Timing is everything, a sentiment that has equal validity on and off a rugby pitch. Nick McCarthy chose his moment carefully to declare his sexuality and in doing so took a hugely courageous step on a personal level. His altruism will inspire and reassure others, particularly among the young.
There is no doubt that he would have been apprehensive about making his status common knowledge despite the support of family, friends, and team-mates but the general reaction has endorsed his decision.
Becoming the first openly gay male professional rugby player in Ireland was always going to commandeer the headlines because it directly challenged a taboo in male sport. McCarthy is a pioneer and has taken the first step, and those that undergo a similar journey in the future will owe him a debt of gratitude.
As somebody who struggled to fit in at various points in my life, I can empathise with Nick in that, if you are not being yourself who are you being? The answer to this question invariably causes a great deal of soul searching and often anxiety for those who worry about how people around them will respond.
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It has taken me a long time to be comfortable with who I am and accept that people will like and dislike me for a variety of reasons. The only thing that I can truly control are the decisions I make, how they may affect others, and if they are made for the right reasons.
In some respects, it mimics my time as a rugby player. After matches I wanted to be able to look myself in the mirror and know I played to the best of my ability. You turn one face to the public but privately you must deal with how you perceive yourself as a person. Experience, good and bad, is a great tutor when it comes to life on and off the pitch. I have yet to meet a person who is completely unaffected by what others think of them.
I had a fundamental need to be liked, a burden I carried for most of life and a stress that only ever existed in my head. It distracted from what I was trying to accomplish
From personal experience in a professional sporting environment, you might be surprised at some of the alpha males who were racked by insecurity. The people I know today who are the most content are so because they are honest and have accepted who they are.
I played rugby from roughly 11 years of age and as a professional for almost 20 years. When inside the white lines I knew exactly who I was and of what I was capable. People’s opinions of me or what I was doing did not matter. The person I was on the pitch was a separate entity. I took refuge in my ability.
I struggled outside the white lines, a little bit left of centre in outlook, and once I left school and entered the professional sporting realms it was not always a comfortable experience. I had a fundamental need to be liked, a burden I carried for most of life and a stress that only ever existed in my head. It distracted from what I was trying to accomplish.
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When I started in boarding school, I had a powerful need to be at the centre of whatever was happening. I craved attention and reckoned any was good.
My first encounter with a good friend of mine to this day, Darragh Kelly, was when I followed him around standing on the back of his shoes because he laughed the first time I did it. We were 12, and I lapped up any invitation to be part of something.
The messing was generally harmless, but occasionally culminated in a trip to the headmaster’s office. The trade-off was it allowed me to find my feet, to be accepted, and I grew up alongside the ‘brothers and family,’ that I still cherish today.
I joined Leinster when rugby was in the process of moving from amateur to professional. There was a hierarchical system based on age, experience, and prominence within the playing group. Big personalities ruled the roost unchallenged and there would have been a certain amount of hazing of the younger players.
I did not thrive in this environment and was overwhelmed with no idea how to cope. Rather than talk to somebody when confronted by difficulties in settling in, I reverted to my schoolboy inclinations in seeking any sort of attention, desperate to be liked. In doing so it allowed others to place a value on me, on and off the pitch.
An expression I came across down through the years is a ‘mind movie’, which basically is a slant or spin you give thoughts in your head. This was never helpful to me in those early years, as the culture in Leinster was not supportive of young rugby players that needed guidance off the pitch.
Once you were doing well on the field, everything else was presumed to be ‘A okay.’ It was not until Matt Williams suggested that he might not offer me a new contract that I sought clarity.
A quick chat with some players I trusted helped me realise that in trying to be liked and joining in every bit of craic and high jinks, it had made me an unreliable person, somebody that my team-mates did not trust. It was devastating to hear. The manifestation of my insecurity threatened to derail my career.
Talent gets you the introduction to professional sport, but it does not suffice without hard work and sacrifice towards the collective. I am competitive but not naturally a person who does well in the super alpha environments.
The Irish team environment was equally forbidding at the time; you had to play more than just the game to be successful. My exit from the 2003 Rugby World Cup training squad was a reminder of that and that cliques existed within the group.
I felt like a square peg in a round hole off the field, and whether I was or not, I always felt on the outside of most close-knit cabals. The parts of being a professional rugby player that I did not enjoy were easily avoidable if a little lonely at times.
Any discomfort I had pales in comparison to the weight Nick must have shouldered and I am in awe at his courage to break that glass ceiling for rugby forever. I am not comparing my circumstances to his in any shape or form other than to say how draining it can be not to be yourself. It takes time and a lot of energy to build the facade.
Culture was not really spoken about in my rugby lifetime, and it wasn’t really until Joe Schmidt arrived that a significant change or overhaul started within Leinster.
I can only look at the environment I left in 2015 and when I compare it to 1998, it is a world apart. I do believe it is one of the main reasons that Nick McCarthy and Jack Dunne — his honesty and willingness to share his story speaks volumes about him as a person — have been comfortable enough to speak openly.
Being a good player does not make you a good person and let’s face it all the trophies and medals won’t camouflage a shortcoming in character when people are permitted to peek behind the veneer of the person who is no longer identified in sporting terms.
No matter what else Nick McCarthy does from this day forward he will be true to himself, and if in some small way sport facilitated that journey, allowing him to feel comfortable enough to reveal his news, then Leinster rugby’s culture is doing something right. It’s progress, in every respect.
