Royce White, forward for the
Sacramento Kings, has scored exactly 0.0 points per game in his NBA career, and
yet when it comes to one key issue, he could be the league’s most important
player. White finally logged his first
minute on the hardwood last week in a blowout loss to the Spurs, registering no
stat line. It was a profound personal victory,
finally taking the court 631 days after first being drafted in 2012 by the
Houston Rockets #16 overall. In
basketball terms, it was an inconsequential blip on an utter failure of a
career (Rockets GM Daryl Morey called him “The worst first round draft pick
ever,”) but it’s impact to professional sports and even society is tremendous
because of Royce White’s public and contentious battle with mental illness.
When he was a sprouting
10-year old baller, White suffered the first signs of serious anxiety, and during
his 2-year stint in college he was diagnosed as generalized anxiety disorder, obsessive-compulsive
disorder, and acute panic attacks. One
of his main anxiety triggers is a fear of flying, complicating the proposition
of playing professional basketball because of its arduous travel demands -
about 98 flights per year, not including playoffs.
For the most part, he was
able to mask his mental health issues during college, to suffer through 20
plane rides for the college basketball season, but there were issues of stolen
laptops and shoplifting (though we don’t know if that was due to the illness or
just being another knucklehead kid, like many of us are.) He played one season at the University of
Minnesota before departing voluntarily, then enrolled at Iowa State after
sitting out the requisite 2 semesters. At
ISU he demonstrated his undeniable basketball talents and physical prowess,
averaging 13.4 points and 9.3 rebounds, earning national recognition and multiple
awards.
The Rockets drafted the 6’8”
rebounding machine with an eye on his production, despite concerns about his
erratic past and short college career (which almost every NBA draftee has these
days.) But White never made training
camp, embroiled in a battle of miscommunications with the Rockets front office
over the details of his condition. White
wanted a medical point person to be assigned to him to ease the burden of his
illness, and asked the Rockets if he could purchase a specially designed bus to
help him travel between cities so he wouldn’t have to fly. It never worked out and he was instead sent
down to Houston’s D-League affiliate, the Rio Grande Valley Vipers, where he
averaged 11.4 points, 5.7 rebounds and 3.3 assists in 16 games last season.
He was traded to Philadelphia
in the off season and publically criticized the Rockets, the league, and David
Stern, then acting commissioner, saying they didn’t want to deal with the
problem of mental illness so they hoped he just “went away.” White’s basis for requesting special measures
to help deal with his condition fell under the Americans With Disabilities Act,
a Federal law which requires employers to provide “reasonable accommodations,”
to employees with physical or mental impairments. The ADA is infrequently applied to cases of
mental illness, so psychiatrists and medical professionals lauded his
insistence on dialogue as emboldening to other pro athletes that suffered in
silence. And if it’s socially acceptable
for your favorite basketball or baseball player to admit they have a medical
issue and deal with it in a healthy, proactive manner, then certainly why can’t
fans, young people, and the general population?
I
In fact, mental disorders
are the leading cause of disability from ages 14-55, and according to the
National Institute of Mental Health, 26.2 percent of American adults meet
criteria for a diagnosable mental disorder each year. Of those, about 18 percent have an anxiety
disorder. That’s 1 in 4 people who may
need help or could be treated for a better quality of life. For every suicide we read about, for every
kid who turns to drugs to sate their internal demons, for every school shooting
that shatters our perception of normalcy, there’s a mental health issue begging
to be treated.
Philadelphia cut him before
the season and he didn’t play until the Kings took a chance on him. Out of playoff contention and nothing to lose
by gambling on a talented, but enigmatic young player they could get for almost
nothing, they signed him to two 10-day contracts. He first played for their D-League (Developmental
League) affiliate, the Reno Bighorns.
The Kings liked what they saw so they signed him for the rest of the
season.
“This whole process
between Royce and the Sacramento Kings is about him as a basketball
player,” coach Mike Malone told the Sacramento Bee. “He did everything that we
asked him to do up in Reno. He’s been tremendous while he’s been in Sacramento.
No problems at all. No worries from our standpoint as a coaching staff. We’re
going to expect him to do what everybody else is expected to do. Show up on
time, work hard, pay attention, be disciplined and buy in to what we’re trying
to do. He appears to be ready, willing and able to do that.”
So far - a few
practices and one minute of one NBA game in - it’s been a healthy marriage.
“Had a great time at
my first full practice with the Sacramento Kings,” White tweeted. “Great guys!
I’m excited and appreciative to be working here.”
White insists his main focus
is still on playing basketball for the love of the game but he’s still been an
outspoken advocate for mental health awareness and treatment - his mere
presence on the court, or a team’s roster, forces that organization, and the
NBA, to deal with it.
“If I was an NBA
player now without the protocols and safety measures,” he said, “I would be
risking my health, risking my life. What comes along with mental health if left
untreated? Alcohol abuse, marijuana abuse, suicidal behavior, homicidal
behavior, those are things I’m not willing to risk to play basketball, to have
money, to have fame. That’s it.”
White holds no grudges or
points blame at the Houston Rockets for the alleged mishandling of his
condition, but it’s apparent they weren't ready for it. How could they be? The league has hundreds of pages of documents
and memos, policies and procedures, how to handle a player with a broken leg,
back spasms, or even who gets arrested for drunk driving, but very little in
place to diagnose or facilitate treatment for players with mental health
issues.
The personal,
nebulous, and often unseen nature of mental health problems make them difficult
to properly diagnose and treat, but there’s also a stigma in our society that’s
counterproductive. This is especially
true for men, and magnified ad infinitum for professional athletes who are supposed
to be big, tough wrecking balls devoid of emotions - reserved for the weak and
soft. In a game where your
perception as a team player and a “gamer” versus a malcontent can earn – or lose
– you millions of dollars on your next contract, 7-foot centers and 300 lbs.
lineman rarely want to admit they even have emotions, yet along mental health
issues.
Yet pro athletes are under
unimaginable pressure and suffer from a sense of isolation because of their stature,
sometimes from a young age. Often, their
fear of abandonment, anxiety, self esteem issues or inability to deal with
anger or loss translates to a better young athlete, as their only channel is to
play sports. Their only reprieve from
personal hell is sometimes the heaven of practice, when the mind is ‘shut off’
and physical instincts take over.
Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf, a now-retired
NBA player who had great success with Denver, Vancouver, and even these
Sacramento Kings over a 11 year career, suffered from Tourette’s syndrome,
which isn’t a mental health condition but a neurological illness, but is often
accompanies by OCD-like tics and tendencies.
As a poor child in Louisiana (Chris Jackson then, before changing his
name years later,) the basketball court was as his only outlet of relief. Out there, the repetition and perfection OCD
demanded were rewarded. He recalls
shooting baskets and not physically being able to leave the court until he
swished 20 shots in a row, or hit 100 free throws in a row. If he even hit rim on one of them he’d have
to start from scratch – not a choice, but an irrational compulsion. The end result was a hell of a basketball
player but a human being left in torment, serially under-treated for his
condition.
So, too we see NFL players
suffering the effects of mental illness, especially depression, often after
it’s too late. Alcohol abuse, addiction
to paint killers, bipolar disorders, domestic abuse, suicides, and the
ever-concerning evidence of concussions causing brain injuries is a massive
elephant in the pro football room.
Tony Dorsett’s tragic case of
post concussion syndrome has been highly publicized, and Terry Bradshaw, the
enigmatic Pittsburgh quarterback and now TV analyst, suffers from severe depression
and memory loss from his playing days. His
teammate, Mike Webster, died of complications from CTE, a degenerative
condition previously associated with boxers that cursed him with a painful existence
of severe depression and bipolar disorder.
Just this season, the Miami Dolphin’s Jonathan Martin exposed a scandal
of physical intimidation, extortion, and harassment before leaving the team
with emotional distress. Richie
Incognito, by all accounts his tormenter, now acknowledges he’s got serious mental
health issues and is seeking treatment.
Go down the long list of NFL
arrests and infractions and a disturbing number have undiagnosed or untreated
mental health problems as their root – from Jovan Blecher, who shot his girlfriend and then himself last offseason, to Ricky William’s
well-chronicled battle with social anxiety disorder, to Junior Seau, the bright and shining
superstar with the San Diego Chargers who took his own life less than a year
after his career ended. His suicide
shocked the NFL world and sparked an open dialogue about the emotional and mental
problems player’s face.
Chicago Bears wide receiver
Brandon Marshall, who suffers from social anxiety disorder, summed it up in a
heartfelt op-ed piece for the Chicago Sun-Times, stating that he believes
treatment would have saved Seau’s life.
"There are many people
out there who are suffering and have nowhere to turn for help,” wrote Marshall,
“or are afraid because of the stigmas placed on mental health.”
A recent study by the
University of Texas found that the acute and physical manifestation of symptoms
of mental illness were much more likely in football players as they got older
because of concussions, each a minor brain injury by definition. The NFL has been accused of sweeping the
medical data about concussions, brain injuries and mental illness under the
rug, and last August agreed to pay more than $765 million to settle
concussion-related suits by about 4,500 former players, though they admitted no
wrong.
Whether it’s from hits to
the head, childhood trauma, or the pressure cooker of emotional demands on a
young athlete, disorders of depression, anxiety, bipolar, and OCD behavior are exponentially
higher in professional sports – yet still rarely acknowledged or treated
openly. The NBA has plenty of its own
documented cases - GIlbert Arenas, once a superstar for the Washington Bullets, fell from basketball grace due to crippling depression. Paul Stiemsma, a little-used 26-year old center with the
Celtics and now the Timberwolves, has suffered from medically diagnosed
depression since his college playing days and publically advocates for mental
health.
But there’s no greater
testament to the call for mental health awareness in the NBA than it’s patron
saint, Jerry West, himself. The man whose
silhouette adorns the NBA logo is on record as suffering from severe depression
his whole life. He grew up in a terribly
abusive household and his relentless pursuit of perfection on the court was
just an offshoot of mental illness issues engrained by the trauma. He went public with his lifelong battle and
the dark places it’s taken him, despite his family’s reservations.
Very soon, Royce White will
score a point in the NBA. And then, a
lot of points. He’ll grab more than a few rebounds and hopefully become a major
contributor for the Sacramento Kings, maybe even by the time your read this
article. Of course we hope he’s
remembered for his impact as a basketball player, not defined by the medical
issues he’s living. But for now, at exactly
0.0 points per game - persona-non-grata in the NBA record books - he stands at
perhaps the prefect point for us to recognize his mission of awareness and
treatment of mental health, in the league and in our society. To those tens of millions of Americans who suffer
in silence, who seek a candle of relief not just from the darkness of their
illness but from the stigma it beholds, Royce White remains the most important
player in the game. For that, let us
stand up and applaud.
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