I have a confession to make. Over the vacation I was in Paris visiting gap-yah friends. We thought we’d pay our respects to the Parisian nightlife by going out on the last ‘student’ night of 2014. I met a guy. He was very French and even more beautiful. After a feeble attempt at dancing, we went out for a cigarette. I asked him what he did.

“Me? Oh, I am, err, playing football for the local team and studying logistics in Switzerland.”

I dropped my cigarette. That was it. Romance was dead – well, at least for me anyway. "He’s not gay," I told myself, "He can’t be". My assumption had nothing to do with the fact that he was studying logistics in Switzerland, but you know that already. It was because he played football.

To cut a long story short, it later transpired that he was in fact gay. I was guilty of the same crime that many of us are: associating sport with heterosexuality. In my quest for redemption, I argue that sport is as guilty as I am for this crime: it creates false perceptions about gender and sexuality. The interaction between gender and sexuality is vital to understanding homophobia in the sporting world: the construct of masculinity provides a bedrock on which homophobia is built.

You can’t be a feminine footballer. Not if you want to be a big shot anyway. How does sport define femininity? Well, according to the world of sport, you are 'guilty' of femininity (a) if you enjoy antique collecting, painting, salsa or bird watching (or anything else other than sport); and/or (b) if you are gay.

Let us deal with (a) first, because this is what is at the heart of the issue. Sport has created a masculine construct. To be a successful sportsman, traits such as power, speed, agility and competitiveness are essential. Simply put, as Steve Watson from footy4kids.co.uk advises, "Don’t be afraid to be a hero." Heroism is an integral part of masculinity. Collecting antiques and bird watching are signs of cowardice, apparently.

The reason I used antique collecting as an example is because it almost drove Graham Le Saux, former England and Chelsea left-back, out of football. He was taunted by fans and, disgracefully, even by those on the pitch; indeed, former Liverpool striker Robbie Fowler taunted him on the pitch. Why?

Well, you see, despite being a brilliant player, Le Saux graduated with an Environmental Studies degree, was an antique collector, and read The Guardian. I guess what I’m trying to say is that he just wasn’t – well – manly. Or that’s what the world of sport led people to believe.

So, if you fall into category (a), your chances of Champions League glory are looking dire, but you’ve still got a tiny bit of hope if you can show just how testosterone-driven and straight you are despite your love for crockery.

However, a harsher fate may befall you if you fall into category (b): if you are gay. This is because, whereas in (a) there was hope of salvaging your masculinity, there exists no such hope here. You’re gay. You’re not manly, says the world of sport. You could have the strength of Hercules for all they care, but you’re instead labelled as a ‘wuss’, a ‘poof’, and a ‘fag’.

In short, sport equates masculinity and heterosexuality; femininity and homosexuality go hand in hand. And, according to this logic, because there is no place for femininity in sport, there is no place for homosexuality either. As Neil Francis, former rugby player for London Irish crudely put it, gay men like ballet, not rugby.

Many of us will remember Gareth Thomas’s brave decision to come out after his retirement from rugby. He said: "I don't want to be known as a gay rugby player. I am a rugby player, first and foremost I am a man."

This quotation – whilst highlighting Thomas’s courage – also encapsulates the interplay between gender and sexuality in sport; "first and foremost I am a man". His words attest to his gender, as well as sexual, struggle; Thomas is trying to reassert his masculinity in the light of his coming out. But why?

Because gender is the basis of homophobia in sport. This can be seen in the remarkably fewer reports of gendered homophobia in women’s sport. Granted, sportswomen still face homophobia, but it is by no means as pervasive – or vicious – as that suffered by their male counterparts. 

The reason for this is, again, gender perceptions. As Una Mullaby from The Irish Times wonderfully points out, "when it comes to lesbians, the stereotype is that gay women are tougher, more butch, more 'sporty' or 'outdoorsy' than straight women". Very few would bat an eyelid if you told them that, for example, the scrum-half for the women’s Irish rugby team was a lesbian; "come on, lads, are you surprised? She’s a bleedin’ rugby player," is probably the response you’d get.

The world of sport, it seems, prescribes an 'ideal' of masculinity and heterosexuality - ignoring the potential for many different sexes, genders and sexualities. 

But is this 'ideal' a product of the world of sport, or is it a wider social issue?

I spoke to an experienced footballer at Fitzwilliam College. He tells me that some changing rooms "are hotbeds of homophobia" but that this is indicative of a lack of true inclusive team spirit. The issue, he tells me, is far more structural and has its origins off the pitch. I am inclined to agree.

That said, while some changing rooms may well be bastions of tolerance, that certainly is not the public perception. Here, the reality-perception dichotomy comes into play. It is sport’s duty – as one of the most powerful institutions in society – to attack gendered homophobia. For, if gender and sexuality are shown to be red herrings in sport, it won’t be long before the rest of society follows suit. Until then, I’ll always live in the hope that Jonny Wilkinson (and some of the Varsity blues) are closet homosexuals…