Under The Surface - Season 1: Visibility & Pressure | Chapter 2: Mikey Connor

Being seen without changing who you are

Mikey Connor did not set out to become a visible figure in conversations about identity in sport. He grew up in Liverpool with the same route into football as many boys on Merseyside. Watching Everton, playing for local teams, and building his life around the game. Years later, he stands in the middle of pitches across the region as a qualified referee with Liverpool County FA. At the same time, he is recognised across the UK and beyond as a contestant from the BBC’s first gay dating show, I Kissed A Boy, and as an openly gay man with a large social following who speaks candidly about sexuality, sport, and men’s health.

Visibility does not always arrive on your terms. For Mikey, it came through two very different doors. One is a football pitch where he takes control of ninety minutes under scrutiny from players, coaches, and fans. The other is national television on the UK’s first gay dating show, I Kissed A Boy, where openness and personality sit at the centre of the experience.

That combination places him in a unique position. He operates inside a sport that still struggles with full LGBTQ acceptance, while also being publicly visible as a gay man on television and online. Season one of Under the Surface explores visibility and pressure in men’s lives. Mikey’s story is not about switching personas. It is about staying the same person in environments that expect very different things from you.

Two arenas, one identity

Most people who recognise Mikey know him from one of two places. Either as the referee in the middle of a football match, managing players, coaches, and supporters for ninety minutes. Or as the open, expressive, funny, and honest man they watched on I Kissed A Boy.

He understands the distance between those worlds.

“I would like to think that this is evident on my social media platforms, where I heavily talk about my sexuality and being a gay referee. I think I almost, not live two separate lives, but as much as I try to combine the both together they are two separate entities.”

Football came first. As a child and teenager, he says his sexuality and football did not overlap in his mind. His love for the game took over everything. Being gay sat quietly in the background of that life.

Now, he is clear about who he is and proud of it.

“There is no hiding from the fact I am a PROUD gay man and not embarrassed by my sexuality.”

Yet the environments remain far apart. Football, in his words, still has a long way to go.

“Football is in the dark ages still and has a long way to go in terms of total acceptance.”

He hears the comments. Some come from the stands. Some come from social media. Homophobia is still present in the sport he loves. The irony is that many of the people he referees for do not know he is gay at all.

“When I turn up of a weekend, I'm simply just Mikey the Referee.”

That line sits at the centre of his story. In football, his identity is reduced to his role. In public, his identity is amplified because of who he is.

Authority without performance

Refereeing demands a particular presence. You must be calm, decisive, and in control. You cannot make the game about you. Your authority comes from how you manage the match, not from personality.

Television asked something different of him. Be open. Be expressive. Show who you are.

For many people, switching between those expectations would take effort. For Mikey, it does not.

“I’m an open book, I am always just myself and deal with whatever is in front of me. I am a confident guy, I’ll pretty much have a go at anything hence me going on a TV show.”

He does not step onto a pitch thinking about how he appears as a gay man. He steps onto a pitch to do a job.

“The second I blow the whistle, from minute one to minute ninety, I don't think about my sexuality or how I come across to the players, management or fans. I am there to do a job.”

Football culture carries strong ideas about masculinity, authority, and respect. He is aware of that, but he does not feel the need to manage how much of himself he shows to fit in. For him, respect comes from competence.

“As long as I am doing my job correctly and fairly nobody cares who or what you are.”

He compares this to female referees in the men’s game. Before kick off, some people question whether they belong. After a well managed match, those doubts fade.

“By the end of the match people have forgot that a woman has been in charge.”

In the same way, he believes that once the game starts, sexuality becomes irrelevant if you are good at what you do.

Masculinity, football, and silence

Mikey does not present himself as an activist on the pitch. He does not make speeches. He does not announce his sexuality before a match. He turns up, referees, and leaves.

At the same time, he knows what football culture is like. He knows the stereotypes have not changed for decades. He knows the sport still carries outdated attitudes towards masculinity and sexuality.

This creates a quiet tension. He is living proof that a gay man belongs in the game. Yet the people around him may not realise that proof is standing in front of them.

That is where visibility and invisibility collide. He is highly visible online and on television as a gay man. He is largely invisible in football as one.

Living with criticism as part of the role

Referees work in a space where disagreement is constant. Every decision splits opinion.

“For every decision I make 11 players will be for it, and 11 will be against it. That's the nature of the beast.”

He speaks about this with blunt honesty. You need resilience. You need a “bloody good backbone”. You cannot take things personally. You have to accept that people will not like what you do.

He even jokes about the logic of the role.

“In what world do you wake up one day and decide to expose yourself to potential abuse for 90 minutes.”

Yet he enjoys it. He sees it as part of the challenge. More importantly, he recognises how refereeing shapes him away from football.

“Whilst on the pitch you just have to take your time with things especially if the temperature is rising, take a step back, deep breath and think logically.”

That mindset follows him home. When the match ends, he leaves the pressure behind.

“Once the 90 minutes are up and I have left the venue, whatever has just happened is forgotten about. I’ll go home, do my admin, stick the kettle on and watch Match of the Day.”

The scrutiny does not stay with him. He has learned how to contain it.

Recognition, scrutiny, and social media

Appearing on I Kissed A Boy did not change how players or coaches treated him. Most of them did not know about the show. Football and television remained separate worlds.

What did change was the scale of visibility in his life. His social media following grew during COVID. That following played a part in him being cast. Once the show aired, his profile travelled far beyond the UK.

“I think if in 2026 and you are active on social media you are opening yourself up to criticism and scrutiny. Unless you have the ability to handle it, I would suggest you don't even bother trying to create a big following.”

He does not shy away from that scrutiny. He leans into it.

“I like it, I’m not going to lie. I like it, it drives me on to do better if I get criticism, I always try and make it work in my favour.”

Handling thousands of opinions online and managing twenty two players on a pitch rely on the same skill. Stay calm. Stay logical. Do not let noise dictate how you behave.

Being seen without changing

hat makes Mikey’s story sit so firmly inside visibility and pressure is that he does not respond to either by reshaping himself.

He does not create a television version of Mikey and a football version of Mikey. He does not soften himself for the pitch or exaggerate himself for the camera.

He accepts that football still has work to do. He accepts that social media invites judgement. He accepts that being openly gay in and around football can attract negative comments.

What he does not accept is the idea that he should hide, adjust, or perform differently to make others more comfortable.

He arrives at the ground as Mikey the referee. He appears on screen as Mikey the gay man. In both places, he is the same person.

That consistency is where his confidence sits. Not in being louder. Not in being more visible. But in refusing to be different depending on who is watching.

And when the final whistle goes, he goes home, puts the kettle on, and leaves the noise where it belongs.

Quick Fire