The News Herald (Willoughby, OH)
To assess strength in HS sports, delve deeper
There is a park near my house my 8-year-old daughter and I have enjoyed over the years.
She likes to take fallen leaves and toss them into a runoff in that park.
She’s enamored as a leaf gathers momentum in the current, sometimes impeded on rocks or the shore but finding a way and powering downstream.
I am often reminded of the broader metaphor that scene provides.
Last week marked the annual Twitter campaign “#BellLetsTalk”, a wonderful Canadian mental health awareness initiative.
It’s important to note how much of a scourge mental health stigma continues to be. Even today, mental health struggle is still sadly perceived as a weakness.
In a high school sports sense, we probably miss the mark with how strength is quantified, particularly as student-athletes are denied opportunity during a pandemic.
Sure, it’s measured by physical ability.
Or fortitude in a pressure moment.
Or ability to overcome adversity.
Or being more efficient in the realm of competition.
But quantifying strength purely through athletic prowess means we’re not delving deep enough.
There is a strength — and bravery — in admitting there is a limit.
Stress has never been more prevalent — to find the winning formula, to please a community, to garner college attention.
It’s not just the physical aspect adhering to the grind of your craft hour after hour, year after year.
That stress takes a mental health toll as well.
There is a difference, especially at the high school level, between pushing student-athletes to find their optimal best and past their breaking point.
It’s not uncommon to find student-athletes who are great at their given sport. They’re highlighted in being the changing of the guard.
Then suddenly, it’s not fun for them anymore. They burn out, and the joy that sport once brought no longer does.
The quest to be great makes them hate something they once loved.
That line is difficult to ascertain, and that’s what makes coaches so adept. It takes experience, but most of them know where that line is.
But as aspiration comes further into focus, it is vital to not imply a capacity limit means a student-athlete is lesser than or too weak.
As simplistic as it sounds — as the refrain often goes during mental health awareness campaigns — there is a time when it’s OK to not be OK.
As you’ll understand, the following story will be told in generalities. But there was once a prominent area student-athlete.
As an underclassman, this standout was displaying all-time area-best talent in their sport.
Then as a senior, it wasn’t as evident as it once was.
People around the sport wondered, “What’s wrong?” Theories abounded. But the truth was, it had nothing to do with performance.
This student-athlete had endured a personal tragedy, and it had a profound effect.
Suddenly, sports wasn’t as important.
The strength in this instance was not so much anything that occurred within competition — although that facet was laudable, too.
It was found in the fact the student-athlete had shifted priorities and displayed strength in doing so — and that was perfectly acceptable.
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 7.1% of children 3-17, or 4.4 million, have been diagnosed with anxiety. In that same age range, 3.2%, or 1.9 million, have been diagnosed with depression. Children aged 6-17 “ever having been diagnosed with either anxiety or depression” rose from 5.4% in 2003 to 8.4% in 2012.
The National Alliance on Mental Illness estimates 50% of lifetime mental illness begins by 14.
Pressure pushed past limit often leads to contemplation about life value, in some cases to the point of believing harm or deep pessimism is justified.
It is vital to make sure young people know there is strength in speaking up when necessary and emphasizing, “Enough is enough.”
It is vital to step back — for a pause or even entirely — because mental health means more than athletic prowess.
It is vital to acknowledge struggle out loud, accept support and not be boxed in as abnormal.
Fighting mental health stigma, in high school sports amid my work and elsewhere, is deeply personal.
I’ve often lauded my upbringing back home in Painesville and at Harvey in this space because of the manner in which it molded me to be a more well-rounded adult.
But it wasn’t always perfect.
As a teenager, in my darkest moments of personal anxiety, I contemplated suicide.
Thankfully, it never went beyond contemplation — and life got better and further filled with purpose over time.
Those dark days of contemplation have long since passed. Because no one would be better served without me.
In this job, criticism is at times justified. But there are also times being immersed in high school sports when it can go too far and admittedly strain my mental health.
Two years ago as an example, a soccer parent felt compelled to repeatedly demean me personally. Not liking approach or work is one thing, and that’s an opinion to which anyone is entitled.
But by the time the episode was over, this person felt it necessary to express their strictly patterned viewpoint through two deleted Twitter accounts and in-person heckling.
As a match was kicking off one night, the person yelled across a stadium, “Hey Chris, I have a seat over here for your massive ego.”
People who later heard the story were right that it’s largely irrelevant because of anonymity. But of course it registers. How could it not?
As a result of developing a thick skin with life experience, though, you prevail — and I did here by eventually shutting the person down through direct interaction and accountability.
My journey is not the point, however. It merely affords framing to help others.
Because you are not alone.
To whatever extent it reaches, depression, anxiety or any mental health struggle matters.
Feel empowered to speak your truth, without reservation.
The aspect of contemplation amid mental health adversity that never wanes is questioning self-worth. Every single day.
With experience, you learn there is strength in perseverance, in admitting when you must that you’re not OK, that you need help and you need others. From there, you find your way forward on your own terms.
You can’t do it in a vacuum.
It needs to be stated out loud — without fear of ridicule or others believing not being OK implies you’re not strong.
In the persistent quest to be great in high school sports — contend for a state championship, vie for a college scholarship or generally succeed — we have to remember what strength is.
It’s not always measured in time, distance, speed or statistics.
It can also be measured in knowing limits.
That’s why it’s so important when “#BellLetsTalk” happens.
When prominent athletes such as Kevin Love speak up about their own mental health struggle.
And when you see a metaphor that speaks well to life.
Like those leaves in the runoff my daughter enjoys watching so much, you keep plugging away in the current.
There are going to be times when you get stuck and need help.
It’s OK to accept that assistance.
When you persevere, you find your way forward.
And the current moves you along, defined by what strength truly means, unabashed and in its purest form.