Early Monday morning, 14-year-old Jamey Rodemeyer of Williamsville was found dead in his front yard. He committed suicide after being constantly bullied because he was struggling with his sexuality.
The typical "athletes bully outcasts" stereotype has existed seemingly forever thanks to Hollywood. I played varsity basketball all four years of high school, and thus, I hung out with the athletes throughout high school.
When I was Jamey's age, I was unquestionably the joke of the team. I was the shortest kid on the squad and I had a baby face. The team called me "cuddle bear" and I was clearly the "little kid" on the team. Still, my teammates protected me like I was their little brother. They would go after anyone who messed with me.
I didn't have to worry about anything because I had my teammates.
The same can't be said for "the outcasts" – the kids who don't fit in with the "normal" crowd because someone has deemed that they're "different" in some aspect. Anyone who's considered too fat, skinny, gay, awkward, or ugly – anything that stands out from the norm.
Naturally, the athletes picked on the kids who didn't really fit in. As the baby of the team, I wasn't going to stand up and tell the veterans to leave someone alone. But as time went on, I became one of the leaders of the team. I was a captain my senior year. Still, I sat back and didn't say anything.
My high school really tried to stop us.
Our star center was suspended from school for picking on a kid who was socially awkward. Our power forward was suspended for sexually harassing a girl in his class. Our defensive specialist was kicked out of school for getting in trouble with the law.
The school couldn't stop us. In our minds, we were a unit, we were the athletes, and we were untouchable. And unfortunately for the school, we were right.
We won our conference championship and the state championship. We were getting the school publicity. Television stations and newspapers learned about my school. We could do whatever we wanted.
So we carried on with our stunts and pranks and endless teasing. We even got in trouble for messing with our assistant coach. He was a fantastic coach and he had experience, but when he ran practice by himself, we literally formed a bully circle and pushed him around. Granted, we were joking. But that's all it ever was.
Jokes.
We didn't think we were really hurting anyone. I'm sure the kids who bullied Jamey didn't think they were seriously ruining his life.
Thankfully, my team never drove someone to the point of suicide, but the squad certainly wasn't a grouping of the most caring kids in the world. We had each other's backs – and that's it. Nobody else was off limits. If you didn't fit in, we might have messed with you.
So here it is, the point of this column. To people who are bullied everywhere:
I'm sorry.
On behalf of athletes everywhere, I'm sorry. I may never have taunted you, but I never stopped my friends. You deserve to be treated as well as anyone on any sports team anywhere.
We are no better than you and I never thought we were. No one apologized soon enough to save Jamey.
Just know that no matter who you are, no matter what you look like, no matter what choices you make, you are incredible; and no one has the right to tell you otherwise.
R.I.P. Jamey.
Paws up forever.
Email: aaron.mansfield@ubspectrum.com
Photo: Ryan Hagen | UB Athletics
Photo: Paul Hokanson / UB Athletics
