Column: Collins Significant, but Not True Pioneer Jason Collins has been compared to Jackie Robinson. And Neil Armstrong. Courageous? True pioneer? Not exactly. Now that we've had a few days to reflect on what it means for Collins to come out as gay, it's time to recognize what this really was - a significant step, to be sure, but hardly a slam-dunk leap toward an equal playing field. To be clear, I'm pulling hard for Collins to be on an NBA roster next season, to get a chance to show all the doubters and nay-sayers that a gay man can be just another guy in a pro sports locker room. But even if Collins does land another contract - hardly a sure thing, given he's a 34-year-old journeyman center who barely played this season for the woeful Washington Wizards and is now a free agent - I'm not convinced this will be as groundbreaking as so many are making it out to be. For starters, anyone who plays with Collins will have a whole summer to prepare for the inevitable, annoying questions, to bury their beliefs or prejudices so deep there's no chance of getting them to reveal how they really feel. They'll know that Collins likely will be around for one more year, so they can keep smiling and saying how proud they are to have him as a teammate. Very soon, he'll be gone. Even if another team gives Collins a chance to play, he isn't going to be on the court very much. A 7-footer with limited offensive skills, he's logged an average of 34 games over the last five seasons. Those rare spots he did get in, he averaged less than 11 minutes of playing time. At best, maybe there's a handful of games, most likely when his team faces one of the league's few imposing centers, like Dwight Howard and Roy Hibbert. At worst, he comes off as a token, a player whose career would have been over had he not come out, who gets a job because the league or a team wants to look progressive. As former Dolphins linebacker Channing Crowder said on his radio show in Miami, Collins' revelation isn't going to have the same impact as a younger player who is either a starter or at least a significant contributor, whose best years are ahead. "Him being the low-end player he is, it's not going to open enough minds," said Crowder, who also said he respects Collins for taking such a bold step. Others went way, way overboard in the heat of the moment. Boston Celtics coach Doc Rivers made comparisons to Robinson, who became the first black major leaguer in 1947. TV pundit Star Jones referenced Rosa Parks, who sparked the Montgomery bus boycott of the 1950s, a landmark event in the civil rights movement. Olympic gold medalist Greg Louganis, who came out after his diving career ended, looked to the heavens for the appropriate analogy. "It is almost like Neil Armstrong on the moon," Louganis said. One small step for man, one giant step for mankind. While the praise for Collins was generally universal, a sign of how much the country has moved in the right direction on issues of sexuality, there are still plenty of reasons to be skeptical of just how much the macho world of pro sports will be accepting of a gay teammate. One doesn't have to spend long hanging out in a baseball clubhouse or a football or basketball locker room to hear gay slurs casually thrown around. A player who gives up a home run, or fails to make a tackle, or gets dunked on, is often referred to as "gay" - meant to describe weakness, someone who isn't as good as the next guy.