Athletes and the struggle to talk openly about mental health

What does Naomi Osaka’s decision to forgo press requirements tell us about the relationship between sport and mental health?

Photo by Serena Repice Lentini on Unsplash

As the curtain falls on the 2021 French Open, the likelihood that the tournament will be remembered for its two champions and five-set thrillers looks slim to none. Instead, this year’s tournament will forever be marked by Naomi Osaka’s dramatic and shocking withdrawal from the competition, which she announced in an emotional message penned to the world on social media: “Hey everyone, this isn’t a situation I ever imagined or intended when I posted a few days ago. I think now the best thing for the other players and my wellbeing is that I withdraw so that everyone can get to focusing on the tennis going on in Paris.” The catalyst for Osaka’s decision was born from a previous statement in which she announced she would forgo any form of press or media interviews during the tournament. The player, ranked number two in the world in women’s tennis, cited her mental health as the principle reason for her decision, describing the self-doubt and insecurity she oftentimes experiences when speaking to journalists and interviewers.

Unsurprisingly, Osaka’s decision to turn down press requirements and ultimately withdraw from the tournament, sent seismic shockwaves across the internet. Op-eds graced the front page of popular online newspapers like the New York Times, the Guardian, and the Washington Post, all of whom applauded Osaka for her courage to speak publicly about her struggles with anxiety and depression. Celebrities from other fields echoed similar sentiments, with outpourings of support coming from actors and singers as well as fellow athletes, like Serena Williams and Stephen Curry. Others, however, were less sympathetic. Piers Morgan, the former host of Good Morning Britain, wrote a scathing article for the Daily Mail in which he referred to Osaka as “narcissistic” and “petulant”, claiming she was capitalising on mental health to preclude any risk of media scrutiny. While the president of the French Tennis Federation, Gilles Moretton, was less explicit in his condemnation of Osaka, his response was terse and unfeeling: “The outcome of Naomi withdrawing from Roland Garros is unfortunate.” Following his statement at the press conference, Moretton refused to answer any questions. It’s safe to say the irony wasn’t lost on anyone.

As Osaka quickly became embroiled in what can only be described as a deeply messy and convoluted media storm, a host of questions emerged that shed light on the precarious relationship between athletes and the media. But what was perhaps most striking was Osaka’s brutal honesty and candor regarding her struggles with anxiety and depression. Not only did her announcement shine a light on the taboo that still exists around mental health within tennis, but more broadly, within sport.

So, why do so few athletes speak openly about mental health? Progress has clearly been made in other entertainment industries, with topics of anxiety and depression proliferating across film and music in the last couple of years, but the world of sports seems to be lagging behind on this front. This isn’t to say that discussions surrounding mental disorders have never been raised amongst athletes. Michael Phelps, the 23-time olympic swimming champion, famously opened up about suffering from anxiety and depression in 2018, while the gold-winning gymnast, Aly Raisman, revealed her difficulties coping with trauma and PTSD. Although these athletes’ brave admissions have helped to push the envelope in terms of promoting discourse surrounding mental disorders in sport, their statements have received widespread media attention arguably because similar revelations from athletes are so rare. It’s important to note that an athlete’s — or any person’s — decision to disclose their experience with mental health should be of their own volition, and that if one chooses not to divulge their struggles, their bravery isn’t lesser than that of those who are public with their suffering. However, it does seem that the stigma enveloping the world of sports is more prominent compared to other industries.

Just as much as one’s physical prowess is valued on the pitch or on the court, their mental strength is equally, if not even more, important. “Concentration and mental toughness are the margins of victory”, suggested Bill Russell, the former basketball player and NBA champion. Fans of basketball, or even sport, will know that Russell isn’t wrong. An athlete’s ability to navigate high pressure moments is perhaps their most crucial asset, and one that’s tested more often than not. Whether it’s taking a penalty kick, performing the final dismount on the beam, or completing the final lap of a 5000-metre race, maintaining a sense of composure and calmness is often what separates champions from the rest of the field.

But what kind of message does this send to athletes? If mental strength is a defining trait of a champion, what happens when an athlete’s struggle with anxiety and depression disrupts their path to victory? Much like in our everyday lives, mental health in sport is still viewed as a sign of weakness, whether it be character-related or to do with one’s athletic abilities. Oftentimes, any sign of mental instability is equated with frailty. If there were any doubts surrounding this phenomena, a quick scroll through the comments of press conferences delivered by players admitting to their struggle with mental health will reveal the hostile and aggressive insults consistently hurled by spectators who mock their suffering. 

Not only does this create a culture of shame and embarrassment within sport, but it also, as athlete Gearoid Towey notes, discourages athletes from speaking openly about mental disorders out of fear that the future of their career could be compromised. As Towey notes, one of the “chief reasons why athletes don’t disclose personal issues is because they are afraid that their selection will be impacted”. By associating anxiety and depression with weakness, athletes may feel burdened with the responsibility of concealing their struggles to protect the stability of their career and to appear stronger and more desirable to captains and coaches.

Similarly, the likability or ‘relatability’ of athletes is also, in many ways, defined by their mental and emotional wellbeing. Athletes that aren’t afraid to express their emotions are often branded as ‘hotheads’, prone to ‘meltdowns’. The demeaning language reserved for players and their ‘tantrums’ reveals a wider discomfort amongst the public towards athletes who are unfiltered and unwavering in their displays of emotion. Those who confront injustices within the sport, whether it be a poor call or an unfair warning, are usually expected to do so in a calm and measured manner; those who deviate from this expectation are said to be incapable of dealing with their emotions. Yet, while athletes are condemned for their emotional outbursts, those who bottle up their feelings and remain stone-faced while competing are regularly deemed ‘boring’ or ‘uninteresting’. Nowhere is this more apparent than in press conferences; athletes who divulge little and maintain a degree of privacy when it comes to their emotional and mental state are criticised for their apathy and lack of personality. As a result, players and competitors are arguably forced to straddle the line between suppressing their anger and frustrations, while revealing a hint of emotion so as to appear interesting. Those who fail to strike this balance are often written off as either emotionally unstable or uninspiring.

Admitting to, or showing, any emotional fragility in the world of sport is also largely discouraged by governing bodies and officials. In tennis, for example, fines worth thousands of pounds are dealt generously to players who show any sign of exasperation on the court. While figures remain ambiguous, some estimate that the cost of smashing a racket can land a fine anywhere between £350 and £3,800, while displaying despondent behavior on court can cost upwards of £45,000. Context is obviously key here. Destroying rackets and forgoing any attempt to play competitively — especially in front of a crowd of paying spectators — is unacceptable and shouldn’t be condoned. But by essentially forbidding players to express irritation, we run the risk of boxing them into an impossible mould that prevents them from communicating any emotion or feeling. Outside of the competition, athletes are expected to answer to journalists after a crushing defeat — some of whom question competitors with the intention of provocation. Despite the difficulty of appearing before the press after losing a match or tournament, athletes, much like Osaka, are fined for skipping post-match interviews. 

Perhaps this whole discussion reveals the incredibly high, and oftentimes, unattainable, standard we hold athletes to. We expect them to compete at and sustain the highest level of physical and mental strength while remaining level-headed and calm. In many ways, it’s understandable why athletes refrain from discussing any subjects related to their mental health — not only are their reputations at risk when expressing their struggles with mental disorders, but their careers, too. When taking this into consideration, the sheer bravery of Osaka’s decision is — put simply — inspiring. In speaking openly about her suffering and difficulties coping with mental health, as well as withdrawing from one of the biggest tournaments in the tennis calendar, Osaka is blazing a trail in the world of sports — one that will hopefully attract more athletes in the years to come.

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