Michael Jamieson: Depression goes unrecognised in elite sport

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London 2012 Olympic silver medallist Michael Jamieson has said UK sporting bodies need to pay more attention to elite athletes’ mental health.

The 28-year-old Scot said UK Sport was run as a business with no “direct responsibility” for athlete wellbeing.

Jamieson has announced his retirement from swimming, revealing how a brutal training regime led to depression.

UK Sport said it took its duty of care to athletes “very seriously”, offering a comprehensive” package of support”.

Speaking on BBC Radio Scotland’s Kaye Adams programme, the swimmer said he thought that increasing pressure to win medals could have an impact on the mental health of many athletes.

“There’s been so much success particularly in British sport over recent years that we’ve just becoming accustomed to British athletes winning Olympic gold medals and the work and preparation that goes into that is a decade long.”

Despite the huge sacrifices many athletes make to get to the top, Jamieson said he believed more could be done to care for their wellbeing.

“Ultimately UK Sport is a business and it’s run as such. If sports are looked at as not being able to win the medals they need to justify their funding, then they’re being cut as we’ve seen recently.

“It’s terribly sad for the athletes involved that are directly affected by it.

“But it’s a tough one because UK Sport and other federations involved don’t have a direct responsibility for athlete wellbeing. It’s not really their responsibility.

“They’re there to provide a platform for athletes to win medals.”

Jamieson’s career highlight was an Olympic silver in 2012

Jamieson broke his own British record to finish second in the 200m breaststroke in the 2012 Olympics, but missed out on a medal at the 2013 World Championships after a series of shoulder injuries.

Overtraining in preparation for the 2014 Commonwealth Games led to his heart being restarted and he was beaten by compatriot Ross Murdoch in his favoured event in Glasgow.

He failed to qualify for the World Championships in 2015 and missed out on selection for the 2016 Rio Olympics.

The swimmer told BBC Scotland it was common for many elite athletes to over-analyse their day-to-day performance.
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Harbaugh, Athletes Raise Awareness for Mental Health at Mock Rock

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By Rachel Lenzi

Jim Harbaugh is a tough critic.

Not just of his football team at Michigan, but also of Michigan’s athletes. But not when they’re on the field or on the court. Instead, Harbaugh took aim at their dancing and musical talents.

Tuesday night at the University of Michigan’s Power Center for the Performing Arts, Michigan’s third-year football coach and his wife, Sarah, were judges for Michigan’s Mock Rock, an annual performance event featuring Michigan athletes that’s part lip-sync, part talent contest and part dance-off.

And the Harbaughs got interactive. They judged the Michigan hockey team’s performance, complete with glittery tights and a choreographed dance routine to Michael Jackson’s “Beat It.” Harbaugh gave the hockey team an eight out of maximum 10 points.

“Their precision was off,” Harbaugh quipped.

At one point in the night, Harbaugh got up from the judges’ table and pumped his fists to One Direction’s 2011 hit song “What Makes You Beautiful,” at the urging of a member of the Michigan women’s rowing team.

“I loved it when she came out here and danced with Jim,” Sarah Harbaugh said after the performance. “That was embarrassing.”

But Mock Rock didn’t just showcase Harbaugh. Mock Rock showcases Michigan’s athletes in an artistic realm — hockey player Cooper Marody serenaded an audience member to an acoustic ballad, while Michigan’s women’s lacrosse team performed a choreographed dance routine to a hip-hop mix that included music by Bruno Mars, DMX and House of Pain.

Furthermore, Mock Rock has a charitable impact in the Ann Arbor community. Michigan’s Student-Athlete Advisory Committee has hosted Mock Rock since 1999, and this year, Mock Rock addressed the topic of mental health. The beneficiary of this year’s event, Fresh Start Clubhouse, is an Ann Arbor-area organization that focuses on wellness recovery within a community structure, for adults who have mental illnesses, such as depression, bipolar disorder or schizophrenia.

“We help people get back to work, go to school and live meaningful lives,” Fresh Start director Summer Berman told the audience. “To do the things that everybody here wants to be able to do. We believe in the philosophy that everybody needs to belong.

“The sense of mattering, and that you are a part of something bigger than yourself, is what we’re really about.”

Drake Johnson, who plays football and runs track at Michigan, co-hosted Mock Rock with Emily Klueh, a clinical athletic counselor and a program coordinator for Athletes Connected, a mental-health initiative involving Michigan’s student-athletes. Johnson saw a value addressing mental health during an otherwise relaxed event.

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Corey Hirsch: Dark, Dark, Dark, Dark, Dark, Dark, Dark

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By Corey Hirsch, retired NHL player

It’s the summer of 1994, I am standing at the edge of a cliff in Kamloops, British Columbia, and I am checking out.

In February, as a 21-year-old starting goalie, I’d backstopped Canada to an Olympic silver medal. In June, as the third goalie for the New York Rangers, I’d drunk out of the Stanley Cup. I have a girlfriend at home. I have a turbo sports car parked behind me. I have the horizon in front of me — so much horizon — and as I look out past the end of it, I am completely calm.

I’m going to see how fast this sports car can go … and drive it right off this cliff.

And then, finally, I’ll be at peace. My thoughts will be gone.

I get in my car and back up a mile and a half so I can get some speed. I’ve been down these roads hundreds of times, while playing junior hockey for the Kamloops Blazers. All I ever wanted to be, ever since I was a little kid, was a goalie. Ever since I saw Gerry Cheevers in that iconic fiberglass mask — you know the one, with the black stitches painted all over it — I just knew. That’s it. I want to be the guy behind that mask. I want to play in the NHL.

Now I’m 22 years old, and I’ve made it to the NHL. I have my whole life ahead of me.

A mental health issue is not a sign of weakness.

And none of it matters.

I crank up the music. I slam my foot down on the gas and try not to think. I am done. I can’t do it anymore.

I’m in first gear, second gear, third gear….

I’m up to 100 mph.

The g-force sucks me back into the seat.

I’m up to 140.

I’m coming up to the cliff. I’m sorry to everybody — I really am. I’m so sorry. But I just can’t do it anymore.

I’m coming up to the edge of the cliff.

This is the end.

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Billy Hurley III: To My Dad

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By Billy Hurley III, PGA Tour Player

Dear Dad,

When I think about you and your life, my mind is flooded with memories.

I think of you coming home from work in the evenings and compulsively repairing things around the house — a door knob, the gutters, a window frame. I think of our Wiffle ball games in the front yard with me and my three siblings, playing until it was too dark to see the ball.

Most of all, I think of your golf lessons.

From when I first started getting serious about the game, our backyard served as our family’s personal driving range. We didn’t have much space. It was pretty barren out there. We didn’t have grass. We didn’t even have any balls.

But we did have a floodlight and my set of clubs.

Each lesson went the same way. I’d finish my homework and step out onto the back deck. You’d follow me out after putting down your police uniform  — your 10-hour shift having just ended (or sometimes, just about to begin). The floodlight on the house would cast your long shadow across the floorboards toward the yard, into the darkness.

Even though we don’t know why you did what you did, you made an incredible impact on everyone who loved you.

I would take my stance, fiddle with my grip and wag the club head just inches above the deck. And then your voice would cut through the silence.

“Alright, Billy. Take a swing.”

Whoosh.

“Another one.”

Whoosh.

“One more time, but hold it at the top.”

I’d take the club back and stop midway through my swing, holding as still as I could. And then I would turn my neck and look at you.

“The club is not pointed at the target, Billy.”

I’d take another swing.

“Nope, that’s not it. Hold on.”

You’d walk over to me, grab my arm and tweak the position of the club.

“Alright, take the club back again.”

With all the changes, everything would feel foreign — almost as if I had never picked up a golf club in my life. It was infuriating.

“Dad, are you kidding me? This doesn’t feel right at all.”

You’d look at me, head tilted a bit, arms crossed. I knew what you were going to say. I knew exactly what you were going to say.

“I don’t care what it feels like, Billy. Feeling is not reality.”

I’d loosen my grip, let the club head hit the ground and just stand there.

Feeling is not reality.

Feeling is not reality.

Feeling … is not … reality.

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Mind / Game Screening

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Athletes Connected, University of Michigan Depression Center and the Prechter Bipolar Research Fund held a free screening of “Mind/Game: The Unquiet Journey of Chamique Holdsclaw.” on Jan. 18. After the screening, a panel Q & A with Chamique Holdsclaw herself and local experts followed at the Michigan Theatre.

As a 3-time NCAA champ and No. 1 WNBA draft pick, Chamique Holdsclaw was being called the “female Michael Jordan” until her long suppressed battle with mental disorders emerged to derail her career and threaten her life.

The documentary “Mind/Game: The Unquiet Journey of Chamique Holdsclaw” intimately chronicles Holdsclaw’s athletic accomplishments and personal setbacks, and her decision to become an outspoken mental health advocate. The film, by Rick Goldsmith and narrated by Glenn Close, tells the powerful story of courage, struggle, and redemption.