Like you, Sebastian Sachs watches everything teed up in his very gay queue, from high-brow, Emmy-winning series and films to decadently sweet reality shows. His only requirement is that whatever he devotes time to is inclusive. In The Moment, Sebastian deep-dives on the scene, actor, person, place or thing that fans will never get over. She is the moment. He is the moment. They are the moment. You, dear reader, are the moment.

Here’s a platitude I earnestly believe in: Everyone wants to be a winner. As children, we’re taught to graciously smile through the realization that someone just might be stronger, better and faster at the skill you so desperately practiced to perfect. Winning — at love, during your pre-work game of Wordle — is the ultimate ego boost, which is why second place never feels good enough. I’m sorry but losing is the pits. The greatest rivalries become the subject of lore because there’s always a definitive victor, someone to admire and place on a pedestal. Without a reigning supreme and the little runner-up engine that (almost) could, is there even a compelling story worth telling?

Cheer Season 2 proved that life often does imitate art. Just like the 2000 cult classic Bring It On, the docuseries positioned two vastly different squads against each other as they prepared for a national championship competition. When the series debuted in 2019, the five-letter-word title spread like wildfire and held a harder chokehold on pop culture than kinky clips on gay Twitter. Overnight, the Navarro College Bulldogs’ star athletes — not to mention the program’s fearless head coach, Monica Aldama — became celebrities. Gabi, La’Darius, Lexi, Morgan and Sherbs (poor Sherbs! I hope she’s OK) soon required no introduction. Together, they trained the GP to expect nothing but greatness from their all-star squad. Navarro was unquestionably the supreme team. However, the cheerleading program’s arc in Season 2 begs the question: Have the mighty fallen?

This column’s goal is to regularly identify one person, place, or thing that manages to both captivate and improve LGBTQ+ culture. Sure, newly introduced Cheer stars like Jeron Hazelwood and Kailee Peppers did what needed to be done for the camera. However, I can’t help but howl over the nuanced, fascinating plotline that took center stage: Navarro’s fierce, antagonistic relationship with Trinity Valley Community College, the school “45 minutes down the road” that ultimately kept Navarro from winning a 15th national championship title. 

Unlike Season 1, which largely zoomed in on Navarro’s athletes and their prowess, this season magnified how vastly different Trinity’s Cardinal cheerleaders operated under the watchful eye of head coach Vontae Johnson and his co-pilot, Khris Franklin. Though it feels simplistic to reduce the season to this, so much of the fine-tuning Trinity focused on ahead of their Daytona Beach 2021 showcase boiled down to… finesse, if you will. Whereas Navarro historically leaned into a flamboyant dance style put forth by its gay male athletes — so clearly inspired by voguing and the ballroom scene rooted in 1980s Harlem — Trinity’s choreography at first felt tragically bland, like a plate of mashed potatoes missing buckets of butter, salt and whole milk. 

Though I’m a Navarro stan, part of me unexpectedly rooted for Trinity. And that’s why the competition itself, the blood, sweat, tears, and runny mascara these athletes left on both opposing mats, grabbed my attention. To borrow from the great RuPaul, Trinity’s competitors each possessed charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent — attributes ripe for TV. Take Jada Wooten, whose high-decibel screams at every practice were gripping to watch. Amber Rice (“the Simone Biles of cheerleading,” according to her mom) demonstrated stunning tumbling skills that made her instantly likable. When Trinity alumnus Jeron Hazelwood told DeVonte “Dee” Joseph to leave his toxic masculinity at the door, I knew we’d see growth. “Bring out the inner gay, OK? If you’re scared about someone saying, ‘He’s gay ‘cause he’s performing… Hey, you’re in cheerleading,” Jeron said in a confessional. Eventually, Dee got it together. 

Rooting for the underdog may not have felt so naughty had Navarro’s athletes not initially been so likable. Season 2 found the previously untouchable Bulldogs not only grappling with the downsides of fame — overbooked schedules, social media trolls — but also unfixable cracks in their tight-knit chemistry. Frustrated at the team dynamic during Monica’s brief stint on Dancing With the Stars, La’Darius Marshall quit team Navarro and embarked on several IG tirades in which he painted the program as dark and cruel. (He eventually apologized to Monica after unexpectedly showing up to support Navarro at nationals.) Even worse, Jerry Harris, a mat-talking fan favorite, was arrested for federal child pornography charges.

With one team riddled by controversy and the other seemingly desperate to snatch the prize and nothing else, who really deserved to win? By a wildly close final score of 98.0708 to 98.2292, Navarro ultimately came in second place and handed the national championship baton to Trinity. As a viewer, it didn’t matter who ultimately won the trophy. It was satisfying to watch how hard every single person on both teams fought to win. Monica held back tears after losing; Dee finally injected some pizzazz into his tumbling routine. 

Cheer Season 1 helped me and countless viewers escape the brutal reality of life amid a years-long pandemic. And Season 2 reminded me of just how much has changed — how much we’ve lost — since the series debuted in 2020. For Monica, that translates to one national title and perhaps a blurrier definition of purpose. In the season’s final episode, Monica questions the validity of her work, whether it’s worth continuing to climb this steep hill, particularly after losing to the underdog. “Every year I’m like, I can’t do it anymore. It’s too exhausting mentally. It’s too draining,” she says of coaching, explaining that a new set of athletes keeps her vigor ignited year after year. “It’ll suck you in, that dang cheerleading.” 

The dang cheerleading — and the sport’s relentless competition — is what sucked me into the world of Cheer. Excuse the platitude, but as the pandemic has taught us, it’s not about winning or losing, it’s about putting one foot ahead of the other and getting yourself to the next day. The competition — on the mat, in your head — is what makes all the tears worth it.

As Monica’s pastor (yep, I’m quoting a freakin’ pastor) says in the finale, “We can claim victory even through the difficulties.” In the words of all Navarro cheer athletes, “We can! We will! We must!” At least for one second, as the Cheer Season 2 credits rolled, I earnestly bought into their mantra. That, ladies, gentleman, and nonbinary beauties, is a moment to celebrate.