Definition: In this task, you are given a text of many news articles seperated by special token "|||||". Your task is to summarize them.
Input: The market for aging, modestly skilled centers is not exactly robust in the National Basketball Association. That was true more than two months ago, when Jason Collins was celebrated as the first openly gay male athlete still active in a major American team sport. And it is true now. 
  
 It was at the end of April that Collins, his season with the Washington Wizards having ended, first disclosed that he was gay, seemingly shattering a barrier in professional sports. 
  
 Now, a week into the N.B.A.’s summer signing period, he remains without a new team, and it could be weeks or even several months before he knows what his future holds. As he waits, he finds himself in a historic position as the first openly gay free agent seeking another contract. It is a moment being watched closely for its perceived sociological significance, although Collins himself is determined to keep his focus on basketball. 
  
 “I look at it, honestly, like any other free agency in the past several years, where I know I have to stay patient,” said the 34-year-old Collins, who played in only 38 games last season, averaging 10 minutes a game as a defensive-minded center for Boston and later Washington. “And I know that at this point in my career, you remain hopeful that there’s a job and an opportunity waiting for you once teams start to fill out their rosters.” 
  
 Actually, as free agency went into effect on July 1, Collins found himself engaged in the same obsessive pastime as nearly every other N.B.A. player, coach, executive and fan: wondering what Dwight Howard would do. 
  
 Howard, a notoriously indecisive star, was weighing offers from five teams in an anxiety-inducing drama that stifled the free-agent market for days and kept lower-tier players like Collins waiting for Howard to make up his mind. 
  
 “Just like the whole country,” Collins, chuckling, said in a telephone interview late last week. 
  
 A short time later, Howard announced his intention to leave the Los Angeles Lakers and sign with the Houston Rockets, jolting the rest of the market to life and sowing the seeds for whatever may eventually come Collins’s way. 
  
 Unlike Howard, Collins is not a superstar. Nor, at this stage of his career, is he even a coveted rotation player. His age works against him. He has not been a full-time starter in six years. His skills, modest even at his peak, are in decline. Indeed, his prospects were uneven before he disclosed his sexuality in a cover story in Sports Illustrated. 
  
 So neither Collins nor his longtime agent, Arn Tellem, know what to expect this summer. 
  
 Despite his limitations on the court, Collins is widely respected for his intelligence, loyalty and strong work ethic, which are accompanied by a wicked sense of humor. Those traits make him the sort of prototypical locker-room leader that teams often seek in a 14th or 15th man. Such players practice hard, dispense wisdom to younger teammates and help keep everyone on track. In a pinch, they can contribute on the court. 
  
 These lower-tier spots on a roster are generally not filled until late July or August, after the superstars, the second-tier stars and the top role players have all found new homes. Collins knows the drill well. Boston did not sign him until July 31 last year. In 2009, it took until Sept. 2 before the Atlanta Hawks gave him a one-year deal. 
  
 Regardless, Tellem said he was “cautiously optimistic” that Collins would be on a roster by opening night. Tellem has represented both Jason and his twin brother, Jarron, since the two entered the league in 2001, and they all refer to each other as family. 
  
 “Obviously, I feel the pressure to do my very best for him, which I always do,” Tellem said. “But even more so now.” 
  
 From Collins’s standpoint, the disclosure of his sexuality was an act of personal fulfillment first, but he says he appreciates the broader significance of this moment. When he signs his next contract — assuming there eventually is one — it will be hailed as another step forward for society, a sign that gays can find acceptance even in the macho culture of an N.B.A. locker room. If he goes unsigned, no matter the reasons — and those reasons might never fully be known — it could be interpreted as a setback for gays in general. ||||| The NBA player shocked the world last spring when he became the first man active in pro sports to come out as gay. No one was more surprised than Carolyn Moos, his former fiancée. In a Cosmo exclusive, Moos tells her side of the story. 
  
 A MONTH BEFORE I was set to marry the man I loved, he called off the wedding. I had no idea why. He and I had been together for eight years. We had planned to have children, build a family. Nearly four years later, I got my answer. My former fiancé, Jason Collins, a pro basketball player with the Washington Wizards, announced last spring in Sports Illustrated that he is gay. 
  
 Jason told me he's gay over the phone on a Monday morning in April, the same day the magazine hit newsstands. However, he didn't mention the articlethat came as a surprise when I heard about it from a friend. In his essay, Jason wrote that he'd once been engaged to a woman. Reporters zoomed in on me, thrusting my name into the news. My in-box exploded with e-mails from women saying the same thing had happened to them. I'm sharing what I've learned from my experience in hopes that it might help others. 
  
 The day Jason canceled the wedding was surreal. It was July of 2009, and he had just returned home from a road trip with his twin brother, Jarron. I had been living with Jason in Los Angeles for the previous year, ever since our engagement. He told me, "You may want to sit down." I loved this man deeply. He was intelligent, good-humored, handsome, and importantly, taller than I am7 feet. (I'm 6 feet 5 and a former pro basketball player myself.) His words didn't make sense to me, and they hit me hard, freezing my heart. "I'm just not sure," he said. There were no tangible reasons, no explanations. 
  
 I opened the front door and ran, my mind spinning with questions. I wanted answers. I'm an analytical person, a planner. I make things work. I wanted to know what was wrong so I could fix it. I thought perhaps something was wrong with me. I kept running until I ran out of breath. When I returned, he tried to calm me, but I couldn't stop crying. 
  
 The first time I laid eyes on Jason, I had been running as well. It was the fall of 1997, the first day of my freshman year at Stanford University. I had just gone out for a jog when I ran smack into Jason and Jarrontwo towering, stunning guys. I stopped and introduced myself, thrilled to meet people who were actually taller than I am. I was attracted to Jason but shy. We had a brief chat, and I kept running. I called my mom that night and said, "I think I'm going to be at home at StanfordI feel normal, like I fit in." 
  
 I hadn't exactly been "normal" growing up in Minneapolis. For one thing, I had rocketed to 6 feet tall by sixth grade. I embraced my height, learning everything from hockey to ballet; I was both a tomboy and a girlie girl. When I discovered basketball, I truly found myself. I loved the rhythm, the artistry of the game. It was like dancing on the court. I excelled, winning a gold medal in the Junior Olympics, and college recruiters came calling. I chose Stanford because academics were as important to me as athletics. |||||
Output:
When Jason Collins came out as gay in April, he mentioned having once been engaged to a woman. That woman is Carolyn Moos, herself a former pro basketball player, and today in Cosmopolitan she tells her side of the story. She recalls being immediately attracted to Collins when she met him at Stanford University, particularly pleased that he, at 7 feet, stood taller than her 6-feet-5-inches. But they didn't start dating until after college, and their basketball schedules made it difficult for them to spend much time together during the season. Even so, "we understood each other in a way that others couldn't," Moos writes, recalling one instance when Collins told her she was his "soul mate" and "meant for him." Finally, after seven years together, Collins proposed in 2008 and they moved in together and started talking about their future family. Then, a year later and just a month before the wedding, he called it off. He offered "no tangible reasons, no explanations" for ending the relationship, Moos writes. Four years later, she finally understood why, when Collins called her to come out as gay. It was the same day his coming-out article appeared, though he didn't mention that to her. Though she empathizes with Collins, Moos says she's still "deeply hurt by him" and his failure to be honest with her earlier. "He's being hailed as a pioneer, but I believe true heroism is a result of being honest with yourself and with those you love." (Meanwhile, with the NBA's summer signing period having started a week ago, Collins still doesn't have a new team, the New York Times reports.)