On Roberto Osuna, and Mental Health in Baseball

Toronto Blue Jays closer Roberto Osuna recently announced that he's been dealing with an "anxiety issue" and will miss some time as a result.

"I really don't know how to explain it. I just feel anxious. I feel like I'm lost a little bit right now," Osuna said in an interview, "I'm just a little bit lost right now."

On a very slight level, I can relate. I obviously don't play Major League Baseball- I didn't even play in high school. 

In fact, my baseball career ended when I was around 11.

I was a genuinely terrible player. Like, -3 WAR bad.

Skills-wise, I wasn't an offensively bad player by any means. In practice, I could make good contact with the ball, catch pop-ups and field grounders. Maybe my running tool wasn't the best (I'd probably grade myself as a 40 on a 20-80 scale for Little Leaguers), but I was able to do all the things any seemingly competent Little Leaguer could.

Until game day, that was. 

My baseball career was derailed for one reason: I was terrified of getting hit by the ball*. 

(*in fairness to me, though, getting hit by a baseball REALLY HURTS)

Every single one of my at-bats played out something like this:

At the start of the game, I'd check where I was hitting in the lineup that day. It'd usually be somewhere towards the bottom of the order. Phew, I thought to myself, I don't have to think about hitting until at least the third inning. But as the game went on and it got closer to my turn to hit, I'd get this sinking feeling in my stomach: God, I just KNOW I'm gonna get hit this at-bat, and I couldn't get that mental image out of my mind.

And when it finally came my turn to hit, my palms sweat profusely, my heart thunderously pounded in my chest, and I would flinch in self-defense at almost every pitch that came remotely inside. Fortunately for me, these at-bats usually ended quickly, either in a three-pitch strikeout or by way of a meager dribbler that landed in front of the catcher, who easily threw me out at first because of my aforementioned grade 40 speed. Usually, my only satisfaction from my plate appearances came from the fact that that I hadn't been plunked in the back or the butt, or God forbid, on the dreaded elbow.

My baseball career simultaneously hit its pinnacle AND nadir during my "Majors"-level season, which saw me turn in a career-worst .000 batting average, but this was entirely offset by the fact that my team, the Marlins, won the Scripps Ranch Little League World Series, and even went on to win the tournament that hosted all of the Majors-level league champions across San Diego. 

Rightly realizing that I was probably never going to reach that peak in my playing career again, I decided to hang it up. Thankfully, I was able to ride off into the sunset as a champion- rarefied air that many of my far more talented Scripps Ranch Little League contemporaries never even got to sniff. 

We all deal with anxiety at some point in our lives- but I didn't have the words to describe it then. I now realize though that anxiety effectively ended my baseball career. In a clinical sense, it didn't interfere with my everyday life or anything- but it made me realize that I really didn't enjoy actually playing the game of baseball, and ultimately made me quit playing because I didn't like feeling nervous on the field.

However, (and this is especially directed at Mom and Dad, if either of you two get around to reading this) I don't want to present my tenure as a Little Leaguer as this traumatic childhood experience- on the contrary, I had some of my fondest pre-teen memories playing Little League Baseball and made friends that I have kept to this day.

Most importantly though, playing Little League made baseball the first sport I ever truly fell in love with, and it's probably one of the reasons why I write this blog. Outside of This Team Makes Me Drink, I'm a psychology grad student by trade- and issues relating to mental well-being are near and dear to my heart. 

I felt compelled to write this post because Osuna's revelation about suffering from anxiety illuminates the intersection between baseball and mental health that has seldom been talked about. 

Sadly a harmful, society-wide stigma exists towards people who deal with mental illness. I won't give the Twitter trolls the satisfaction of reposting their ugly comments they've left for Osuna online, but ignorant statements like "it's all in his head, he just needs to snap out of it" have sadly been all-too-common refrains that perpetuate the damaging narrative that people struggling with mental illness are too weak to face their problems head-on.

Statistically speaking, 1 in 5 Americans suffer from mental illness in a given year- so it's highly likely that many more professional baseball players are also struggling with mental illness. However, Osuna is the first baseball player to miss playing time due to a mental health issue since 2006, when Zack Grenkie took a leave of absence from the Royals to get treatment for social anxiety disorder. 

The relative silence from the baseball community on mental health issues is at odds with the established facts about it- and it would not be surprising at all if the negative stigma towards mental illness is especially pervasive- even amplified- in a ecosystem like the hyper-masculine MLB clubhouse. 

Roberto Osuna and I are the same age- and I could not imagine allowing myself to be that vulnerable on such a public platform. Never underestimate the ability of baseball to lead the conversation about social issues- look at what Jackie Robinson did for the Civil Rights movement. If Osuna speaking out about his struggles with anxiety can have even a fraction of the positive effect that Robinson had- it's a big deal.

I'm inspired by Osuna's courage- and I hope that his openness will allow other players to speak out. We must fight the stigma around mental illness- and this is an important moment in that battle.

If you or a friend is dealing with a mental health crisis and need immediate assistance, call 1-800-273-TALK [8255]. You are not alone.