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A member of the audience, when asked to contribute, states that he doesn’t dislike Justin because of the colour of his skin instead, he says, “It’s his vile homosexual lifestyle that I detest.” Justin responds calmly enough (although he still appears somewhat rattled), remarking – in what is perhaps a telling slip of the tongue – that “You don’t know about my vile homophobic lifestyle.” It is striking that the audience member chose to pat himself on the back for not being racist, which also says something about the level of racism that was present at the time.
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Forbidden Games, a 2017 Netflix documentary about his life, features a scene in which he was being interviewed on Trial By Night, a programme on regional Scottish television. By several accounts, it made Justin acquire a mask for his emotions that he would not truly remove throughout his entire life.Įvery now and then, though, Justin’s face betrayed itself. Justin became a figure who John looked to for physical and emotional protection, and the cost of being that shield was severe. There were very few Black people in the whole of Norfolk at the time, and the brothers were subjected to a significant degree of racial discrimination. The brothers were then raised in Shropham in Norfolk by Alf and Betty Jackson, their white foster parents. Following their parents’ separation, they were placed in care by their mother since she did not have the financial means to bring them up. He and his younger brother John, who was nineteen months his junior, were born in London.
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“Every professional footballer,” he told me, “should hold their head in shame.”īy now, the facts of Fashanu’s early life are fairly well known, at least in outline. When I spoke with Ambrose Mendy, the sports agent who represented the ill-fated footballer for several years, he was unequivocal on this matter. Too little thought is given to the choices that individuals made, or did not make, to help Fashanu when he needed them most.
When a life implodes, as Fashanu’s did, too little thought is given to the astonishing invisible pressures that are constantly exerted upon it. It is grim to think that the name of the first Black footballer to command a transfer fee of £1 million, a sum paid in 1981 by Nottingham Forest to take him from Norwich City, is mostly remembered as a cautionary tale – a warning that sport is no place for gay male players. Instead of accelerating into the distance, untouched and undefeated, he found himself torn to the ground by overwhelming forces. Yet Fashanu was painfully and utterly subject to the laws of footballing gravity. Like ‘Oumuamua, he bewitched every expert who observed him, soaring into the uppermost reaches of the English game with a spectacular strike against one of the finest teams in Europe. Like ‘Oumuamua, Fashanu was gone from each new place just as quickly as he had arrived there: in his nineteen years as a footballer, he played for twenty-two clubs, an existence not so much nomadic as frantic. For, just like that ageless voyager, Fashanu was elusive, fast-moving and ultimately unknowable. Sometimes, when I think of Justin Fashanu – the first openly gay footballer to play in the men’s professional game, and still the only Black one – I think of ‘Oumuamua. Never before had an inter-stellar visitor passed through our region of space, and so, when astronomers came to name this mysterious immigrant, they called it ‘Oumuamua, which roughly translates from Hawaiian as “a messenger from afar arriving first”.
The object, travelling too fast to be trapped by the gravitational pull of any star system, tore through our Solar System and then surged back out into the open ocean of the universe. In 2017, much to the excitement of scientists, an unknown object emerged from the depths of the cosmos and cut a majestic arc across the night sky.