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Matt
Matt’s smile was thin and unconvincing as he deflected yet another joke from the tough-as-nails cab driver who’d picked him up at JFK. If he’d heard one person tell him that he didn’t ‘look like a sports journalist’, then he’d heard a thousand. People rarely said out loud that it was because of his sexuality – but at the same time, people didn’t seem to realize that it was still pretty blatant when they didn’t say it.
“That right?” he said dryly, his neat West Coast accent a stark contrast against the cab driver’s sharp Brooklyn twang. “That’s funny. What does a sports journalist look like?”
This was the point when most people realized how obvious they were being, and at least had the decency to look embarrassed. This cab driver, however, was part of the other group who still thought they were being subtle. “Man, I don’t know,” he said, glancing back at Matt in the mirror. “Just... big, you know? Bold pinstripe suit. Broad shoulders. The works.”
“I see.”
“The kind of guy you’d cross the street to avoid at night. You know what I’m saying?”
Matt didn’t answer, and eventually the cab driver gave up. If the guy heard Matt’s name, then he’d probably recognize that – but Matt counted himself lucky that the public didn’t really know his face. Those in the industry probably could; he popped up in the crowd at many major hockey games, and at Formula One races. His opinion was respected.
Apparently, his style choice of a modern, crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and burgundy trousers were not. Or was it his tidy dark hair that tipped the driver off?
In any case, it didn’t matter. So long as they got to the stadium in good time, then Matt didn’t care. At least the driver was good at that. Honestly, he was looking forward to this job. He respected Chris Knoll as a player, and had since his college career began. He was just one of the players Matt hadn’t managed to cross paths with yet. Well, that was about to change.
Would three weeks be enough time to get to know the guy? Matt wasn’t sure. Some athletes were fairly simple figures, happy to let you into their lives as you profiled them. Others seemed intent on remaining as much of an enigma as possible, often alternating between kindness and aggression depending on the day. Matt tried to be as pleasant an interviewer as he could, forming good relationships with his subjects.
It wasn’t always possible. Especially with the homophobic ones.
It was a shame how common homophobia remained in the sport. As the rest of the country progressed, this industry remained slow and sequestered in the closet, crowded with overstated masculinity and intense pressure for queer men to keep their secrets.
It wasn’t healthy. Hopefully, things would begin to change. It’d certainly make his job a lot easier. Unfortunately, it would require a lot more top-level athletes to come out before things changed – and the disrespectful way the fans and the media reacted whenever anybody did come out seemed to discourage other men from trying.
In short, Chris Knoll probably wasn’t gay.
But Matt could look.
At long last, the cab pulled up outside the stadium. Matt gathered his things, leaving the cab driver a healthy tip as he settled his bill.
Well, driving around the city was probably a pretty stressful job. The guy had just been a little insensitive, probably because he wasn’t used to talking to gay people; he hadn’t really meant any harm. If he had, he’d have lost more than a tip.
He had made a good time over to the stadium. As it turned out, he was so early for his first meeting with Chris that the player was still in practice. Actually, though, this was a good thing; Matt liked the idea of slipping into the stands and watching him interact with his teammates. It was a good way to get a first handle on a subject. Did he get along with the rest of the team, Matt wondered, or was he a loner?
It’d be a surprise if he was. Good strategic thinking like Chris’s tended to come from good knowledge of his fellow players – at least, it did in Matt’s experience. As such, he expected to see strong bonds between Chris and the rest of the time, despite his star status. Whether he’d see any arrogance despite that, however, remained to be seen.
Stepping into the stadium, he felt the same rush of excitement as he did before a match. Whatever the cab driver might have guessed, Matt was perfect for sports journalism. He had as much passion for the game as any of the players he was writing about. The results meant a lot to him; the analysis was carefully tendered. By the same token, he knew exactly what kind of drills he was looking at as he settled into a seat, one long slim leg crossed over the other, and began watching the Rangers train.
Chris Knoll was certainly handsome, even with his helmet obscuring some of his features. He had a firm jaw and piercing green eyes – clear skin and broad shoulders. He had an appealing bark of a laugh that echoed across the ice, and a smile that shone out just as conspicuous.
It was a relief to see that his good nature wasn’t just put on for the cameras. He got along well with his teammates, as predicted; he was playful with his manager and trainers and seemed to get away with murder.
Yes – he’d be one hell of a subject. Matt would just have to make sure he didn’t get distracted. It had rarely been a problem before, but players were rarely as handsome as Chris Knoll was. Even then, they were rarely so close to Matt’s type...
