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I'll never forget the time I heard about Gary Speed's death. I was driving back from a wonderful Sunday in Argyll, in the west of Scotland, with my wife, one-year-old son, and two close friends, one of whom (Mark) was a sports sociologist. As always, I had BBC 5-Live on the radio, updating me with all the weekend's sporting news. Somewhere along the coast of Loch Fyne, the shaky voice of the normally bubbly DJ made the shocking announcement. Gary Speed, the manager of the Welsh football (soccer) team, the most-capped outfield player for Wales and the recently-retired veteran of 23 seasons in professional soccer, most at the highest level, was dead. Early reports indicated that he had killed himself.
As the tributes poured in, I was strangely surprised at the genuine warmth and kindness expressed by Speed's friends, teammates, and fans. This might sound odd, but soccer - despite some North American misconceptions - is a hard-nosed sport, watched by die-hard fans who live and die for their club, and played traditionally by working-class men. There is an old saying that soccer is a gentleman's game played by hooligans and rugby is a hooligans game played by gentleman; while the terms hooligan and gentleman might be exaggerations, the saying still contains a good deal of truth. After all, a former captain of England's rugby team has recently married into the royal family, and if you listen to soccer call-in shows, it becomes pretty obvious that most fans aren't shy about saying what they think. The fact that people connected with soccer were so non-judgemental about Speed, who had left a wife and two sons behind, was both a poignant - and revealing - surprise.
I've thought quite a bit about Gary Speed recently because the BBC has had a series of television programs on recently about mental helath and, particularly, mental illness and sport. One, presented by Clark Carlisle, a former player and current chairman of the Professional Footballers' Association, dealt directly with the issue of suicide and soccer (http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b036x8d2); another, featured the difficulties faced by the daughter of former heavyweight champion of the world, Frank Bruno, a sufferer of bi-polar disorder http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-23196980. Professional sports stars in North America are no strangers to mental illness, either. As a Canadian, I have been touched the most by the cases of three hockey players who have committed suicide in the last few years. These three cases are incredibly sad, but they also raise interesting questions about what's causing the apparent increase in mental disorder amongst athletes and, in the most extreme cases, suicide.
I should add that I have done no statistical research about whether the rates of mental illness in professional athletes are any higher than people working in other professions. But, to a degree, even if the rates were much lower, they would still be worth investigating. After all, professional athletes are wealthy, famous, and, to their fans at least, heroes. What could be better?
Well, let's briefly examine the cases of Wade Belak, Rick Rypien, and Derek Boogaard. All were what, in hockey terms, we'd refer to as "enforcers," 4th line players who essentially came on to the ice for a few minutes to get in a fight with the enforcer from the other team. Not the most glamorous role for athletes who would have been the best player in every team they played for until they reached the NHL. Plus, being enforcers, they received just as many bare-knuckled fists to the head as they dished out. This has raised speculation that these blows to the head triggered post-concussion-like symptoms that might have led to neurological problems, a point also raised in the Frank Bruno documentary. The use of powerful pain killers has also been indicted, along with a host of other personal, professional, and other problems, including hereditary predisposition to depression and the gloom that kicks in when one realizes that one's career as an athlete is just about over. In other words, mental illness is just as complicated in athletes, as it is in the rest of us. Only a little more so.
Of course, all this still raises the most basic historical question: was it ever thus? Maybe sports stars have always suffered from mental health problems, but such cases are simply more high profile now. Or maybe not. The point is that we don't really know, and I'd like to find out. Why? Well, it kind of boils down to the fact that for me, and millions like me, being a professional athlete was my ultimate dream as a kid. The best career I could possibly have imagined. And yet, today, when they are better paid and more famous than ever before, many sport stars still suffer from mental illness and, like Gary Speed, take their own lives when everything seems to be going perfectly. Perhaps, as I suggested earlier, such people simply represent the unlucky segment of society who are genetically predisposed to mental illness.
Or, and I think this is more likely, maybe athletes who fall victim to depression, bi-polar disorder, and other disorders provide us with a unique lens through which to understand mental illness itself. Maybe their cases can show how mental health problems are often the combination of a great number of factors: genetic, organic, social, psychological - and that to solve them, we need to take a more creative, pluralistic approach.
In order to answer these questions, I plan to join forces with Mark, my sociologist friend, and tackle the problem head on. It might take some time, but I think it is a project worth the effort, we'll give it 110% at least.
