In 2025, the world of football prides itself on being fast-paced, global, and modern. Yet, when it comes to one fundamental aspect of human identity—sexuality—the sport still struggles to play catch-up.
Former German footballer Marcus Urban, 54, knows this all too well. In 2007, long after hanging up his boots, he became the first male player in Germany to publicly come out as gay. His announcement broke ground—but also raised the question: why is the game still hiding so many truths?
Urban’s latest revelations ahead of the August 18 release of Mensch Fubballstar (Human Football Star) by Swiss broadcaster Andreas Boni have once again ignited the debate.
In excerpts published by German outlet BILD, Urban claims that there are still gay footballers in Europe’s elite leagues who go to extraordinary lengths to hide their sexuality.
“It used to be said that the media and fans were to blame for no one coming out,” Urban said. “I think today it’s just the fears of the players and the people around them, at least where we are, in the heart of Europe. I think almost all the media would support it. I also honestly believe that the fans are no longer the problem. The clubs hardly are either. It’s more about the internal climate these days.”
But perhaps most striking is his claim that there is a hidden industry dedicated to maintaining these secrets.
“Fake girlfriends are organized, fake marriages are arranged. At the same time, there are agencies that organize sex encounters. They also make good money from this. But the players’ agents also sometimes organize this for their clients and then have the players in their hands. There are also gay couples in the Bundesliga, and they’re very nice and very pretty. And maybe the day will come when they come out.”
It’s a statement that paints a picture of a sport where fear still outweighs authenticity, and where image is carefully managed—even fabricated—behind closed doors.
Urban, who co-founded Diversero, a global diversity community, has long encouraged players to speak openly about their sexuality. Last year, there was even a plan for a mass “coming out” by several professionals in Germany.
It was set for May 17, 2024—symbolically aligned with the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia. But when the day came, no one stepped forward.
“The players are repeatedly thwarted in their desire for freedom,” Urban explained. “There were some who wanted to come out. For example, we planned a day of coming out on May 17, 2024. In the end, no one dared. There are still too many people around them who advised them against it. Media lawyers, advisors, family – people who are basking in their money and fame and projecting their misguided pseudo-care and their own fears onto the players.”
This culture of silence is not new. In 1990, Justin Fashanu became the first—and only—male professional footballer in England to come out while still playing. His honesty was met with hostility from the media, teammates, and even his own family. He died by suicide in 1998, aged just 37—a tragedy that still casts a shadow over the sport’s handling of sexuality.
For more than three decades after Fashanu’s announcement, no active British male professional came out—until Jake Daniels, then 17, broke that silence in 2021. The Blackpool striker’s courage was celebrated, but his case remains an exception rather than a trend.
Globally, only a handful of male players have come out while active—Josh Cavallo in Australia’s A-League being one of them. In contrast, women’s football boasts dozens of openly gay athletes, with stars like Megan Rapinoe and Pernille Harder redefining visibility in sport.
The lingering taboo seems to be a toxic mix of tradition, masculinity stereotypes, and fear of the unknown. While Urban believes fans and media are now largely supportive, the “internal climate” of men’s football—its locker rooms, sponsorship deals, and agent-player power dynamics—remains a formidable barrier.
For players in the spotlight, the stakes are enormous. A single public declaration could alter their career trajectory, disrupt endorsement deals, or even redefine their public identity overnight. And so, many choose silence—sometimes aided by carefully constructed “public images” involving female partners, staged relationships, or marriages that are more strategic than romantic.
Urban’s comments highlight a cruel irony: in a sport that thrives on passion, courage, and authenticity on the pitch, many players are still denied those same values in their personal lives.
The difference now is that support systems are more visible. Fans are more accepting. Media coverage has evolved. And yet, as Urban puts it, “the players’ fears” remain the strongest force keeping the truth in the shadows.
For now, football’s most powerful statement on LGBTQ+ inclusivity is not in a rainbow armband or a diversity campaign—it will be in the day when an elite player feels safe enough to say, simply, “This is who I am,” without the game flinching.
