Nearly a decade after coming out as a gay football star, Jake Bain is building a wider legacy in St Louis, from Ferguson Pride and youth sport to mental-health support for athletes who may feel stranded when competition ends.
Essential Takeaways
- A visible trailblazer: Bain’s public coming-out as a high-level American football player challenged assumptions about LGBTQ athletes.
- Ferguson Pride: He’s helping establish a non-profit intended to bring a Pride parade and festival to St Louis County.
- Sport for young people: Sports Are Universal aims to offer free programmes for marginalised and at-risk children.
- Mental-health focus: Bain is training as a behavioural health therapist with ambitions to support elite athletes.
- A route back to the game: Coaching, school work and even rugby could keep him connected to sport.
From football headline to community builder
When Jake Bain came out publicly, the story travelled far beyond the football field. He was a talented American high-school player bound for Division I college football, yet he was also speaking openly about being gay and having a boyfriend. That combination felt striking in 2017, when openly gay male footballers remained rare in the public eye.
The attention was enormous, including an appearance on The Ellen DeGeneres Show. But Bain’s story didn’t stop at visibility. According to Outsports, he’s continued looking for practical ways to serve LGBTQ people and leave something useful behind. That’s the difference between being a symbol and becoming an organiser.
His early visibility also drew support from people in St Louis after he was targeted by a hate group, as LGBTQ Nation reported. It’s a reminder that public courage can inspire solidarity, but it can also expose athletes to pressures their teammates may never have to navigate.
Ferguson Pride brings local action into focus
Bain is now one of the founders of Ferguson Pride, a charitable organisation planned around a Pride parade and festival in Historic Downtown Ferguson. The ambition is local and tangible: not just celebrating LGBTQ identity online, but creating a gathering place where people can meet, feel visible and take up space together.
That matters particularly in a community with a complicated recent history around race, policing and public protest. A Pride event in Ferguson would carry more meaning than a colourful date on the calendar. It would show how sport, identity and civic life can overlap in a way that feels genuinely rooted.
His advocacy has also been part of a longer conversation about how openly gay athletes can change sporting culture. Earlier coverage of Bain highlighted his wish to see more football players live openly, rather than quietly managing a second life away from the changing room.
Why Sports Are Universal could matter to young athletes
Bain is also developing Sports Are Universal, a St Louis non-profit designed to provide free after-school and summer sports programmes. Its focus is on marginalised and at-risk young people, with particular attention to LGBTQ+ youth and children who might otherwise be priced out of organised sport.
The practical case is strong. Teams offer routine, friendship and confidence, but fees, transport and a lack of welcoming coaches can shut young people out. For an LGBTQ teenager, the question isn’t only whether they can afford to join. It’s whether they’ll feel safe once they arrive.
That makes inclusive coaching essential. Clear anti-bullying rules, respectful language and adults who understand the pressures facing LGBTQ pupils can make a soft, welcoming environment feel possible. Older reporting on Bain’s impact shows why representation helps, but access is what turns inspiration into participation.
The quieter challenge after the final whistle
Bain’s next chapter is also focused on mental health. He’s working under clinical supervision towards becoming a fully licensed behavioural health therapist, with the goal of supporting high-level athletes during competition and after their playing careers end.
That transition can be surprisingly abrupt. Years of training, travel, physical targets and team identity may disappear almost overnight when an athlete graduates, is injured or simply reaches the end of their career. Bain has spoken from personal experience about the difficulty of adjusting when the jersey and routine are gone.
His approach is refreshingly practical. Rather than treating mental health as something athletes address only in crisis, he wants teams to build support into the sporting journey itself. Previous coverage of his career and advocacy also underlined the pressure faced by openly LGBTQ athletes, who may be managing performance demands alongside questions about safety and belonging.
Coaching, school sport and a possible rugby return
Bain hasn’t stepped away from sport. He has volunteered with a local middle-school football team and worked at a camp run by former teammate Foye Oluokun, now a Jacksonville Jaguars linebacker. Those roles keep him close to the everyday details of coaching: patience, repetition and the occasional heroic battle over who gets the last ball.
In time, he hopes to return to his former school as a social worker and head football coach. That would bring his interests together neatly, combining pastoral care, leadership and the sport that first gave him a public platform.
He’s even hinted at a return to competitive action, this time on a rugby pitch. It’s a playful possibility, but it also says something important about his outlook. Life after elite football doesn’t have to mean leaving sport behind; it can mean finding a new position within it.
Bain’s work suggests that an athlete’s influence can grow after the scoreboard stops. For LGBTQ young people, it offers a visible example of what comes next: advocacy, care, coaching and community.
A lasting sporting legacy may be built as much off the pitch as on it.
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