The Human Behind the Athlete

I answered the phone to the sound of the outdoors—a calm but welcoming voice on the other line. “The Pacific Northwest grass is different than in Miami,” NBA star Kevin Love said, speaking from his parents’ home days after the Miami Heat lost to the Cavaliers in Game 1 of their playoff series—a game Kevin sat out for personal reasons.

I asked him to paint a picture of the human behind the Kevin Love Fund (KLF)'s newly announced Athlete Mental Health Program, a project poised to impact more lives than his NBA career ever could. Kevin described himself bundled in a hoodie and sweatpants despite the Oregon sun. Shoes and socks off, he laughed. These weren’t his usual interview questions.

The Kevin Love Fund Story

I told Kevin I wanted to focus on the stories behind the KLF and Athlete Mental Health Program's creation—the moments that led him here. While his story’s been shared before, he returned to themes of unpacking expectations and trauma.

“I felt like I had to hide. I had to go into myself and try to compartmentalize. I asked myself, am I going to be exposed? Are people going to find things out about me that I’m not ready to tell?”

In March 2018, Kevin published a first-person essay—Everyone Is Going Through Something—recounting his panic attack and mental health journey. The response was overwhelming. Readers opened up, sharing their own struggles. That moment revealed something bigger at stake.

Inspired, Kevin founded KLF, a nonprofit built on the belief that education is most powerful when it models vulnerability. Healing, he believes, begins when people are empowered to find identity beyond sport.

KLF now transforms how we understand and talk about mental health—especially in athletics. Through storytelling, education, and evidence-based tools, KLF helps athletes and communities navigate both the high-pressure world of sport and the often-overlooked transition beyond it.

The Athlete Mental Health Program Story

On May 1, 2025, the KLF launches a free, evidence-based mental health program for athletes to foster identity beyond sport. The Athlete Mental Health Program includes lessons on identity development, tools for performance anxiety and stress, and creating conversations around mental and emotional well-being in sports. Built with input from sport psychologists, educators, and former athletes, it equips coaches and broader sports communities to support the whole person—not just the competitor.

The KLF Athlete Mental Health Program is grounded in over a decade of research on reciprocal vulnerability—the idea that when adults model emotional openness, youth are more likely to engage in meaningful mental health conversations (Dutro, 2009; 2011; 2019; Foster, 2023).

The Athlete Mental Health Program is now freely available to educators, coaches, trainers, and anyone supporting student-athletes. For more information or to access the curriculum, visit: https://kevinlovefund.org/

A Story About Success

When I asked Kevin to share a story that reflects the Fund’s success, he hesitated, deferring to his publicist for the “numbers.” But then he smiled.

He recalled the 2018 article: “If I could help even one child managing the same expectations I had at 13 or 14, it would be worth it.” KLF continues to honor that vision—ensuring no athlete feels alone in their mental health struggles the way he once did.

The publicist later shared the numbers: KLF’s SEL curriculum has reached over 130,000 students and 1,900 educators across 1,200+ schools and programs in 32 states and 19 countries.

A Story About Regret

When I asked Kevin to share a story about regret, he didn’t flinch.

“There are things I’ve said or done that I’d take back,” he said. But more often, regret stemmed from what he didn’t do.

He recalled a teacher who once urged him to take a different path. Years later, he wrote that teacher a letter—acknowledging the truth in their advice.

“My regret is that I didn’t act sooner to help myself heal. Whether because I was young, shaped by a hypermasculine culture, or raised by a father born in 1949 who didn’t know another way. Vulnerability wasn’t modeled—it was avoided.”

He reflected on the generational silence around emotion. “I wish I’d been comfortable enough in my skin to realize vulnerability could be a superpower.”

A Story About Being on the Right Path

Kevin said he knew he was on the right path once his story was accepted—celebrated, even.

He paused on the word “celebrated,” aware of its weight. “I’m a product of sharing my story—just like DeMar DeRozan was. It’s healthy to celebrate people who take a chance for the greater good.”

One moment sealed it. At games, kids started holding signs—not about basketball, but mental health. Kevin asked security to bring those families to him. “I’d ask, How did you get here? Why did you make the sign?” And the stories he heard—stories of resilience and shared pain—shifted something in him.

“That’s when I knew this was bigger than basketball. It changed the trajectory of my life.”

An Untold Story

“This whole process—expressing some, not all (yet), of my mental health struggles—has made me more comfortable in my own skin,” Kevin said.

He told a lesser-known story from his early days with his now-wife. His social anxiety was so severe, he couldn’t go out—not even to dinner. “My wife can tell you—when we first started dating, I couldn’t go to a restaurant.”

It wasn’t just discomfort. It was agoraphobia—fear of public embarrassment or collapse. “At any moment, I could fall apart disproportionately to the situation.”

His world shrank: gym, then home—places he could control. But over time, he did the work.

“I’m flawed. I’m still working on it. I’m not a finished project. But I’m more settled now. I’m human. Just a guy—not just an athlete.”

That acceptance, he said, lets him engage in life in ways that once felt out of reach.

A Story (Almost) Told Too Late

I didn’t ask what he’d tell his 13-year-old self—he offered it anyway.

“Nothing haunts us like the things we don’t say. I wish I’d spoken my truth sooner. I let things get to a place that felt life-threatening.”

Silence nearly cost him everything. But breaking it? It opened doors—for himself and others. “Speaking up helped me see red flags before spiraling. Vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s often the first step to saving a life.”

The Final Story

At the start of the interview, I told Kevin I wanted to reveal the human behind the KLF Athlete Mental Health Fund. I wanted to move beyond the headlines and game highlights. And I did.

But what lingered most wasn’t just the curriculum, or the program reach, or the quotes.

It was the image of Kevin barefoot in his parents’ Oregon yard—finding peace. Not as an NBA champion. Not as a mental health advocate. Just a guy who’s still doing the work, showing up, and reminding the world:

“Athletics can be a defining part of life—but it should not define your entire identity.”

Shortly after the interview, Kevin's beloved father, Stan Love, passed away at the age of 76. May he rest in peace.