Golfer thankful for honest mental health conversations
Three days before Bubba Watson’s father, Gerry, died from throat cancer in 2010, the golfer handbathed the former Green Beret and Vietnam veteran who had withered from roughly 185 pounds to 92.
The man vanishing in front of him had offered understated, unwavering support as Watson’s career gained wins and wings. His dad routinely leaned against trees with a cigarette in one hand and a Styrofoam cup of beer in the other — always there, in his own way.
The wrenching image now in front of him seeded dark thoughts that pushed the two-time Masters winner to the brink.
“I watched his body change,” he said.
Watson has much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. He’s won 12 PGA Tour events. He has a loving wife and two healthy children. He’s financially secure.
There’s no neat, tidy holiday bow, though, to wrap around his life.
Standing in the bathroom of his Pensacola, Fla., home in 2017, Watson trembled as the scale showed he weighed 162. He had lost nearly
30 pounds in a year, without understanding how or why. He fell to his knees in an adjacent bedroom, pleading through tears for God to help him steady a life seemingly spiraling out of control.
He thought of his father's frightful final days.
“Now you flip to me, I could see changes in myself,” Watson said in a recent interview. “My mind raced, like some people's minds do sometimes. I flashed back to my dad, `Do I have cancer?' And I had stomach pain, `Am I having a heart attack?'
“Something was wrong. Come to find out, it wasn't physical.”
That jarring scene launched a mental health fight that continues to this day.
Watson, the 2011 winner of the Farmers Insurance Open, has chronicled the demons beyond the divots in his book “Up & Down, Victories and Struggles in the Course of Life.”
Day by day, Watson is thankful for finding footing … and his way.
Watson told reporters this year that enclosed places, elevators, heights and more “trigger my mental issues.” Bottling up the snarl stifled understanding and addressing the daunting, unsettling challenges.
“I remember saying, `Lord, just take me,' “said Watson, 43. “Not that I wanted to end my life, but I didn't want my wife to watch me suffer or go through it or have my kids see it.”
Sharing the reality of mental health struggles among big-name athletes slowly has evolved from taboo or a potential sign of weakness to real, relatable insight and awareness.
Naomi Osaka, Simone Biles, Matthew Wolff and, most recently, NFL wide receiver Calvin Ridley, began blazing a more public and often times uncomfortable trail about frailties and self-realization.
“You have to let it out,” Watson said. “This book was about me letting my thoughts get out of my head. If I don't share it with you, my wife, my friends, the world, it's going to eat me alive.
“The best medicine is sharing.” Roughly four to six months ago, Watson ran into a stranger who explained that the golfer's openness had helped them cope. Someone else deals with this. Someone very famous deals with this. If he can talk about it, I can too.
There was no photo or autograph request.
Watson did the asking. “(The person) shared stuff in their life and I almost broke down,” Watson said. “I said, `I'm probably going to cry before you do.' I asked if I could give them a hug, because sometimes, that's all it takes.”
Then, Watson shared his cell number with someone he had never met.
“I said, `Call or text any time,' “he said.
Watson is approached by those ranging from volunteers at golf tournaments to cart-chasers at grocery stores. They thank him for normalizing something that used to fester in the shadows. He's making it more and more comfortable to have conversations.
The opening chapter of the book, entitled “Rock Bottom,” details the moment he stood on that scale.
“When we mapped out that book, that wasn't the plan,” Watson said of conversations with Don Yaeger. “Then we decided, why not just go right into it and set the table of what it's all about. It's about trying to show we all have something we can work on or are dealing with.
“I consider it my darkest hour in my life so far and hopefully it will be.”
Watson chooses to spread light. “Sometimes the help is just to listen or pat someone on the back and tell them, `Keep fighting,' “he said. “I can't walk in someone's shoes, but I have an idea by going through it myself.”
Some victories have nothing to do with holding a trophy.