‘Big Yeti' Travis Kelce goes shirtless in Miami after sweaty NFL training session
Travis Kelce showed fans exactly why his nickname is 'Big Yeti' with a shirtless appearance in Miami on Tuesday.
The Kansas City Chiefs tight end removed his black baseball cap and peeled off his black T-shirt to towel off outside an SUV following an intense NFL training workout.
In nothing but his black Nike Jordan athletic shorts, Kelce's copious back and chest hair were on full display while wiping sweat off with a gray towel.
The athlete appeared to have exhausted himself during the workout before ditching his shirt.
Pals Kumar Ferguson and Ross Travis, who joined the NFL star for the training session, also appeared to have worked up a sweat.
Eventually, a still-shirtless Kelce was seen getting into the vehicle with his gray towel.
The famed athlete is reportedly prepping for the upcoming season in Florida while residing at a sprawling $20 million mansion in Boca Raton in the Royal Palm Yacht & Country Club.
According to the Daily Mail, Kelce has been focusing on an intense fitness regimen while renting the lavish property since April, following the Chief's Super Bowl loss to the Philadelphia Eagles.
The Chiefs player's hairy appearance comes over a year after he discussed the apropos nickname with brother Jason Kelce during a February 2024 appearance on his 'New Heights' podcast.
'When Trav was at Cincinnati, he would play basketball in the playground quite a bit,' the Philadelphia Eagles alum said of his brother's time at the University of Cincinnati, 'and anyone who has ever played pickup basketball, you know there's shirts and skins.'
'Shirts and skins dog, that's the only way to separate the teams,' Travis replied.
'I had the big beard, I had the long hair. I had the chest hair, back hair, arm hair, leg hair. It's just a big ole Yeti out there, man,' he continued. 'All the homies on the court were calling me 'Big Yeti.''
Travis, 35, was most recently spotted supporting teammate Patrick Mahomes in Las Vegas at the Mahomies Foundation Gala on Thursday — sans girlfriend Taylor Swift, 35.
Prior to that, the football star was seen celebrating his mom Donna at a Mother's Day brunch in Philadelphia — and this time, Swift was right by his side.
Also at the family event, held at Talula's Garden restaurant in the City of Brotherly Love, were brother Jason and sister-in-law Kylie Kelce.
A source told Page Six that the famous couple was not seated in a private area but sat among the general crowd, and that at least some of Jason's daughters were present for the celebration.
Travis and the 'Blank Space' hitmaker have been dating since the summer of 2023, though the singer has been keeping a low profile since the end of her Eras tour in December and Travis' devastating Super Bowl loss in February.
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New York Times
26 minutes ago
- New York Times
Jalen Ramsey and the current state of the Vikings at cornerback
EAGAN, Minn. — The Minnesota Vikings brass, defensive coordinator Brian Flores, his staff and players want opposing teams to see their logo on the schedule and sense an oncoming headache. It hasn't been enough for Flores' defense to bring an all-out blitz, then fake the all-out blitz. It hasn't been enough to play one nontraditional coverage on the back end; the Vikings have introduced dozens of them. More is planned, and the next iteration remains anyone's guess. Advertisement Just listen to defensive tackle Harrison Phillips' comments Monday after another OTA practice. 'We would like to have so many different bullets in the chamber,' he said. 'Vastly different fronts, vastly different coverages. Are we going to move and bring everybody? Are we not going to move and bring everybody?' Phillips mentioned personnel additions like defensive tackles Jonathan Allen and Javon Hargrave. He talked about the development of Dallas Turner. You could tell how excited he was to talk about the defensive front, and still, it felt fair to wonder: But what about the secondary (specifically, the cornerback spot)? To this point, none of the Vikings' actions suggests they're concerned. They prioritized re-signing Byron Murphy Jr. in free agency and targeted Isaiah Rodgers and Jeff Okudah. Coach Kevin O'Connell even referenced Flores' rosy evaluation of Rodgers in March at the NFL league meetings. Flores and the Vikings' personnel department have not missed when identifying free-agent talent over the past couple of seasons. Still, this level of conviction in two journeyman players is notable, especially as the pool of potential contributors continues to dry up. This is the time to get ahead and take our team to another level.#Skol — Minnesota Vikings (@Vikings) June 2, 2025 One big fish is still out there, and he's down in Miami. Multiple Vikings staffers are familiar with Jalen Ramsey. O'Connell coordinated the Los Angeles Rams offense in 2021, when Ramsey last earned All-Pro honors. Offensive coordinator Wes Phillips, edge rushers coach Thad Bogardus, defensive line coach Marcus Dixon and vice president of player health and performance Tyler Williams spent time with Ramsey on that Rams staff. But there's some risk involved. Ramsey will turn 31 in October. Acquiring him might require trading draft capital the Vikings have wanted to accumulate after parting with several picks the last couple of seasons. Advertisement There are two other considerations. First, Ramsey's current contract could leave the Vikings in a precarious position for 2026. The amount of money Miami might be willing to absorb in a potential trade would matter. Second, bringing Ramsey into the fold would impede the path to playing time for youngsters like Mekhi Blackmon and Dwight McGlothern. Minnesota is spending more than $357 million on the 2025 roster, which is the most in the NFL. This isn't a Super Bowl-or-bust situation, but the Vikings are unquestionably committed to winning in the short term. If Ramsey or any other available cornerback maximizes those chances, you can bet there has been an internal conversation about it. Then again, maybe the Vikings' key decision-makers feel the same way Blackmon does about the present state of the cornerback position. 'We got a real good room,' Blackmon said Monday. 'I see a lot of stuff on Twitter. Y'all know. A lot of people are concerned about our room. I would say we have a real good room.' Gleaning anything meaningful from organized team activities is difficult, but certain sequences stand out. One of them Monday involved Rodgers, who floated across the field with receiver Jordan Addison toward the left sideline. Quarterback J.J. McCarthy attempted a layered pass in Addison's direction, but Rodgers undercut the throw and secured the interception. Many of Rodgers' teammates hooted and hollered, and Rodgers celebrated as he raced the other way. O'Connell stepped in next to McCarthy for what appeared to be a brief teaching moment — or to compliment McCarthy for his willingness to try that type of pass in a learning setting. Whatever the case, Rodgers displayed the kind of athleticism and ball skills the Vikings coveted. They would not say it publicly if this were the case, but the Vikings staff could also think highly enough of their pass rush to skate by without further investment at cornerback. It's not just Allen and Hargrave joining the fold. It's the types of stunts and games the Vikings can implement in another season with Flores. Opposing teams got rid of the ball against the Vikings at one of the quickest rates in the league last season. Improve the pass rush, and the Vikings might view their countless zone coverages (with man changeups) as enough. 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New York Times
27 minutes ago
- New York Times
How a phone call from a college football legend reset Sean McVay's coaching career
Sean McVay still has the voicemail from two years ago. He hasn't listened to it since, but plays it now as he lays his iPhone flat on the desk beside him. 'Sean, this is Chris Petersen calling. I am the former head coach at Boise State and the University of Washington … ' Petersen's voice is warm and earnest. 'I've just been thinkin' about ya. I know you're going through some hard times … ' Advertisement As he listens, McVay is the picture of control, from his hair slicked into its signature shark fin to his matching athleisure set and spotless sneakers. But then his eyes fill with tears, and he doesn't swipe them away. Petersen called McVay in January 2023 after seeing clips of him following the Los Angeles Rams' disastrous 2022 season, when McVay admitted he was contemplating leaving coaching just one year after becoming the NFL's youngest Super Bowl-winning head coach. When Petersen saw McVay's hollow-eyed expression and heard his hoarse voice, he knew there was more at work than a dismal season record and professional fatigue. 'Oh my stars, I know this guy,' Petersen said to himself. 'I know this story.' So he picked up his phone. That voicemail was an outstretched hand to a broken man. Petersen, who in 2019 suddenly stepped away from his career as one of the most successful coaches in college football history, has become a mentor, confidant, friend and adviser to McVay as the young coach worked his way out of what he calls the hardest year of his life. 'You're in the middle of a storm. It's real gray; things are cloudy,' McVay said. 'He saw that press conference. I was crying out for help, I just didn't realize I was.' More than two years after their first conversation, McVay, 39, credits Petersen's support as a significant part of his long-term recommitment to coaching. 'He has helped me see this game and this profession in (such) a totally different lens that the idea of not coaching feels so laughable,' said McVay. 'I get so much more joy out of things that I just didn't give a s— about before.' The head coach of Boise State from 2006-13 and Washington from 2014-19, the 60-year-old Petersen is a college football legend. His teams were energetic, creative and daring — the stuff of sports fairy tales. Petersen helped Boise State take down touchdown-plus favorite Oklahoma in the 2007 Fiesta Bowl as a first-year head coach, earning national fascination for his audacious use of trick plays in key situations that he called into the headset with an icy stare. The Broncos went undefeated that year, and from 2008-11 became the first FBS team to reach 50 wins over four years. The first two-time winner of the Paul 'Bear' Bryant Coach of the Year award, Petersen became well-known in coaching circles for the quality of the culture built for his staff and players. Advertisement When Jimmy Lake arrived to coach defensive backs in 2012, he said he 'wanted to know what the whole 'Boise State mystique' was all about.' It took him about a month. Petersen's staff meetings often wouldn't cover football at all. Instead, 'it was all about life and life lessons,' Lake said. 'It would really pour into our staff and it helped me become a better father, a better husband, a better friend. The way that it was presented, it was really all-encompassing of life. Of course, you could also then use those examples to help you in coaching your players.' To Lake, the energy at Petersen's program felt very different than his previous five years as an NFL assistant. The staff spent time together instead of shut away in their respective offices. People said 'good morning' to each other. During summer practices, Petersen held drills and games where groups of players from different positions teamed up to compete. Lake noticed deep into the season that players outside of their respective position groups hung out with each other. He realized that everything Petersen built into their daily routine included some method of bringing them all closer. 'Anywhere else I'd been, we're locked in our meeting rooms, and we're trying to get the X's and O's right, we're trying to get the technique and fundamentals of football right,' Lake said. 'First and foremost for Chris Petersen, it was making sure the culture and the connections were right. That said a lot. Then all the X's and O's fell into place. 'That's where you could feel it — the vibe and the energy in being around people (was) what the difference was.' To those inside the program, it felt like Petersen's methods would last, like maybe they had found a new model for building a team and a culture. But looking back, all the warnings of an incoming crash are now clear to Petersen. They just hid under his success. Petersen went 92-12 in eight seasons in Boise but said he started to feel himself 'sliding backwards.' 'I wasn't as good of a coach, wasn't as good of a leader, probably wasn't as good of a person as I could be,' he said. 'I felt myself becoming cynical, frustrated, short.' Advertisement Peterson's wife, Barbara, suggested counseling, maybe even a new occupation. He was skeptical that any person outside of his world could make sense of the stresses that came with it. He tried to ignore how he felt. Then, in 2014, Washington offered Petersen its vacant head coaching job. Petersen had turned down chances at bigger-name programs for years — he twice interviewed at USC but withdrew his candidacy each time. Now he was ready to make a move. 'I laugh when I say this to you now, but I'm thinking, Well, maybe I just need a new set of problems,' he said. 'There were some really appealing things about Washington, don't get me wrong. But what I was going through, I'm thinking, OK, maybe if I throw away my problems and take on a new set of problems, that will solve my problem.' Petersen threw himself into overhauling the Huskies program with so much energy that he now calls the process 'numbing.' Then came the winning. After his first season at Washington, he became the fastest FBS coach to reach 100 wins, which he did in just 117 games. In his third season, Washington won 12 games before losing to Alabama in the College Football Playoff and finishing the year ranked No. 4. But winning couldn't stave off the old feelings. Despite consecutive 10-win seasons in 2017 and 2018, Petersen started sliding again and believed he was dragging his team down. He loved his job, loved his staff and his players, but he didn't understand himself. On Dec. 2 2019, he resigned. Lake, then Petersen's defensive coordinator and soon to be his successor as Washington's head coach, said the decision came as a total shock. He was that good at hiding his struggle. Petersen wanted to visit other programs to see if they had some secret to handling pressure and managing the job he hadn't yet found. But a few months into his break, the COVID-19 pandemic shut down travel and in-person contact, and Petersen was forced to spend a lot of time alone with himself and his thoughts. 'Had (I been) able to travel, I would have been going and chasing all of the wrong answers,' he said. He knew he would have gravitated toward schematic or structural developments, 'and not really thinking about, how do I get better?' Advertisement Petersen began to study his own psychology and the uniquely competitive and public space that football coaches occupy, which he calls 'the arena.' 'The arena can squeeze you and narrow you so quickly to certainly a lesser version — or the worst version — of yourself extremely easily,' he said. 'You have to have a plan. You have to be almost counter-culture. Like, you have to work against everything society is telling you and rewarding you for.' Two years into Petersen's learnings, he saw McVay on television and reached for his phone. Each offseason during his first six years as the head coach of the Rams, McVay became briefly aware he wasn't feeling right. 'I couldn't pinpoint what it was,' he said. 'Imbalances or just … I knew I was running a race that wasn't sustainable.' He usually pushed the feeling away. He didn't have time for much else in his pursuit of a championship. Was he tired? He'd disappear for just a few days and rest before returning to work at his typical obsessive pace. Mentally blocked? There were leadership books to read or new ideas to glean from the constant churn of young assistants working under him. When the Rams appointed him the youngest head coach in NFL history in 2017, McVay's leadership and communication abilities — not to mention his understanding of the game's strategic evolution — led the organization to build its entire football operation around the then-30-year-old. It paid off. The Rams won a lot, and quickly. Empowered by the organization and motivated to win a championship, McVay could discard anyone who couldn't match his pace. Those moves were for the greater good, he reasoned; everything he did was to win a Super Bowl. At times, McVay's rush to contend conflicted with his humanity. Throughout the 2020 season, rising tension between McVay and quarterback Jared Goff led to a total break in communication. McVay then urged the Rams front office to trade away Goff in the deal for veteran Matthew Stafford in early 2021. McVay has since expressed his regret over how he handled the personal elements of that trade. Back then, losing relationships wasn't a real consequence to him – losing football games was. Advertisement 'When I look back on especially the first five years of my tenure here, there was a lot of selfishness, where I knew how to say the right things but I didn't feel it,' he said. Conversely, McVay said he badly wanted to win for his team captains and his coordinators during the Rams' Super Bowl run following the 2021 season, which led to a kind of 'purity.' But after he hoisted the Lombardi Trophy, that feeling quickly left him. 'After you win, it becomes more about you than you'd ever like to admit,' he said. 'That's when you're like, 'man, this is it, huh?'' The team imploded during the 2022 season. Burnout following the championship run made it all worse. McVay was outwardly frustrated and privately angry when assistants relied on him for answers, even though he was the one who created an order of operations that flowed wholly through him. He saw his struggling, tired team as a reflection of himself, so he withdrew. He said all the right things in team meetings but closed his office door afterward. He even gave up play calling for a short time. He considered giving up coaching altogether, which he acknowledged in a news conference with local reporters on a rainy, gray afternoon as the Rams' 2022 season ended. Petersen saw footage of McVay's comments and got his number from Kellen Moore, Petersen's former quarterback at Boise State and the current head coach of the New Orleans Saints. Petersen assumed he wouldn't hear back from McVay and said as much in his voicemail, adding that if he could help, he would. 'I was in my office at home,' McVay said. 'I've been a fan of his, and he was like, 'You probably don't know who I am,' which shows you his humility. I'm like, 'Yeah right.' I've been watching him for a long time, I knew exactly who he was.' Their first conversation lasted two hours. Advertisement After McVay's initial crash, he had worried about oversharing with family or friends. His problems were unique and privileged. At times, he felt guilty for even categorizing them as problems. But he was surprised at how easily he could unload to Petersen. The two men had common ground. They were from the same world. They both were deeply unhappy at the top of their respective careers and in relentless pursuit of what they believed was greatness. 'As a result of that chase, there were some good times, but there were a lot of times that I became somebody that I don't like,' said McVay, 'I think he would probably say the same thing.' Typical of football coaches, Petersen and McVay quickly fell into a routine of regular correspondence as the 2023 season began. McVay and his wife, Veronika, became parents that October. Petersen, who has two sons, often pressed McVay with questions or challenges that led to thoughtful conversations about how he was managing his time at home. Setting an example of perseverance for his son, Jordan, was a big factor in McVay's decision to stay in coaching, but could he be more present with his family, even in the middle of a season? Injuries and compounding losses made a 1-4 start to the 2024 season feel eerily similar to 2022. McVay admitted he still got just as angry and at times felt just as out of control. But this time, he kept his office door open. He held frequent one-on-one meetings with players and staff to reinforce their good habits and correct their bad ones. He took feedback from assistants, even his younger players. He delegated instead of taking every problem on himself. Daily, McVay repeated three things Petersen once said to him: Stay present. Stay grateful. Keep doing hard things. His team started to show a new kind of resilience that inspired him. Petersen believes it was also a reflection of McVay's internal progress. The Rams won nine of their next 12 games and became NFC West champions. In January, despite mass evacuations and a relocated wild-card game due to wildfires across Los Angeles, McVay's team stuck together, trouncing the Minnesota Vikings 27-9. In the swirling snow of the divisional round in Philadelphia, the Rams came just two plays short of beating the eventual Super Bowl-champion Eagles. As he stood in front of his players in the visitors' locker room moments after the loss, McVay said he was staggered at the hurt that flooded through him — not for himself, he realized, but for them. It was, he said, the first season he felt like an actual head coach. Advertisement 'I did not like being 1-4. But you know what I know about people? They can handle it,' McVay said. 'I know our coaching staff can handle it. … A few years ago, we wouldn't have been able to do the things we were able to do in terms of my role and responsibility as a leader. That's the truth. There's no f—ing way. I would have melted.' Lake joined the Rams as assistant head coach in 2023 following a short tenure at Washington. After spending the 2024 season as the defensive coordinator of the Atlanta Falcons, Lake returned to L.A. to work for McVay. He can see Petersen's influence. 'He's also extremely into pouring into people and getting the best out of them, and genuinely, authentically wants people to succeed around him,' Lake said. 'That is very much like Chris Petersen.' McVay still calls himself a 'basket case,' but usually he says it with a laugh. He is still driven by competition and even perfectionism, still feels the same anger and misery he always has when he loses or comes across a problem he can't immediately solve. 'I still am who I am,' he said, 'But these are skills you develop. … You're building skills and you're building opportunities to be resilient by acknowledging whatever those shortcomings are.' Influenced in part by Petersen, McVay said he will change the messaging and signage around the Rams' practice facilities this offseason. For years, his slogan and the starting point for his team culture has been 'We not me.' Now, it will say 'We then me.' The initial idea was to prioritize team over self. But, as McVay learned firsthand, when subjected to unique stress without constant maintenance, the self can decay — and maybe even destroy the collective. Now a college football analyst for Fox, Petersen quietly helps several coaches throughout all levels of the sport (and even people in other professions) in addition to McVay. In his ongoing conversations with 'Coach Pete', McVay practices reframing his worldview from quantifying every experience as a win or a loss, like he would on a football field, to something much more open-ended. Advertisement He reminds himself that there is no conclusion to the process of getting better, no score to keep. Petersen calls it 'becoming.' For McVay, it is an idea both radical and necessary. '(Petersen) always tells me that if he had one sign in his office if he ever got back into coaching, it would say, 'Who am I becoming as a result of this chase?'' McVay said. 'I think about that all the time.' (Illustration: Will Tullos / The Athletic; photos: Katelyn Mulcahy, Chris Butler / Getty Images)
New York Times
27 minutes ago
- New York Times
Pride progress? As gay pro athletes consider coming out, each announcement makes a mark
It was never Jason Collins' intention to be a spokesperson or the leader of a cause. He just wanted to live a life that was open and honest, a life untangled from the usual excuses and dodges that are in the playbook when you're in the closet. But when you emerge as the first active, openly gay player in NBA history, as Collins did in 2013, you can't not be a spokesperson. One of the constants in the evolution of the openly gay athlete in the major North American men's professional sports leagues — the NBA, NFL, MLB, NHL and MLS — is that everyone who comes out is providing a for-free blueprint for those who dare to be next. Advertisement It's different in women's professional sports, where there's a well-chronicled history of out players and generally high support from the leagues and their fans. In the men's leagues, progress has been slow and tentative. So, yes, Collins shares his experiences. His words are important. His story is important. But the timing for this interview wasn't good. Collins and longtime boyfriend Brunson Green were to be married in two weeks — Memorial Day weekend — and there was still so much to do. Is the tent all set? The food? The DJ? 'And all that other stuff that goes into having a fun and enjoyable weekend,' Collins said, speaking from Austin, Texas, over the phone. 'I would have called earlier, but I was going over the wedding playlist.' And then, just like that, something happened that revealed a subtle difference between being closeted and being comfortably out. With the conversation shifted to the wedding, Collins was asked if his old college roommate from Stanford, Joe Kennedy, a former congressman from Massachusetts, would be in attendance. 'I think Joe's coming,' Collins said. He paused. And then, speaking not into the phone but apparently to somebody else, said, 'Brunce, are Joe and Lauren coming to the wedding?' 'Brunce' is Brunson Green, of course. Had Collins been doing a phone interview during his early years in the NBA — he broke in with the New Jersey Nets in 2001 — he might have thought twice before redirecting a question to a buddy, as in a male friend, who happened to be in the room. And even if he had, it's doubtful he would have dropped in a chummy nickname. The guardrails would have been up, as they are for many in the closet. Always trying to be one step ahead of the posse, always covering up tracks. Now it is 2025, some 12 years after Collins, who was technically a free agent, came out via an essay he wrote for Sports Illustrated. (He reemerged in the NBA months later with the Brooklyn Nets, with whom he closed out his career.) The former NBA big man, 46, is now married to a current Hollywood big shot, the 57-year-old Green. Among his other accomplishments, Green produced the 2011 film 'The Help,' which earned an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture. Advertisement Yep, they're hitched. The tent, the food, the DJ, all made it to the wedding. As did Joe and Lauren Kennedy. Again, Collins didn't get married for the headlines. He married Green because he loves the guy. But as Kennedy noted in a phone interview, 'If you read the Sports Illustrated piece — I have a copy signed by Jason hanging in my house — he said he wasn't (coming out) to make a statement, but that he was willing to raise his hand and say, 'I'm here.'' In the ongoing story of the out athlete, it's the 'I'm here' that contributes to the blueprint for other past, present and even future pros mulling a big announcement. While the roll call of players who've come out over the last two decades isn't extensive, each announcement makes a mark. It's not just other athletes who are paying attention. Ryan O'Callaghan, who is among several former NFL players to come out in recent years, cites an email he received from a man who had struggled with his son's coming-out news. 'He had disowned his son,' said O'Callaghan, 41, a former offensive tackle who came out in 2017, seven years after playing parts of four seasons with the New England Patriots and Kansas City Chiefs. 'In his email, he said my story made him reconsider the position he had taken, and to reconnect with his son.' Coming-out stories can also inspire a gay athlete's teammates to rise to the occasion, as American soccer player Robbie Rogers points out. Rogers was effectively retired when he delivered his news in early 2013 while living in the United Kingdom, but he then returned to the United States to play for the Los Angeles Galaxy of MLS. He knew he had been accepted by his Galaxy teammates the day he walked into the locker room and saw a message posted on the bulletin board by veteran captain Landon Donovan. Team dinner this weekend. Don't bring your husbands, wives, boyfriends or girlfriends. Advertisement With that one message, Donovan was treating Rogers like one of the guys. No speeches, no attaboys. Just a bro-ey invite for a players-only dinner. 'It's not like Landon was part of some DEI committee who was told what to say,' Rogers said. 'He just naturally wrote that. I was, like, oh, the world really changes.' The way Rogers saw it, 'Landon was just being Landon. It was something I never thought I'd see in the locker room. I've not shared this too much, but it was a really cool moment.' Rogers, 38, has been married since 2017 to producer Greg Berlanti. They have two children: Caleb, 9, and Mia, 6. Rogers and Berlanti are also in business together, with Berlanti serving as executive producer and Rogers as producer of the television series 'All American,' which is entering its eighth season. Rogers was executive producer of the gay-themed miniseries 'Fellow Travelers,' which won a Peabody Award and garnered Golden Globe and Emmy nominations, and he is a producer of the documentary 'The Last Guest of the Holloway Motel,' which premieres at the Tribeca Film Festival on Sunday. To whatever extent Rogers has gone Hollywood, he understands the impact of his decision to come out. He listens. He speaks. He offers advice. 'I would say find someone that can just listen to you talk,' Rogers said. 'Someone who can help get your thoughts together and get whatever you're dealing with out of your head. It can be such a lonely experience if you can't put words to what you're feeling.' Collins said he took note of Rogers' coming-out news as he was preparing to step out of his own closet. 'At the time that I did it, Robbie was out,' Collins said. 'So I was thinking that you could look at his example, look at my example, that it was possible to do it. (I was) hoping that there would be more players continuing to lead the way regarding this conversation.' Advertisement But, Collins said, 'I don't know if disappointed would be the word. I would always try to spin things in the way of there's work to be done.' Ex-professional athletes have been coming out for decades. Dave Kopay, a running back who played in the NFL from 1964 to 1972, came out in 1975. The late Billy Bean, an outfielder with the Detroit Tigers, Los Angeles Dodgers and San Diego Padres from 1987 to 1995, came out in 2003. John Amaechi, who broke into the NBA during the 1995-96 season with the Cleveland Cavaliers and later played for the Orlando Magic and Utah Jazz, came out in 2007. The list goes on and on, including these history-making announcements: • In 2021, Carl Nassib became the first active NFL player to come out. The 6-foot-7, 275-pound defensive end played for the Las Vegas Raiders and Tampa Bay Buccaneers before retiring. • In 2014, University of Missouri defensive end Michael Sam came out in advance of the NFL Draft and was selected in the seventh round by the St. Louis Rams. Though Sam never played a regular-season game in the NFL — he appeared in preseason games and served practice-squad stints with the Rams and Dallas Cowboys — his coming-out announcement remains a watershed moment in the LGBTQ+ community. • Luke Prokop is the first openly gay hockey player to be under contract to an NHL team, with his announcement taking place about a year after being selected by the Nashville Predators with the 73rd pick in the 2020 draft. Prokop has yet to appear in the NHL. He played for the AHL Milwaukee Admirals this past season. Professional athletes come out in many different ways. In 2012, some five years before O'Callaghan came out publicly, and after spending all of 2011 on the injured reserve list with the Chiefs, he had a private conversation with then-Chiefs general manager Scott Pioli, who over the years has emerged as a five-star ally of the LGBTQ+ community. Advertisement 'Ryan came into my office, he seemed really upset, really anxious,' Pioli said. 'He said, 'I have something to tell you.' And he couldn't get the words out, so now I'm getting nervous, like maybe he's done something really bad.' O'Callaghan finally said, 'I'm gay.' Pioli remembers his response as being, 'OK, what else?' Years later, O'Callaghan said he expected Pioli to be upset or disappointed. Looking back on it, Pioli said the only thing that upset him was the way the meeting ended. 'We got up, I'm sitting behind my desk, he's sitting in front of my desk, he was emotional, I was emotional,' Pioli said. 'When he went to leave, I was walking in to hug him and he put out his hand to shake my hand. It was always handshake and a hug, but now he was giving me the distance of a handshake. And I gotta tell you, that broke my heart. I said, 'What are you doing? We hug.'' They hugged. They did, after all, have a long history together: Pioli was vice president of player personnel for the Patriots when O'Callaghan broke into the NFL with New England, and they were later reunited in Kansas City. O'Callaghan's public coming out took place in 2017 via a story for written by Cyd Zeigler. The two later collaborated on a book, 'My Life on the Line: How the NFL Damn Near Killed Me and Ended Up Saving My Life,' which also deals with O'Callaghan's battle to cleanse himself from reliance on prescription painkillers. 'I was surprised how big a story it was at the time,' O'Callaghan said of his coming-out news. 'I was on Dan Patrick and all these other shows. Thankfully, Cyd acted as a stand-in publicist.' For Rogers, it was a heartfelt post on his website. 'And then I turned my phone and computer off,' Rogers said. 'A few hours later, I was with some friends and they said, 'You should look at that thing you posted.'' Advertisement Rogers looked. People were reaching out. Lots of them. 'And reporters were calling me and my agent,' Rogers said. 'I was in London. Back home in California, my mom said a reporter came to the house.' Collins wrote the essay for Sports Illustrated, which was posted on April 29, 2013. It was the cover story for the magazine's May 6 print edition. 'We knew it was going to be online at 11 a.m. Eastern time,' Collins said. 'I was living in Los Angeles at the time. There were people I felt should hear it from me first, so that weekend, there were a lot of phone calls that were being made.' About an hour before the story appeared, Collins was on the phone with then-NBA commissioner David Stern and then-deputy commissioner Adam Silver. 'They were extremely supportive,' Collins said. 'I couldn't have done what I did without seeing what the leadership of the NBA was doing. When I first entered the NBA in 2001, players were allowed to use homophobic language without consequences. That changed in the mid-to-late 2000s. There started to be fines for using homophobic language. When I saw those fines being levied, especially with a minimum fine of $50,000 being implemented, that to me was a sign that NBA leadership has my back.' The homophobic remarks continue here and there, in all sports. One might go so far as to say snarky, inappropriate language has made a comeback in today's politically charged world, and not just in relation to coming-out announcements and the transgender community. Now that legalized gambling is part of the sports experience, the crowing is getting louder and nastier — from the stands and on social media. Looking back on his coming-out experience, Rogers said, 'I heard people say, 'Why do you have to tell everyone,' and 'Why can't you just live your life,' or 'You don't belong in sports.' But those aren't downsides. That's just the way the world works.' So, why did Rogers have to tell everyone? 'I kind of felt I was doing something a bit more selfish,' he said. 'It sounds cliché, but I was setting myself free.' (Illustration: Kelsea Petersen / The Athletic; Jeff Gross / Getty, Fernando Medina / Getty, Georgoe Gojkovich / Getty)
