The last time I saw Pete—founder, heart and soul of Hong Kong’s first and only gay football team—we were in a dark bar in Soho lamenting what felt like the final days of the team. Pete had started One Nil almost 15 years before, and the adventures we had shared together, from the last-minute goal with a broken arm, or the time we lost our keeper to the Tokyo nightlife a few hours before a tournament, were the stuff of legend. Once a vibrant and close-knit family, it seemed to me that One Nil had started to disintegrate due to the natural forces of time, that our days seemed numbered. 

In Chinese gay internet lingo, the number one, a phallic representation, is the sign for “tops” and zero, the hole, is the sign for “bottoms” and 1-0 is a typical score in bed…if you know what I mean. The team has always been a mixed crowd: we’ve had tall guys, short guys, thin guys, muscular guys, bankers, students, writers, guys who were good at soccer, guys who wanted to be good at soccer.

Though our name came easily, the raison d’etre of One Nil is at times difficult to explain. After all, what does being gay have to do with playing football? A gay football team challenges stereotypes that have long plagued the sport. In the 1990s, former Tottenham Hotspur center-back Sol Campbell faced relentless abuse from rival fans across the country after his controversial move to bitter rivals Arsenal, including chants that labeled him a “Judas cunt with HIV”—a stark example of how homophobia and stigma were weaponized in football culture. Graeme Le Saux, another England footballer, was pelted with homophobic chants in stadiums across the country simply because he liked antiques. Both players are in fact straight. In 1998, Justin Fashanu, the first openly gay professional footballer, killed himself after a career plagued with hostility from his teammates, managers, and family.