micah Johnson (12 page)

“That’s nice, Micah,” Declan said. “Can I sit?”

Micah pushed a chair out with his foot. “All yours.”

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m just here as an assistant. And observer.”

“No, you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, if I didn’t it was because I thought you might freak out.”

“And why should I freak out that you’re here?” Micah asked.

“Uh, because generally you seem to freak out about anything.”

“Touché.”

“Besides,” Dec said, “I was afraid you’d think I was here to babysit you.”

“Are you?”

“Nope. You don’t think I have better things to do with my time?”

“Like watch Simon watching
Game of Thrones
?”

“I watch television too, sometimes, you know.” Dec smiled. “Besides, watching Simon is a good thing to do with my time.”

“Gross. But, okay, I guess you can stay.”

“Thank you for your permission, Micah. I mean, it’s not like this is a job I was asked to do because professionals in the field value my skills and my expertise. Although you might not be thanking me later.”

Micah got that familiar sinking feeling. “Why?”

“Because I’m giving a talk about homophobia on the field.”

Micah buried his face in his arms. “Oh fuck.”

“It’s not going to be that bad.”

“It means everybody is going to be looking at me, thinking this whole talk is on my behalf!”

“Micah,” Dec said gently, leaning over and lifting Micah’s head up so he would have to look at him. “Not everything is about you. There’s quite possibly some other kid, or kids, here wanting reassurance that they will be protected or helped if they need it. So it’s not about
you
. But you’ll benefit. Understand?”

When Micah didn’t respond, Dec manipulated his head in a nodding motion.

“Thank you,” Dec said.

“I bet you think this is funny,” Micah said through gritted teeth.

“It
is
pretty amusing.” Dec released his head, and Micah let it drop back down onto the table.

A SERIES
of sprint trials were held after lunch. Micah was pretty sure if he’d stunk before, he was positively reeking now. The first thing he wanted to do was have a shower, but all of the boys were called back into the courtyard, which had a small open-air proscenium and a scratchy sound system set up.

Dec was standing off to the side with some of the other coaches, and his presence began to be noticed by the boys. There was a murmur of excitement in the air, which once again rankled Micah for all the usual reasons. He tried to imagine Dec at seventeen years of age, at a camp not unlike this one—filled with excitement about the draft but dreading the secret he had to keep and would keep for many years to come. It helped him feel less shitty, as Micah couldn’t help but feel that neither of their situations were ideal.

And then he remembered something Simon, of all people, had said to him. That Dec had paved the way for people like Micah to find being openly gay in the AFL a little bit easier, and that although Micah would have some pretty awful experiences, he in turn would make things easier for the next gay kid to come along. That he had a part in something bigger. That he couldn’t just focus on himself.

So he bit down the bile and waited for Dec to take the stage. When he spoke he was confident, articulate, and clear. The boys were for the most part respectful, although Micah felt a few glances in his direction. Declan talked about the history of sledging, and how there were ways to taunt other players without being offensive, particularly when it came to race, sexuality, or family. How players like Nicky Winmar and Adam Goodes had challenged racist harassment, and now players knew that was unacceptable (even if the crowds didn’t at times). However, it still seemed to be open slather on gay slurs, and the issue had to be addressed.

“I can’t tell you
not
to sledge,” Dec said. “Nor can I claim that I never did it. But I was always careful to try and do it in a funnier way, rather than a personal or offensive way. Everybody has their Achilles’ heel, but it’s best to attack it physically through domineering on the field rather than emotionally. Also, when I say attack, I don’t mean to go out of your way to injure people deliberately. Football is dangerous enough as it is. I’m sure that a lot of you, even at so young an age, already have scars from a life in sport. Don’t add to them.”

He spoke with passion but also with grit. He talked about how sledging could personally target family, and how Simon had often been a target. That he’d tried to ignore it, but sometimes it had gotten the better of him, and he had lashed out.

Even though he didn’t speak about it, Micah knew it was generally believed Dec lost the Brownlow Medal one year because he had had too many fights on the field. He had been the main contender for the medal that year, until he came out. He wondered how many of the other boys knew that, and if anything Dec was saying was at all sinking in.

“So, any questions?”

“I have one,” someone yelled out, and Micah didn’t have to guess.

“Boyd? Sure.”

Micah should have been surprised that Dec knew him already, but it would just be like Dec to try to learn every boy’s name before he had to work with them. Or, more likely, he already knew, as he would have been following the draft process and was aware of the most likely contenders.

“Look,” Boyd said, standing with his hands on his hips. “It’s all nice and everything to talk about social justice and human rights, but it never gets taken into account how the normal people feel.”

“Well, first I’d have to question your use of the word ‘normal,’” Dec said with an edge.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, I think I know what you mean, but it’s also bordering on offensive if you’re implying that anyone who isn’t white and straight isn’t normal.”

“But that’s it, isn’t it?” Boyd asked. “We all have to be so bloody sensitive all the time just in case we hurt somebody’s feelings. We’re here to play football, not to use good manners.”

“No reason why you can’t do both,” Dec said. “And it’s not asking you to be sensitive. It’s just asking you to try not to be an arsehole.”

There was an excited chatter among the boys. Micah couldn’t read the mood in the air, whether they were on Dec’s or Boyd’s side, or whether they were just excited to hear yet another AFL player swear at them.

“But no one seems to care how we feel,” Boyd said. He looked like he was starting to get pissed off.

“And how do you feel?” Dec asked.

“I think that we should feel safe. Like, I know I don’t want any gay guys in the change rooms, where they can check me out. Girls wouldn’t want to share their change rooms with guys.”

“So you’re saying men are unable to control themselves?” Dec asked. “Because that’s going to be another talk altogether tomorrow.”

“Will you be handling the girl talk?” Boyd asked. “Because you may not have the experience.”

There was a stunned silence. And judging by the look on Boyd’s face, even he realised he had gone too far.

“You might need some extra counselling on the issue of respect,” Dec said.

By now Micah was past fuming. The level of disrespect just shown to Dec was unbelievable, and the fact that no other coach had stepped in to reprimand Boyd reminded Micah that when it came down to it, the gays could really only count on themselves.

And so, as usual, Micah found himself on his feet and mouthing off. He didn’t even wait for Dec to acknowledge him. “To take the point Boyd so eloquently made, I would like to know exactly how they would segregate the gay players from the normals, and how it would be enforced for the safety of the normal players?”

“Once again, I’d like to take issue with the word ‘normal,’” Dec began.

“Just sit down, Johnson,” Boyd yelled across the quadrant.

Micah turned to him and directed his questioning. “Are you going to ask everyone to prove their heterosexuality before they get in the door? Produce proof that they have a girlfriend? Because, newsflash, until I came out, my teammates were pretty sure I had a girlfriend. She wasn’t; she knew I was gay, and we were just friends, but she was willing to help me out so they never suspected anything.”

“Probably shouldn’t have got caught pashing your boyfriend in public, then.” Boyd looked to the other boys, expecting them to join in. There was a smattering of laughter in response.

“I think—” Dec tried to get in.

Micah rode over him. “Oh, believe me, it was more than pashing.”

Boyd actually looked a little green, but some boys laughed. Whether for him or against him, Micah couldn’t even hazard to guess.

“But maybe people should just be free to live their lives so they don’t have to resort to such a level of subterfuge.”

“That’s all right to say when you’re the one making others uncomfortable,” Boyd fired back.

“Well, maybe some people should stop obsessing about other guys looking at their dick.”

Declan briefly closed his eyes. “There may be an element of that, although I probably would have put it another way.”

“Or secretly hoping that other guys
are
looking at their dick,” Micah finished with a flourish.

“Let’s not go that far,” Dec said as Boyd yelled, “What the fuck are you saying, mate?”

“Oh, I’m not your mate,” Micah said. “I’m just saying you probably want to mate. With a dude.”

Boyd rushed over to Micah, who stood his ground. Before Boyd could reach him, though, a number of coaches pulled him back. Micah smirked, which only infuriated Boyd more as the coaches removed him. The smirk dropped when some approached him to do the same thing.

“And that,” Dec said with a sigh, “is why sledging can escalate into something completely worse.” The microphone squealed as he walked off stage.

“WE’VE ALREADY
talked with Boyd about this, Micah,” Dec said.

“I hope you gave him the raking over the coals you gave me.” Micah stared into the distance just over Dec’s shoulder to at least try to pretend he was looking at him and giving his full attention.

“Will you look at me when you’re talking to me, please,” Dec said, but with enough of an edge to show Micah he was serious. “I’d be less worried about what was said to him, and more about what’s being said to you.”

Micah stared at him head-on, his tone dripping with scorn. “So once again the homophobe escapes punishment, and the person who stands up to them gets the shit?”

He looked across the now-empty quadrant, his eyes burning. He was flanked by Declan and Marks, who he guessed was meant to be the equivalent of his dorm mother. Although that meant he was Boyd’s dorm mother as well, and Micah already guessed whose side he would take, gay son or no.

“Nobody is getting punished,” Marks said. “It was a spirited discussion, which got a little bit out of hand.”

“A little bit out of hand? He basically wants people like me to be in separate showers from him!”

“And do you see us starting that in this camp? People like Boyd are going to have to get with the times, especially if they want to exist in a world alongside
other
people. And that goes for you, too, Micah. You can’t go off your head every time someone says something you don’t like. Or else you’ll never stop fighting. Did you listen to anything Declan said up on that stage?”

“He can have selective hearing,” Dec said drily.

“Well, listen to me, then,” Marks told Micah. “Dec knows what he’s talking about. And he’ll give you the best advice about how to deal with your situation—more than anybody else at this camp. You’ve had access to his knowledge for almost a year now, from what I’ve heard. Stop ignoring it.”

Marks left them without a good-bye.

Micah sat down on one of the benches in silence, his feet scuffing the dirt.

Declan took the spot next to him and let the silence settle. Micah knew silence didn’t disturb Dec—he often welcomed it.

However, Micah didn’t.

“I don’t
always
ignore you,” he told Dec.

“No, maybe not. But you do a great majority of the time,” Dec replied. “You know, before I had to talk to you and Boyd, I was raked over the coals myself. I had a difficult time convincing them to let me do this talk in the first place. This proved them right.”

“Why would they not want you to do the talk?”

Declan gave him the side-eye. “Because things might happen that just happened here.”

“I’m really, really sorry.” And Micah meant it. “But they must know it happens, and they have to confront it.”

“They do. But you just can’t go around looking for a fight all the time, Micah.”

“Even if other people are starting it?”

“Do you think I would have lasted two games in the league if I went after every guy who sledged me on the field?”

“You did used to fight them sometimes,” Micah reminded him.

Dec nodded. “And I had to stop that. I had Simon to help me, granted, but I also had friends like Abe who were on my team and helped pull me away before I did anything really stupid. You’re going to have to find that support too. And maybe you’ll find it by stopping being so antagonistic.”

“Well, maybe times are changing. Maybe it’s time to be angry and stop taking their shit.”

Dec’s eyes widened with fury, and Micah actually felt like jumping off the seat and running off into the hills. He had never seen Dec so angry. “You think I took their shit? I didn’t! I found other ways to deal with it. It’s time you fucking grew up, Micah. Or in a year’s time, you’re going to be sitting at home wondering why your career never got off the ground.”

“It’s not like anybody else sprang to
your
defence when Boyd was disrespecting you,” Micah argued. “I had to say something.”

Dec sighed, and he sounded so tired Micah almost wanted to hug him. “And do you think maybe the other coaches didn’t step in because they knew I could handle it, and if they said anything, it might weaken my position? If it wasn’t for people like Marks supporting me, and supporting this cause, I may not have even been here today. Or I would have been, as long as I didn’t start any ‘controversial’ talks. But that’s
you
all over, Micah. You don’t think.”