Another NHL player died this past week, bringing the total to three over the past four months.
Wade Belak, who played for five NHL teams during his 14-year career including stops with the Toronto Maple Leafs and Calgary Flames, was found dead in a hotel in Toronto August 31.
In mid-May, Derek Boogaard died as a result of mixing alcohol with prescription pain medicine.
In mid-August, Rick Rypien died and although the official cause of death hasn’t been released by police, it is believed Rypien took his own life.
The latest player, Belak, also took his own life and it begins to raise the question of how much pressure these athletes are under.
All three players earned a living in the NHL by being an enforcer. Often only seeing a few minutes of ice time a game as they were asked to protect the better players on the team. Georges Laraque has probably been the most outspoken enforcer, talking about how much of a toll fighting took on his physical and mental wellbeing.
Laraque said he used to get so nervous the night before a game in which he knew he would be asked to fight that he couldn’t sleep.
Boogaard’s bouts with depression were well documented after suffering his latest concussion and dealing with the symptoms that followed.
In Rypien’s case it was well know he suffered from depression and had asked the NHL for a medical leave of absence this past season to deal with his personal demons.
But in Belak’s case there weren’t indicators—at least publicly—that he was struggling both emotionally and mentally.
Belak, who was born in Saskatoon and raised in Battleford, was a loving husband who had two young daughters. He became a fan favorite in Toronto and was often interviewed after games because of his cunning wit and inability to shy away from the tough questions.
So what does it say about the state of hockey that three enforcers have died in such a short period of time?
There are going to be links drawn to the fact that each player played what is considered by many to be the most difficult job in the sporting community. The pressure is enormous and the risk is palpable each and every time they laced up the skates.
The NHL and NHLPA have long preached how each organization is serious about cracking down on concussions. The research now suggests players could suffer from the affects of concussions for the rest of their lives, affecting their mood and ability to concentrate.
I’ve often found their campaign against concussions to lack credibility and substance. I don’t understand how you can suggest you’re cracking down on concussions when you allow athletes to bare-knuckle box at any point during a 60-minute game. The two ideas don’t add up, they are a complete oxymoron.
There will be others who scoff at the recent deaths, wondering how bad these hockey players, who make millions of dollars, really have it. But depression and mental problems don’t see wealth, race, sex or age and they usually come in the shadow of silence to claim their victims.
We all recognize when someone is bleeding, limping, or has a cast on their arm. The effects of a physical injury can be measured and quantified and immediately garner empathy from all of us who see the injury. Mental health on the other hand isn’t easily quantified. There is no measurable scale or physical ailment that can signal to others that the person is experiencing problems.
Worse yet, the stigma that is associated with such problems often causes the person being affected to retreat further, choosing to reflect the pain inward, increasing it exponentially.
The recent deaths in the NHL should be a reminder that mental illness can strike anywhere and anytime.
The deaths are made more difficult in Saskatchewan. Both Boogaard and Belak were born in Saskatoon and all three players played their junior hockey in the province—Boogaard in Regina, Prince George and Medicine Hat; Belak in Saskatoon; and Rypien in Regina.
Tom Cavanagh, a journeyman hockey player who played in 18 games with the San Jose Sharks, also claimed his life just months after being released from his AHL contract.
The deaths will prompt the NHL to look at its programs dealing with issues away from the ice, but it’s also a good reminder for our society as a whole to examine what type of programs we have for people who are suffering from mental illness. There are many good programs in this country that deal with mental illness but still a lot of people fall through the cracks. In the system they are know as “borderlines,” people that suffer from a variety of mental problems but don’t necessarily stand out and therefore go untreated.
Photo courtesy of HFboards.
No comments:
Post a Comment