Chris Kluwe, the National Football League punter who has been an outspoken advocate for LGBT equality both inside and outside sports, announced Thursday that he will sign a one-year contract with the Oakland Raiders. Kluwe played the previous eight seasons for the Minnesota Vikings before being cut earlier this month after the Vikings selected a punter in the 5th round of April’s NFL Draft.

Kluwe, incidentally, is moving from one state that just passed marriage equality (Minnesota) to one where same-sex marriage is still illegal (California), and he told fellow LGBT ally Brendon Ayanbadejo that he will remain an advocate for LGBT rights when he joins the Raiders, Ayanbadejo wrote on FOXSports.com:

Kluwe is known for his mind and mouth, as well as his leg. He is a vocal advocate of equality in sports (and life), and says he will continue to speak for what he believes.

“I’m still going to be myself socially and continue to tweet and interact with my fans,” Kluwe said.

Kluwe and Ayanbadejo were both released by their teams this spring, immediately fueling speculation around the sports world that their advocacy had been a factor in the teams’ decisions. Even Minnesota Gov. Mark Dayton (D) weighed in when Kluwe was cut, saying, “Yeah, I don’t feel good about it,” an implication that Kluwe’s outspokenness played a role in his release. Others raised similar questions when the Baltimore Ravens released Ayanbadejo.

Though Ayanbadejo remains unsigned, Kluwe’s new contract should put those concerns to rest. The reality is that the release of both players looked more like business decisions — Kluwe was due $1.45 million in 2013, nearly $1 million more than the Vikings will pay his rookie replacement. Ayanbadejo, meanwhile, was an aging 36-year-old linebacker who primarily played special teams, and considering that the Ravens handed out a record contract to quarterback Joe Flacco, his $940,000 salary at an easy-to-replace position made him expendable (he was hardly the only prominent Raven to fall victim to cost-cutting this offseason).

And as as Cyd Zeigler argued at OutSports when the Vikings cut Kluwe, immediate speculation without evidence that advocacy played a role in their releases can be counterproductive to the cause they are pushing, Ayanbadejo, Kluwe, and other players have fought to make the NFL a more open and inclusive place both for advocates of LGBT rights and for gay players. But painting football as a place where those voices still aren’t welcome, where speaking out carries the penalty of losing one’s job, only encourages allies to remain quiet and gay players to stay in the closet. And it ignores the progress the league as made. Despite hiccups along the way, the NFL has indeed become a more open place: not only are Kluwe and Ayanbadejo speaking out, but so are both NFL Players Association president Dominque Foxworth and NFL commissioner Roger Goodell, and the league has strengthened its efforts to rid the game of discrimination and homophobia.

If evidence existed that Kluwe and Ayanbadejo’s advocacy played a role in either situation, it should be publicized, shamed, and subject to the league’s non-discrimination policy. It’s far more likely, though, that Kluwe and Ayanbadejo were cut because football, as Zeigler explained, “is a numbers game.” Making legitimate business decisions doesn’t make a football team discriminatory, and treating legitimate business decisions as discriminatory only ensures that football will remain in the shadows of tolerance for far longer than it should.

The never-ending dispute over whether the National Football League’s Washington Redskins should change their name is heating up again. Early in May, D.C. City Councilman David Grosso introduced a resolution asking the team to change its “racist and derogatory” name, an effort that even drew the attention of the team’s star quarterback, Robert Griffin III, who posted a cryptic tweet about the “tyranny of political correctness” that, it turned out, was in reference to efforts to change the title of the franchise he represents.

But Grosso’s non-binding resolution is the least of the Redskins’ worries. The big threat to the team and its owner, Dan Snyder, is the federal Trademark Trial and Appeal Board, which in February heard a case petitioning it to classify the word “Redskin” as a derogatory slur: as such, it wouldn’t be eligible for trademark protection. But even if it loses that case, the team will “NEVER” change its name, Snyder told the USA Today on Thursday:

“We will never change the name of the team,” Snyder told USA TODAY Sports this week. “As a lifelong Redskins fan, and I think that the Redskins fans understand the great tradition and what it’s all about and what it means, so we feel pretty fortunate to be just working on next season.”

What if his football team loses an ongoing federal trademark lawsuit? Would he consider changing it then?

“We’ll never change the name,” he said. “It’s that simple. NEVER — you can use caps.”

The trademark case won’t be resolved anytime soon — probably not until next year, and it will likely see appeals after that. The board stripped the Redskins of their trademark in 1999, only to have the decision overturned on a technicality (that petitioners waited too long to file their claim) in 2003. But the basic case is pretty strong: “Redskins” is plainly derogatory, a racial marker that various dictionaries define as “offensive” and a “term of disparagement,” and petitioners have this time structured the case in a manner that should avoid the timing technicality. Native Americans and activists have fought its use for years, with one, Clem Iron Wing, reportedly telling a school board in Wichita, Kansas — where a high school uses the nickname — that the “only way ‘redskin’ was ever used towards my people and myself was in a derogatory manner.” Pay close enough attention to the debate, and you’ll notice that no one — not even Snyder — defends the term on the grounds that it isn’t racist or derogatory. Instead, they argue that the team should keep it because it’s “tradition” and because 79 percent of Americans support it.

Losing the trademark wouldn’t force the Redskins to change the name. What it would do, however, is make it impossible to stop other people from using it. In short, Snyder wouldn’t be able to stop anyone else from making merchandise with the team name and undercutting official Redskins gear, or to charge anyone for using the name, changes that would cost Snyder considerable financial damage — “every imaginable loss you can think of,” according to attorneys in the 1999 case — and activists hope that would be enough to change his mind. Snyder, though, is a man of immense pride, and my suspicion is that he would try to eat his losses and keep the name out of spite, at least for the time being.

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell isn’t likely to feel the same way. Goodell has thus far expressed a startling level of indifference toward the controversy, but if the Redskins lose the trademark — and the NFL’s ability to make money off their licensed and trademarked merchandise — that indifference will assuredly fade. Goodell might “understand the affinity for that name” among fans, but he won’t understand — or tolerate — big financial losses. Ideally, Snyder and Goodell would change the name because it’s plainly derogatory. Getting rid of it because using racist terminology is expensive, though, may have to suffice.

The Miami Dolphins have canceled plans to upgrade Sun Life Stadium after the Florida state House of Representatives ended its 2013 legislative session Friday without voting on legislation that would have put the franchise one step closer to securing $380 million in public funding for the renovation project. Had the legislation passed, it would have triggered a May 14 referendum election in which Miami voters would have decided whether to hand their tax dollars to the Dolphins.

The stadium upgrade has been a priority for Dolphins owner Stephen Ross, the billionaire who bought the team in 2008 and wants the renovation to attract future Super Bowls to Miami. But Speaker Will Weatherford (R) ended the session without a vote (it had already passed the state Senate) because, he said, the legislation didn’t have the requisite support for passage. Lawmakers on both sides of the aisle and particularly those from the Miami-Dade area, Weatherford said, weren’t in favor of it. Dolphins CEO Mike Dee, unsurprisingly, didn’t make it through the weekend without issuing veiled threats to leave South Florida if they didn’t end up with public financing to renovate the stadium, the Palm Beach Post reported:

“We cannot do this without a public-private partnership,” Dee said.

Dee also said the lack of a deal could increase the chances of the Dolphins eventually leaving South Florida. Dee said Ross, who paid an NFL-record $1.1 billion for the Dolphins in 2009, isn’t threatening to move the team, but sources close to Ross, 73, believe he has no intention of passing the team on to his heirs and will sell it within 10 years.

“The Dolphins are one of the only franchises in the NFL that don’t have a long-term lease with their community,” Dee said. “At some point somebody’s going to buy the franchise from Steve, and clearly the stadium is the first thing they would need to address.”

It’s worth noting that Sun Life Stadium (née Joe Robbie Stadium) was built entirely with private funds in 1987, and it has served as a more than capable home of Dolphins, five Super Bowls, and four college football national championship games since. But in this era of publicly-financed stadiums (that almost always hurt taxpayers) and an NFL that requires teams to secure public money before giving owners access to low-interest stadium loans, private financing is unconscionable to owners like Ross.

Dee sent that signal more clearly than any recent owner has: it doesn’t matter that the Dolphins have called Miami home since 1966, longer than 17 of the NFL’s 32 teams have played in their current city. Without public financing, the team doesn’t care — not about taxpayers, particularly not about those who just forked $400 million to the city’s Major League Baseball team two years ago only to see that deal blow up in their faces to the tune of $2.4 billion over the same type of “long-term lease” the Dolphins are now seeking.

“I want this to be my legacy for Miami-Dade County,” Ross said after the legislation failed, according to the Miami Herald. If that’s the legacy Ross wants, he has enough money in his own wallet to ensure it’s the legacy he gets.

The National Football League will improve its outreach and education efforts about its anti-discrimination policy, which expanded to prevent discrimination based on sexual orientation in 2011, according to an agreement it reached with New York Attorney General Eric Schneiderman (D). Schneiderman and the NFL have been in talks to improve enforcement and awareness of the policy since the end of the league’s pre-draft combine, when prospective draft picks (including Notre Dame linebacker Manti Te’o) were asked if they were gay.

Schneiderman announced the agreement, which requires the NFL to display notices of its policy in locker rooms and to conduct training for players and employees involved in hiring, Wednesday morning:

Following discussions with the Attorney General’s office, the NFL will undertake new actions to reinforce its policies against discrimination based on sexual orientation, including the development and dissemination of posters to be displayed in locker rooms throughout the league conveying the NFL’s anti-discrimination policies.

The NFL will also take steps to distribute the policy to all 32 teams in the league, conduct training across the league around the policy — including for rookies and individuals involved in hiring and recruitment of new players — and strengthen protocols concerning the reporting of complaints of discrimination or harassment by players.

This is, of course, a positive development, as a non-discrimination policy is rather useless if players, scouts, executives, and league hiring officials don’t know about it or what it means. But if the NFL wants to make itself a truly inclusive place for gay players, employees, and fans, it still needs to do more.

CBS Sports’ Mike Freeman reported last month that there is a gay NFL player who is considering coming out, and that his biggest concern is not how his teammates or coaches and executives will react. Instead, it’s how much abuse he will receive from fans. That’s a legitimate concern, one that is harder for teams and the NFL to control. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t steps the NFL can take to control it — both to the benefit of gay players and to gay fans.

The league could, for instance, post notices in stadiums (similar to those it will post in locker rooms) alerting fans that discriminatory behavior and language directed at players won’t be tolerated by teams and security officials, clarifying that such language counts as the kind of disruptive behavior that all stadiums tell ticketholders can get them ejected. It could also require teams to include notices in season ticket packages that let fans know that anyone who displays discriminatory behavior could have their tickets revoked or suspended. It won’t be possible for security to notice every fan who calls a player a “faggot,” but there are simple steps the league can take to promote an atmosphere of inclusion. That atmosphere by default would help fans both police themselves and the other fans around them.

This isn’t just important for making it easier for the first NFL player to come out of the closet. It’s also important because there are millions of gay NFL fans in the United States, and they deserve to watch football in the same type of inclusive environment the NFL is promoting among its players.

Mike Freeman from CBS Sports reported Monday that “a current gay NFL player is strongly considering coming out publicly within the next few months — and after doing so, the player would attempt to continue his career.” That’s a move that would break one of the biggest barriers in American professional sports, which have never had an openly gay male athlete.

Last month, I talked to Travon Free, a former basketball player at California State-Long Beach who came out as bisexual after his career ended, about what an openly gay athlete would mean both to sports and to the overall movement for equality, and he told me that the first openly gay male athlete would be equivalent to Jackie Robinson. But the NFL may be even more ready for an openly gay player than baseball was for Jackie. Players like Scott Fujita, Brendan Ayanbadejo, and Chris Kluwe have endorsed the fights for gay rights both in and out of sports, and players pushed the league to add sexual orientation to its nondiscrimination provision in 2011. Even negative events — Chris Culliver’s anti-gay comments before the Super Bowl and reports that teams were asking draftees like Manti Te’o if they “like girls” — were greeted with positive responses from players, the union, and the NFL itself. And NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, who has a gay brother, could see the breaking of this barrier as a positive part of his legacy.

With that in mind, here are four lessons from Jackie Robinson’s integration of baseball that could allow the first openly gay player to overcome challenges and have the broadest impact possible:

Be a quality player: Being a top-notch player isn’t a requirement for the first openly gay player, but it would maximize the social impact and minimize the risk of facing backlash from management, fans, and opponents. Less prominent players may run into problems with their teams or fans as the first open player, but no one will care about sexuality if, say, a gay wide receiver catches 85 passes and scores 10 touchdowns next year. A recognizable player also would broaden the social impact, both inside and outside sports, of having an openly gay athlete, just as Jackie Robinson’s breaking of the color barrier would not have had such an immediate impact had he not also become a star. Robinson won the Rookie of the Year award in 1947; by 1949, he was the game’s Most Valuable Player. In three years, Robinson proved not only that blacks could compete with whites but that they could be the best player in a league full of people who thought blacks were racially inferior, and that star power stretched his outcome outside the game as well. A prominent player won’t only face less risk, he’ll make it easier for others to come out in his wake while boosting the LGBT movement outside of sports as well.

Be in a conducive locker room: One of the lasting images of baseball’s integration came when Pee Wee Reese, the Dodgers’ white southern shortstop, embraced Robinson in the middle of the field. It was a message to players and fans that Robinson, no matter his skin color, was welcome to play the game. How white players would accept a black teammate was certainly a major concern then, and much has been made of football’s “locker room culture” preventing the game from becoming an inclusive place for gay athletes. This is somewhat overblown, in my view, and Free told me that he never heard teammates say they wouldn’t play with a gay teammate and that blaming the locker room culture was a “cop-out.” Still, it would help the first openly gay player to be in a locker room that is as welcoming as possible. That could be in a locker room with a fierce advocate for LGBT equality, like Minnesota, Baltimore, or Cleveland, or in any other where the player knows he has support. Having both the public and private support of teammates is paramount to help address issues and opposition the player may face from other teammates, opponents, and fans.

Be able to ignore fans (and opponents): Robinson was famously told by Dodgers general manager Branch Rickey that early in his career he had to ignore the racial slurs fans and opponents hurled at him and prove them wrong on the field. That same dynamic will come into play for the first openly gay player, and Freeman reported that the “true concern” of the player who is considering coming out is that he “fears he will suffer serious harm from homophobic fans, and that is the only thing preventing him from coming out.” That’s understandable. But as Free told me, taking verbal abuse from fans is part of the game. Players already hear nasty taunts about their supposed sexual preferences, their mothers, and anything else drunken fans can come up with. Opponents will also say anything — no matter how nasty — to get under a player’s skin, though the NFL can easily enforce harsh penalties on players who utter gay slurs at opponents. It will be up to franchises, stadium security, and other fans, meanwhile, to make sure that slurs and unruly behavior that may threaten a player’s safety aren’t tolerated.

Be willing to be an icon: As easy as that sounds — aren’t all professional athletes aiming to be icons? — it isn’t easy for a player to carry the burden of an entire movement, especially one that is inherently political in nature. When activists were asking Latino baseball players to take a stand against Arizona’s anti-immigrant SB 1070 law during the 2011 All-Star Game in Phoenix, David Ortiz, the Dominican star of the Boston Red Sox, responded, “I ain’t Jackie Robinson.” Fair or not, breaking this barrier will mean more media attention, more heckling from fans, more worries about being a distraction to the team. Not all players are Jackie Robinson. But the first openly gay athlete in major American professional sports has to be.