Sport must strive to be better than a microcosm of a flawed world. Yes, that's a lot to expect, and want, but isn't that why we place sport on such a pedestal?

Martina Navratilova, probably the first sports superstar to, at the height of her stardom, come out, declare herself bisexual. Her forthrightness cost her millions of dollars in endorsements in the early 1980s. Corporate homophobia. Back in 1987, she won the US Open mixed doubles title with Spain’s Emilio Sanchez. I remember the chatter at the time when a picture of the two holding the trophy was published: Navratilova’s biceps bulged as she gripped the silverware, Sanchez, his long, curly hair falling around his face, almost dwarfed by Navratilova because of the angle the picture was taken from. I don’t remember the caption word-for-word, but I recall it being something along the lines of who’s the man and who’s the woman.

Thoughts, and memories, of Navratilova, and her struggles to live a life of professional dignity, came back recently when news of her marriage to long-time partner, Russian businesswoman and former Miss USSR Julia Lemigova, floated in late in December.

The chatter about Navratilova had started much before the Sanchez picture, of course, especially since her greatest rival was Chris Evert, that all-American baseline beauty.

Evert was the one everyone loved; she was pretty, the length of her skirt had camerapersons clicking away, she wore her hair long … she was the “women’s” champion. Navratilova wore short skirts too, but she wasn’t the beauty tennis fans wanted their female stars to be. She was East European to start with, an outsider. And she played too rough. Also, it didn’t matter — Navratilova had lost 21 of the first 25 games the two played against each other. Chrissie was queen. But, by the end of their rivalry, Navratilova had gone 43-37.

From Greg Louganis to Billie Jean King to Ian Thorpe — top athletes all — none of them came out while they were still active.

When it comes to King, it was a palimony suit filed by her partner — Marilyn Barnett — that forced her to come out in 1987. And, “within 24 hours, I lost all my endorsements; I lost everything. I lost $2 million at least, because I had longtime contracts,” she told Boston.com.

Louganis came out in in the mid-1990s, also disclosing his HIV+ status and the fact that he had been diagnosed prior to the 1988 Seoul Olympics, where he had banged his head and lost consciousness, as well as a lot of blood. There was a lot of uncalled-for outrage about the hypothetical (and HIV specialists say, implausible) threat posed to others in the pool.

And Thorpe — it was in 2014, two years after his aborted comeback, that he came out. Having denied his homosexuality for years, Thorpe said on ABC News, “I am telling the world that I am gay… and I hope this makes it easier for others now, and even if you’ve held it in for years, it feels easier to get it out.”

Then there was Justin Fashanu, the footballer — the one that did come out. He killed himself at age 37 after being charged with sexually assaulting a teenager in America. Fashanu denied the charges, but said in his suicide note that he didn’t expect a fair trial because he was gay.

We aren’t comfortable with him in the locker room, they say. Or, she’s stronger than us, stronger than a woman, you know.

Sport, it’s widely held, is a microcosm of life. And sport’s reaction to people across the LGBTQI spectrum — well, a neat mirror to what we see around us, isn’t it?

There’s a curious story that might tell us a bit more about sport and life and microcosms. It was in 1977 that the Lionel Cup (tennis) was held in Texas. The tournament organisers were under fire for allowing the transgender athlete Renée Richards to take part. King decided to play, a decision roundly criticised by Evert. Guess who else was angry with King? Navratilova. “All of the women should stick together,” said Navratilova to San Antonio Light at the time.

King came out in 1987. In 1988, she said in an interview that Navratilova wasn’t supportive of her when she came out, the relationship (with Navratilova) had a “very bad five years”, she said. A surprising revelation, given that Navratilova had made public her bisexuality in 1981. Navratilova later identified as lesbian.

Now, there is no reason why our sporting icons must come out. Certainly no one else should be outing them (or anyone). With sportspersons, it’s not only the locker-room gossip and stone-faced parents that you and I have to deal with. Apart from the intangibles of fame and popularity, they stand to lose a lot of money, too. Even today, corporate wisdom says that a non-straight athlete is a risky proposition. That’s what impels Louganis or Thorpe, by far the best in their sport in their era, to keep quiet. And who can blame them?

The world of men’s sport is a macho one, with all the attendant prejudices about masculinity and what makes a man. And while women’s sport encourages power and places the strongest ones on a pedestal, things are hardly better there.

Witness only the outcry over Dutee Chand here in India recently, or with Santhi Soundarajan and Pinki Pramanik earlier. Or what Caster Semenya, the champion South African athlete, had to deal with. In a world where sense was at a premium, these women were called “male”, “not quite female” and so on. The official version is that they have higher testosterone levels than the average woman and, therefore, shouldn’t be allowed to compete against other women. The solution offered? That these athletes surgically or medically ensure their testosterone levels are at par with other women. Isn’t that like saying everyone should be the same weight, or have the same body-mass index or the same muscle density? Unarguably, human bodies, like human sexualities, are wonderfully complex and diverse.

“Who is a woman and who is a man isn’t as easy as we think it is, especially when it comes to sports,” said Juliet Macur, the New York Times journalist who met and profiled Chand, late last year to Bill Littlefield of Only A Game.

Ultimately, it is a simple matter. Sport must strive to be better than a microcosm of a flawed world. Yes, that’s a lot to expect, and want, but isn’t that why we place sport on such a pedestal?