For a mere six months, Kaue Garcia and Ryan O’Neill managed a sports team, when they came to the conclusion that it was due for some radical changes. The duo felt a sense of necessity for an unusual addition – a drag queen, though they were uncertain of the potential response. Their recently acquired English club, the Keighley Cougars, may not have appeared as the ideal platform for such progressive ventures.
Positioned amidst Yorkshire’s Brontë country’s wind-battered moors, Keighley is a historical textile town with evident remnants of postindustrial ruination, featuring jaw-dropping landscapes enveloping some of England’s most impoverished areas. In this gritty surroundings, the Cougars participate in Rugby League, an exceptionally harsh variant of a notoriously rigorous sport, predominantly prevalent in disparate locales and traditionally populated by a rugged community in the north of England and northeast Australia.
However, a stroke of boldness led Garcia and O’Neill to envision a Pride-themed event at Keighley’s stadium with a drag queen providing pre-match entertainment. Their fears initially revolved around the possibility of a low turnout, with O’Neill’s husband, Garcia, worrying that they might face a more painful rejection. They feared orchestration of a grand festivity with a drag queen in the centre of the field could result in a mass exodus.
Nevertheless, signs of optimism existed. Upon procurement of the team at the commencement of 2019, they had acquired the status, to their estimation, of being the sole gay proprietors of a men’s sports team outside the US. Their sexual orientation had not sparked any notable objection. On the contrary, the township appeared thankful for their involvement. It was not their sexuality, but their rescue of Keighley’s cherished team from approaching financial devastation that mattered more to the town. By the current year, they had amassed substantial goodwill among the populace.
Rugby League has demonstrated greater inclusivity compared to other sports such as men’s football, with several openly gay players and referees. It became clear to one couple, however, that tolerance and complete acceptance weren’t necessarily one and the same.
They understood walking a tightrope by introducing a drag queen, but were committed to their decision regardless. Their love and passion for the Cougars’ home ground, fancier in name than its true form, stood firm. The stadium, affectionately known as Cougar Park, may be cloaked by aged, dented grandstands and surrounded by raw concrete terraces, yet it is an explosion of colour since they took charge.
Having witnessed several games this year in various weather conditions from light spring showers to summer drizzles and fierce autumn rains, I’ve been notably accompanied by my six-year-old son who, powered by a fear of missing out (FOMO) and a chance to spend quality time with his parents, has developed his own perspective of Cougar Park. Despite its ageing façade located not far from our local recycling centre, he perceives it as vibrant and engaging, particularly appreciating its candy stall and the bright Cougars’ flag. He also admires the striking rainbow colours enveloping the stadium.
It’s undeniable that the evident alteration of Garcia and O’Neill is behind the transformation of Cougar Park. The hues of the Pride and the Progress flags adorn every possible corner, from towering flagpoles to barriers controlling the crowd. These colours have even found their way onto the field, as traditional jerseys got replaced with ones carrying Pride colours. Furthermore, the forthcoming season will see jerseys embodying the colours emblematic of trans rights, reinforcing Garcia’s powerful statement: “Everyone is welcome here.”
Without intending to commandeer a sports team in order to communicate a social statement, the couple found themselves at the helm of one almost serendipitously. News had spread that the Cougars, a team beleaguered by mismanagement, would soon cease to exist. O’Neill, having grown up in the vicinity and being a devout fan from childhood through his father’s investment in the team, had an understanding of the team’s significance to the town. Despite his husband, a native of Brazil unfamiliar with both Rugby League and Keighley, they agreed to intervene to save the team.
However, they never imagined becoming the proprietors of the team was part of the deal. They just hoped to rescue the team, return to London, and resume their day to day lives, believing the team’s management was within someone’s purview.
Any notions they held of a hands-off approach swiftly fell apart the day they inherited Cougar Park. A team member presented them with an outstanding £25,000 bill for the team’s kit, the first in a series of debts to be settled. When they asked who was responsible, the answer pointed directly back to them.
Choosing to confront the challenge, they ended up staying in a local hotel. “Envisage your partner informing you of a three-month hotel stay,” Garcia narrated. “You’d envisage luxury, not realizing the hotel is a Travelodge. And here we are, tidying up daily. I ought to have perused the fine print. Lesson learned.”
O’Neill realized that the town, which he remembered from his youth as not being the most accepting, was often stereotyped by politicians and agitators as neglected by the distant, derisive elite. It was characterized as a stronghold of traditional values, which were often a euphemism for right-wing tendencies.
Despite the possibility of his memory attempting to minimise his sexuality, he has by choice always been an active advocate. Although not initially intending to be at the helm of the club, he found himself stepping into the role and committed to doing it in his own unique way. As he stated, “Sport provides an immensely influential platform for spreading messages.” Subsequently, rainbow flags started to adorn the place, the team’s jersey underwent a makeover, and plans began to come together for what seemed to be the inaugural designated Pride match in British sports. It was going to feature a drag queen.
The brainchild of O’Neill and Garcia, a plan involving the drag queen and bringing Katie Price to Cougar Park, was designed to allay any tender male egos. However, when Price couldn’t fulfil her commitment due to health issues, they decided to progress with their initial plan. Reflecting on the Pride match day, they deemed it a roaring success, with sales of jerseys exceeding expectations, a stadium bustling with a larger-than-usual crowd, and the captivating performance of Miss Ivy Rose singing “Lola” and “It’s Raining Men” being thoroughly enjoyed by the majority of spectators.
A notable moment happened when they noticed a fan, who Garcia suggested was older and possibly tattooed, marching towards them. This fan, who had similarities in size to some team players, surprised them with his reaction. Garcia reflects, “He approached us, this large man, and shook our hands, confessing that he’d never met any gay people before. His perception of ‘gay’ was skewed, but he was absolutely taken by everything.”
The Keighley that the duo, Garcia and O’Neill, has discovered contradicts popular opinions and even differs from what O’Neill remembers from his childhood. They have been pleasantly surprised that whenever they have feared they might be moving too fast, they’ve found both the club and its town keeping pace with them.
Flags now merely blend into the landscape as part of the skyline. Supporters clad in replica jerseys adorned with the Pride flag casually sit, sipping lager poured into plastic pint cups. Some of them perch on a terrace freshly painted with vibrant rainbow colours. The arena, initially seen as unfriendly by some town folks, now teems with long-time fans who have been joined by newer contingents.
“The LGBTQ community previously had no place in Keighley,” expressed Garcia. His conviction was that this platform offered an environment of cordiality and could be the friend-making hub for this marginalised group. Garcia emphasised the inclusivity of the club and its central role within the community. He took pride in mentioning that a home game boiled down to the most enjoyable day out in the entire town of Keighley.
Their contribution has been merely to make more people from their community feel welcomed and accepted. “All we did was introduce a spectrum of colours,” Garcia stated.
Like any other sports managers, Garcia and O’Neill have faced their fair share of criticism tied to management choices. However, they have also had to contend with personal, more targeted affronts such as homophobic comments online.
Yet, five years down the line, they find themselves pleasantly surprised that such episodes are outliers rather than the norm. Their conviction strengthened to the extent that they recently extended an invitation to famed trans activist, India Willoughby, to stand as the patron of the club.
The invitation was presented while they were all gathered in the hospitality suite of Cougar Park, dining on a roast beef meal whipped up under the surveillance of O’Neill’s mother, Jacqui. Although usually composed, O’Neill felt tangibly nervous that day. Aware of the backlash Willoughby regularly faces on social media due to her stance on trans rights, O’Neill voiced his support by sporting a T-shirt bearing the slogan, “Trans Rights Are Human Rights.” His voice faltered slightly as he invited her to deliver the speech.
As she concluded her remarks, a overwhelming surge of clapping greeted her, leaving O’Neill somewhat taken aback. He said, “In Keighley, it’s substantial to witness such recognition given to a trans woman.” This narrative was first published in The New York Times.