Probably they should! He's happy to teach the people on his team how to throw a football, should he need to. 

Sasha doesn't have much familiarity with football, but from what he's been able to glean, it's basically soccer mixed with bullfighting except worse. 

"...Did you follow that explanation of the rules at all?"

"You have to get the ball to the other end of the field, like in soccer, except sometimes you get head injuries, and also the ball is really hard to throw for some reason." 

"Hm. I can do that."

Lev's strategy for football, like all sports, is to appear to be participating with great enthusiasm but mysteriously to never end up actually touching the ball. 

Whenever someone looks like they're about to touch Sasha, they are bodyslammed or kicked in the chest by six feet and two inches of solid muscle.

He runs a lot and for some strange reason is never far away from Asher. 

Asher, much to his surprise, finds himself enjoying football. There's a certain pleasure in your body doing exactly what you want it to do, the pleasure he feels when he executes a difficult move exactly as the choreographer intended. He feels that pleasure when he gets the ball from Marlo, when he runs, when he throws, when he scores.

Every movement he makes is fluid and graceful. His back is straight, his chest lifted, his neck long. He's smiling. 

It's fun, right? 

Between the two of them, almost nobody else touches the ball at all; Lev in particular doesn't seem unhappy about that. 

For the next game, Christine moves Asher and Marlo to the same team, and puts Sasha on the other team.

Even so, nobody else is going to touch the ball for very long; nobody on the other team can take it from them and nobody on their team wants to. 

The first time Marlo gets close to Sasha Asher knocks him flat. 

"Oops."

"I wasn't going to tackle him," he says, quietly, "he's tiny." 

He gets himself off the ground and keeps playing, as if it hadn't happened. 

"Good."

Sports are a horrifying torment from the fifth circle of hell and he wants to die.

By the end of the session he has kind of sort of figured out how to throw a football and has no head injuries, which makes this solidly better than bullfighting but still not as good as soccer. 

Asher is grinning on the way to lunch. 

"Maybe ex-gay camp won't be so bad after all."

"I'm holding off on saying things like that until we've had a whole week of it. But maybe." 

"Dancing's better." To illustrate this point he does a tour de force. 

"How do you have energy."

"He's an aspiring professional athlete — dance is a performing art but it is also a sport, things can be more than one thing at once." 

"I usually dance six hours a day, and I was doing more before I went here because they won't let me dance here."

"Can you teach me to like sports."

"I think... you first have to be in any shape at all? Maybe try Pilates? --Is Pilates considered to be gay."