It seems like the beginning of a joke, but we were at that table drinking coffee: a coach, a club psychologist, a former international soccer player and a writer. We went from one topic to another: the weather (increasingly crazier), the political situation (increasingly worse), the latest sports results (increasingly predictable). At one point, the conversation focused on something that has been very fashionable in recent times: the mental health of the elite footballer. The psychologist explained that luckily today the clubs are very aware of the importance of the issue and that is why many more resources are also allocated. The coach agreed with him and pointed out that it is true that today clubs finally understand their players as assets, as assets that must be taken care of, and that helped. The ex-footballer just smiled, nodding silently. Only when we said goodbye and he and I walked together for a while towards our cars, without the other interlocutors present, did he express his opinion. He confessed that, in general, the player never trusts his coach or psychologist for these issues. They are hired by the club and they owe it to the club, he added. If you are really bad, he said, you talk about it with your family, not even with your representative. Listening to him I thought that that boy must have had a very bad time at one point in his career, although it never seemed to be reflected on the playing field. I remember his words made me think about how depression is still a stigma in the workplace and I remembered how alone you feel when the world hurts.
Sports psychology began to gain a foothold in the elite as a tool at the service of performance. The psychologist emerged as another type of coach, rather than a therapist. The mind was treated like another muscle in the body, which must be at one hundred percent before each game. Although it is true that to perform it is preferable to be mentally well, and that there may be some cure in performance orientation, it is no less true that maximum demands and health are not always completely compatible. For example, if a club psychologist detects a certain mental fragility in a player, should he convey this to the coach and sports director regarding a possible renewal? Should you warn, like your colleague, the doctor warns about possible injuries in a check-up before hiring? How can you expect a player to confess in a context like this: that he cries daily, that he has self-destructive thoughts, that he doubts whether he will be able to cope with the pressure? We will agree that this leaves the psychologist in no man’s land, since it is difficult for the player to transmit his deepest fears. Would the reader trust the company psychologist if his words could put his future job at risk?
When I had the opportunity, I raised these doubts with that sports psychologist. He is an intelligent man, so much so that he chose not to answer them directly. But he did affirm that the most appropriate thing, when a major problem is detected, is to refer it to a colleague. He also said that he had never faced a dilemma such as having to convey doubts to the club about the possible performance of a player in the face of a renewal, among other things because no one had ever asked him such a question, and that he was firmly convinced that anyone that feels broken is recoverable. The most important thing, he concluded, is that the player never feels so alone that he cannot talk to anyone. And I know it’s difficult, he added, I myself have been very screwed at some point.
Talking to him comforted me. The children in his care were in good hands. When we said goodbye, I sent an audio to the former player in which I came to say that, if at any time clouds appear in the sky again, please feel that you can count on me. He responded to me with a very similar message. I know that it was not a mere formula, that he really said it. I smiled. I thought of other good friends. It bothers me to end this text with a cliché, but I felt that we never walk alone.
