In England, Rogers became acutely aware of the impossibility of being a publicly-out gay footballer. He was an established international and his most recent caps had been won under Jürgen Klinsmann – whose first game in charge ended in a draw, against Mexico, after an equaliser from Rogers.
But he understood the bitter truth: "In football it's obviously impossible to come out – because no-one has done it. No one. It's crazy and sad. I thought: 'Why don't I step away and deal with this and my family and be happy?' Imagine going to training every day and being in that spotlight? It's been a bit of a circus anyway – but that would have been crazy. And you wouldn't have much control because clubs are pushing you in different directions.
"I was just fearful. I was very fearful how my team-mates were going to react. Was it going to change them? Even though I'd still be the same person would it change the way they acted towards me – when we were in the dressing room or the bus?"
In all professional sport, dressing room "banter", in that euphemistic phrase, can be callous. "Especially football," Rogers stresses. How did he react when homophobic quips were made – even though his team-mates were oblivious to his sexuality? "There were different emotions. Sometimes I would feel bad for them. Sometimes I would laugh because it was kinda funny. And, sometimes, it got malicious.
"That was when I would get this awful feeling in my stomach. I would turn my head and try to chat about other things. They often don't mean what they say. It's that pack mentality – they're trying to get a laugh, they're trying to be the top guy. But it's brutal. It's like high school again – on steroids."
Rogers speaks warmly of individual footballers. "They're amazing people, really. Professional footballers are very interesting and from all walks of life. They have great stories when you get them away from the banter and the pack. They can really open up. To become a professional footballer there is something special about you. You need this drive, this hunger."
Yet there is also something diseased at the heart of professional football – epitomised by its attitude towards homosexuality. "Football is an amazing sport," Rogers says. "But it is also a brutal sport that picks people up and slams them on their heads. Adding the gay aspect doesn't make a great cocktail."
What would have happened if Rogers had still been playing for Leeds when he came out? "That would have been interesting," he says wryly. "I don't think I would have been able to go training the next day. That would be so scary. The guys might have said, 'That's great, Robbie.' Maybe. But because no-one's done it and because of the things I've heard in the dressing room I just thought: 'I need to get away from this – make my announcement, find peace, go from there.' So I can never imagine announcing that at Leeds."
Could he have come out while playing for Columbus in the US? "No. Not at any club – anywhere."
And, back in this country, if he was playing for Leeds and they were away to Millwall today? "Woah!" Rogers exclaims. "I can't even think about that."
We end up laughing, helplessly, which shows how much football has to change. "Definitely. Maybe a lot of fans aren't homophobic. But, in a stadium, sometimes they want to destroy you. In the past I would have said: 'They don't know I'm gay so it doesn't mean anything.' But, now they know it, am I going to jump in the stands and fight them?"
It would be incredibly powerful if a gay footballer could face down that hate and abuse – just as black sportsmen like Jackie Robinson and Muhammad Ali stood up to racism in America.
"Sure," Rogers says. "I've thought about that. I might be strong enough but I don't know if that's really what I want. I'd just want to be a footballer. I wouldn't want to deal with the circus. Are people coming to see you because you're gay? Would I want to do interviews every day, where people are asking: 'So you're taking showers with guys – how's that?'
"If you're playing well it will be reported as: 'The gay footballer is playing well.' And if you have a bad game it'll be: 'Aw, that gay dude … he's struggling because he's gay.' **** it. I don't want to mess with that."
Yet the response to his coming out seems to have been overwhelmingly positive. "It's been very warm, very accepting. Guys I played with have sent messages saying, 'You know I was joking when I said that?' I say, 'Bro, don't worry about it. You were hilarious. Don't worry.'"
He becomes thoughtful when asked if he knows any gay footballers. "No. Even now, one of my best friends said: 'Do we know anyone else in football who could possibly be gay?' And we couldn't think of anyone. We're such great actors because we're afraid to let people know who we are. We've been trained by our agents how to do interviews, how to present ourselves. No footballer has since said to me, 'Robbie, thank you, I'm gay too…' I don't know if anyone will."
Many gay men, surely, are playing professional football? "Of course. Tons. I mean footballers dress really well [he laughs]."
Could he imagine a young gay footballer knocking on his manager's door to ask for advice? "It would be so tough. Would I have had the same opportunities when I was younger if I'd come out? I don't think so. There would have been that mentality: 'Oh he's gay … how will that affect the team?'"
The way in which Fashanu was treated has been a bleak warning to any gay footballer. He might have been a million pound player but Brian Clough, one of the greatest managers this country has produced, demeaned him at Nottingham Forest as "a bloody poof." Fashanu's tragic end should never be forgotten.
"I read a little about him," Rogers says. "It's such a sad story because my coming out was so positive. I wish everyone could have that same support. If people say bad things about you, you can give your parents a call. But hearing comments Justin's family made – oh my gosh."
As we consider the way in which Clough treated Fashanu at Forest, Rogers says: 'I've heard it recently from coaches. Obviously they're not homophobic but they'll say: 'Don't pass the ball like a fag.' That's when you look at them and think, '**** you. What are you talking about? Does it make a difference, if you're gay or straight, as to how you pass the ball? Are you on drugs?' I guess they say it because they think it's funny. There's the stereotype of a gay man being soft and flamboyant."
Rogers sounds like a necessary force for change. He shrugs. "About a month ago I would've thought: 'I don't want to be a spokesman for gay footballers.' I have so many different things I'm interested in. But after thousands of emails, I'm thinking, OK, how can I help others? How can I make some positive change? How am I going to reach young Robbie and tell him to be himself? He might not fit the gay or the football stereotype. That's one thing I definitely want to do – break some barriers and kill some stereotypes."
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