Welcome to Warning Track Power, a weekly newsletter of baseball stories and analysis grounded in front office and scouting experiences and the personalities encountered along the way.
When I began Warning Track Power, one of my motivations was to illuminate issues that were disregarded by traditional baseball media. There’s a predictability to each season’s storylines — obligatory Spring Training reports, managers on the hot seat, trade deadline rumors, MVP frontrunners, the offseason’s hot stove — that account for much of the coverage. Sprinkle in a lockout that dredges up everything that’s wrong with the game, and here we are.
Last week, tragedy struck when Jeremy Giambi died at the age of 47. The news broke against the backdrop of the trial of former Angels communications director Eric Kay, who was found guilty on two counts of drug distribution resulting in death and drug conspiracy.
Between the lurid details of drug use within the Angels clubhouse and the continued failed labor negotiations, there was more than an adequate smokescreen to shield the Giambi family from scrutiny.
Jason Giambi was well regarded by the media during his time as a player. It’s likely that no one wanted to sensationalize his brother’s suicide. Respect for the family superseded a headline.
What has been left unsaid, however, is that the need for mental health programs within baseball is as necessary as ever.
Tom Verducci of Sports Illustrated wrote an outstanding article last April that details some of the players who had recently stepped away from the game for mental reasons.
In other sports, American gymnast Simone Biles had the courage to prioritize her mental health during last summer’s Olympic Games. Atlanta Falcons wide receiver Calvin Ridley played only five games this past season for similar reasons. Four-time Grand Slam champion Naomi Osaka withdrew from the French Open last summer to focus on her mental health.
Late in the 2020 season, then-Angels shortstop Andrelton Simmons ended his year early to deal with depression. He was not alone.
It’s only a matter of time before more prominent players leave the game because of mental health concerns. Knowing that some have already walked away from the game, it begs the question as to how many more players might have left had it not been for the presence of capable mental health clinicians?
All teams have an Employee Assistance Professional program in place. Over the years, EAPs have had a chance to visit minor league affiliates in addition to their Major League work. I was always encouraged when I saw players in conversation with health care clinicians; even casual conversation with one of them requires courage on the player’s behalf.
Major League Baseball has a chance to be a leader in sports and society. The players have a chance.
However, the trust between players and team management fractured over the lifespan of the recently expired Basic Agreement. Issues like service-time manipulation and the devaluing of veteran free agents undermine good faith and give rise to other insecurities. Some players are concerned over the perception of being seen speaking to a team-employed mental health professional.
The current labor dispute creates ripple effects that transcend the on-field performance of players. Consequently, the Players Association might be best positioned to take the lead. If treatment is available outside of the team’s auspices, then perhaps more players will feel comfortable reaching out.
After speaking with people around the game with knowledge of these issues, I’m optimistic that the mental health of players is becoming a bigger priority. For starters, MLB and the MLBPA have done a good job establishing broader resources for players in recent years.
The most recent CBA required that each team provide confidential resources to any player who wanted them. There’s now an 800-number that players can call anonymously.
Some teams have begun to differentiate between mental skills and mental health. Yet there are still plenty of challenges. It’s not a problem specific to baseball either. After the past two years, it’s difficult to imagine that our nation’s mental health struggles have bottomed out.
In baseball, though, the channels are different than elsewhere. A coaching staff reports to the manager, and a scouting department reports to the scouting director, but who oversees mental health initiatives? And, perhaps more importantly, who introduces the program to players?
Teams are continually revamping the way they approach optimizing physical performance. Continuing education, new data, and technological advances create a foundation for evolution.
Yogi Berra said that baseball is 90 percent mental. Today, the “other half” needs to account for a player’s off-field wellness.
It’s mental health in an alpha-male environment. It’s far from simple. If ever we needed Yogi to offer his wisdom…
Youth baseball has become a showcase for players who must simultaneously navigate the pressures of adolescence, club team pressures and, of course, pressure from parents.
The kids whose parents are counting on baseball to generate some sort of financial result — be it through college scholarships or signing bonuses — are part of the next wave of big leaguers. What kind of system need to be established to support young players whose parents have prioritized success over health?
Players who we will be watching on TV in the coming years have spent their adolescence in a pandemic. I’m still looking for the parent who will tell me that his or her teenager hasn’t been emotionally strained by the past two years. If what lies under the surface in MLB right now is bad, it’s hard to imagine the future not being worse.
There’s plenty of research that needs to be done. Is the pool of pro baseball players representative of society at large in terms of mental health challenges? Is it worse because of difficult lifestyle in the minors?
The race for teams to build the best analytics departments has been well documented. Next up should be the establishment of cutting-edge mental health programs. Perhaps baseball operations executives will embrace mental wellness as the new competitive advantage.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about makeup. As evaluators, we seek information about a player’s personal life, habits and off-field behavior. Those factors — his character — might determine how he handles success or adversity. That box always seemed fixed; the player is who he is — his upbringing and current work ethic defines him forever.
Now I wonder what could happen if teams got away from the narrative that a player could become great if he changed his ways, and instead suggested that even a player with certain mental or off-field challenges could reach his potential because the environment was created to nurture, heal, and support.
This issue is multifaceted and complex. Not everyone can be saved, but that’s not an excuse never to try. As much as players need support early in their professional career, many could also use guidance as they leave baseball, as they prepare to embark upon a life without the very game that has defined them forever.
There are coaches and scouts who have also known nothing outside the orbit of the game. It’s not easy to find mental health experts who understand the nuances of a baseball season or the inherent pressures of a contract year, a pennant race, or a personal concern off the field, perhaps in a different country. It’s not easy, but there are signs that the game is trying. People are listening.
None of it is easy. I’ve barely begun to scratch the surface here.
It’s my hope that by forcing the conversation, though, we can foster an environment better equipped to support anyone in need.
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Thanks for shining a light on this, Ryan. We’ve really done a disservice to athletes for generations, basically ignoring their mental health and focusing on their physical talents while we applaud them for being clutch, or for having ice in their veins, or for standing up to the pressures of top competition. They’re still humans—even the superhumans among us, like Michael Phelps.
Now, someone like Phelps has the means to seek the professional mental healthcare he needs, but what about the millions of child athletes who don’t yet have the coping skills or the means to deal with pressures put on them by adults?
There are thousands of examples of this, but I’ll just mention one of the most recent cases: Kamila Valieva. We can’t help but see the harm that’s being done to youths today in the pursuit of a bit of athletic glory. I’m all for the pursuit, but at what cost?
Such an important topic; thanks for sharing