Gay Sports Blog: Wishbone #1: A Rocky Start

Follow Casey Thompson, star quarterback for the Los Angeles Condors, as he struggles to come out of the closet and win - both on and off the field of play.

Sunday, September 7, 2008, Los Angeles, California

“Coach Commons, James Myers here, Los Angeles Star-Times. I wonder if you could speak about the performance of your quarterback, Casey Thompson, today? It seems his struggles in the pre-season – as well as his poor performance at the end of last season – have kind of carried over to today’s game. Do you plan on starting him next week against Denver? Is Casey going to remain the Condors’ starter?”

As the cameras snapped and the tape recorders whirred, Coach Commons shifted in his seat.

This was the question that Commons knew had been coming since the post-game press conference began, and here it was, awaiting an answer. After a 34-3 loss to the Seahawks on opening day – a loss where second year star quarterback Casey Thompson – last season’s NFL Rookie of the Year - looked abysmal (3 interceptions, one fumble, no TDs and a QB rating of 34.6), the drum beat for benching Thompson was only going to grow.

“James, I want to be really clear about how I answer this. I know that it is the ‘thing to do’ in America, when your team is struggling, to always call for a change at QB. The backup QB is the most popular football player in every city in this country. But you know and I know that Casey is a hell of a player, and that Casey led this team – along with all our other players – to the playoffs last year. Does that answer your question?” Of course, it didn’t. And Coach Commons knew that it didn’t.

After a seemingly endless set of follow-up questions, Commons ended the press conference. On his way out of the press briefing room, Coach Commons leaned over to his Offensive Coordinator, Stan Ocasek. “Get Casey into my office, now.”

“Casey’s already gone, Coach. He set a land-speed record for showering and changing and getting outta here…”

“Where is he?” Commons demanded.

Ocasek shrugged, having no idea where Casey went after the game.

“Well, you find him, and you make sure he is in here by 1 o’clock tomorrow. In my office. We’re gonna have a nice, long talk.” Commons slammed his hand on the wall outside of his office as he headed towards the film room. It was going to be a long night, and it was definitely going to be a long meeting with Casey the next day.

________

Casey rolled back in his chair away from the TV and grabbed his phone. He put ESPN on mute – he had seen about enough of his play in today’s game, and more than enough of the running commentary. As he dialed the phone he took a long, deep draw off his beer.

“Crap. Voice mail…Greg, this is Casey. It’s about 5pm, after the game. Jesus, the game… I’m home. Come on over. Give me a call. I haven’t seen you in a while, so why don’t you come on over? Call my cell. Please.”

Casey placed the phone in his chair and went to the kitchen for another beer. As he opened the bottle, his landline rang, and he let his answering machine get it. He knew it wasn’t Greg – Greg would call the cell. And whoever it was, he didn’t want to talk.

Voice on the machine: “Wishbone? Are you there? It’s Trish. Pick up. I called your cell and you didn’t answer, and I called the locker room and they said you had already left. I thought that you might want to talk. Give me a call. I can come over, you can come here, whatever…Give me a call, honey.”

Trish Gillespie was Casey’s oldest friend, and Casey’s agent/attorney. Casey had known Trish since he was a freshman in college. They met through football. Casey was the backup freshman quarterback, who looked like he would never play. In fact, he wouldn’t have, if Greg Forman, the starting QB and Casey’s roommate, hadn’t shattered his ankle six games into Casey’s freshman year, forcing the team to turn to Casey.

When Casey was recruited to play at Wisconsin State, he was mostly an afterthought by the coaching staff. Wisconsin State had instituted a wishbone offense, and Casey Thompson was not the most mobile young quarterback ever to play college football, not by a long shot. He was stuck on the bench behind his roommate, Greg Forman. Casey would have never started at Wisconsin State – would never have become an NFL quarterback - if not for Greg’s injury. That forced the team to scrap the wishbone and play Casey.

But before Greg went down and Casey got the job, Casey, as 2nd stringer, had a whole lot of free time at daily practice sessions. And during that time, he fell into a friendship with Trish. Trish was a senior, studying sports management, and doing an internship with the football team.

Trish and Casey hit it off like thieves. They even dated for a year. Well, kind of.

Trish gave Casey his nickname, “Wishbone”. It was meant as a joke, a reference to how slow Casey was on the field, how inept he was at the wishbone offensive scheme. And everyone on the team took to it. But to Trish and Casey, it was also an inside joke about how slow Casey had been to pick up on Trish’s romantic overtures.

Trish was three years older than Casey, and by the time Casey was leaving college with the Heisman, Trish was starting her career at Rappel & Martin, the nation’s largest sports management firm. Trish’s first client – the client that made her a partner six months after being hired as an associate – was Casey Thompson.

But before Casey and Trish were attorney and client, they were best friends. And that’s what they were to this day.

So, when Trish left that phone message, Casey knew that Trish was concerned. But he wasn’t in the mood for it. “Yeah, not tonight. Tonight, Trish, I am getting the fuck out of here”, he said to himself.

Casey put his beer down, grabbed his car keys, and caught the elevator down to the basement garage.

______

Circle Bleu. Los Angeles’ newest and most over-hyped, over-Papparazzi’d nightclub, was a little off Sunset. And that’s where Casey headed. Small town Wisconsin boys, suddenly thrust into the national spot light, on the verge of failing, shouldn’t go to such places when they are drunk. But that’s what they do, and that’s what Casey did.

Casey pulled his car up and gave the keys to a valet. In an instant, there was a throng of people and photographers crowding him. He made his way into the club and headed to the VIP section, where a waiter promptly took his order. “Beer and a shot.” Casey got his drinks and decided to focus on ingesting them as fast as possible. He headed to the bar – the corner of the bar, specifically - and parked. Then he started in on the shots.

“Hey, aren’t you Casey Thompson? Don’t you play for the Condors?”

”Jesus”, Casey thought to himself. “Ten minutes into the joint, and this.”

The woman was tall, young, dark haired, and grabbing on Casey’s arm as he leaned against the bar.

“No, I’m not. It’s not me.” Casey turned away from her and kept drinking. “Hey, bartender, another shot.”

“Yeah, it’s you! I’d recognize that red hair anywhere!”

“Nope. I ain’t him. He ain’t me.” He turned away again.

The woman frowned, paused, then left. She walked over to a group of friends seated about twenty feet away. Casey could see them pointing at him, and could see that two of the men in the group were laughing.

“Jesus.” Casey was leaning over the bar, talking with the bartender. “Here we fucking go…give me another shot – looks like I’m gonna need it”.

Casey had been through this before. Most QBs had. It was an inevitable event at a bar after a home loss. And it was about to happen again. Some loud mouth sports fan was going to try and pick a fight with him to impress his girlfriend. Casey knew how to diffuse it. But tonight, he wasn’t in the mood to diffuse it. And, like clockwork, one of the men from the group came over to the bar where Casey was standing.

“Hey! Why’d you tell my girlfriend that you weren’t Casey Thompson? You sure fucking are that loser, you asshole!” The guy was wavering in his stance, and slurring his speech. Casey said nothing, and looked away.

“What are you, some kind of faggot? Won’t even look at me, eh faggot?”

The guy grabbed Casey by his shoulder and spun him around to face him.

“Yeah, asshole, I’m a big fucking faggot! And this faggot is going to beat the shit out of you!” Casey took one step forward and brought his fist as hard as he could across the guy’s jaw.

The bartender heard the jawbone snap.

______

By the time Casey was back home the next morning and had the TV turned on, it was all over the news.

“Casey Thompson, the California Condor’s star quarterback, arrested last night in bar fight.”

______

To be continued...

A Cubs and Northwestern fan, Joe Moag is a major sports junkie, and although he still runs, he hasn't been able to dunk anything more than a donut for d