We've all said things we regret

When I was in grade school and into middle school, I would call things I didn't like gay. When I was in high school and into college, I would call things retarded. These were mistakes. I shouldn't have said these things.

My intention was never to cause any harm to the LGBT community, a group that even in my ignorance I never would have claimed to dislike, nor to the intellectually disabled, a group whose ability to overcome the structural barriers they face in society I have always admired. I would say these words because I heard other people say them and I wanted to mimick what I heard from others. But that isn't an excuse. I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't said those things. They did not, and do not, reflect how I feel. This does not excuse what I did, but I do hope that it helps to assure I don't do it again.

In 2007, former NBA point guard Tim Hardaway caused a firestorm when, in comments made about the recent coming out of former NBA center John Amaechi, he said, "I hate gay people...I am homophobic. I don't like it. I shouldn't be in the world or in the United States." Hardaway is a five-time NBA All-Star and a borderline Hall of Famer, but for many fans, this is his legacy.

In the immediate aftermath, Hardaway apologized, and it wasn't enough. He quickly became a league-wide pariah. Sometimes, an apology is enough to receive forgiveness, but this wasn't the case for Hardaway. But he didn't complain that he wasn't granted a free pass. He went to work. In 2009, Hardaway co-sponsored a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, a group which works to prevent suicide among LGBT youth. In 2011, he became involved in El Paso (where he played college basketball) politics, advocating for three city officials who were recalled after they pushed to restore domestic partnership benefits. When Jason Collins became the first openly gay active player in the history of the NBA, one of the first people to call him with his support was Tim Hardaway.

Is this enough? Has Tim Hardaway done enough to rehabilitate his image? Honestly, I don't know the answer. Several notable voices in the LGBT community, such as Outsports.com's Cyd Zeigler, say yes.

But whether Hardaway has done enough or not, I think there is value in establishing the idea that forgiveness is possible. I don't say this as a straight man who wants to easy fix for past and future intolerance. I say this as somebody who believes that redemption is possible. I don't want a world in which it would not be possible for Tim Hardaway to atone for his sins. It can (it should) be difficult. It can be borderline impossible. But the window of opportunity has led to somebody who could have easily withered into a closed life becoming somebody who strives to be better.

On Tuesday night, Paul Gackle, a Bay Area-based sports reporter, unearthed three problematic tweets written by St. Louis Blues rookie goaltender Jordan Binnington, on the eve of his Stanley Cup Playoffs debut against the Winnipeg Jets. The tweets went semi-viral, to the extent that any NHL story can go viral in early April. The Winnipeg Free Press covered the story here.

I do not believe that Paul Gackle was acting in good faith. I don't believe for a second that this was a sincere attempt to expose racism in the NHL. I believe this was an attempt by a fan (Gackle may be a journalist, but he is also a Winnipeg native) to cut his opponent down. I believe that he wanted to use the tweets as a prop to win favor with local fans, hence why he punctuated one of his quote-tweets with "He'd get torched for this if he played in the Bay Area" (completely unrelated: here is a story about how a current center for the Golden State Warriors believes Democrats ran a child sex trafficking ring out of a Washington D.C. pizza parlor).

But Paul Gackle didn't invent these tweets. Jordan Binnington did ask about how people in burkas got through airport security. Regardless of the motives behind why these tweets were exposed, this truth remains.

I don't believe that Jordan Binnington's tweets warrant a suspension or even a fine. On the Josh Hader Scale of Bad Athlete Tweets, I do believe these tweets register relatively low. I believe these are tweets that could be easily forgotten by most people with some minimal amount of contrition. "I'm sorry I said what I said. I was trying to make jokes but in hindsight, I understand why they are unfunny and offensive, and they do not reflect who I am today."

But Binnington didn't apologize. When confronted about the tweets, he said he didn't want to talk about it and that it happened a long time ago and that he wanted to focus on hockey. And countless fans, many of whom had excoriated Josh Hader less than a year ago when his old tweets came to light, were quick to rush to his defense. The arguments were the same ones Milwaukee Brewers fans had used. They just came out of St. Louis.

Most of us don't have to answer for the stupid things we said when we were younger (although I think some have been a bit too quick to rush to referring to Binnington, who could legally drink in the United States when he made one of these three tweets, "a kid"). Binnington was arguably placed in an unfair situation. But rather than believing he shouldn't have to show contrition because of the uniqueness of his fame, I tend to err on the side that what he faced--being forced to atone for his mistakes--should be faced by all of us.

We've all said things we regret. The very least we can do is make it clear that we regret them.