They both can write, but this guy couldn’t hit an open layup if his life depended on it..
Source: WikiImages from Pixabay / Used with permission.
My favorite writer said the following about trying to find the words to articulate his true self: “It’s like assembling a solid black jigsaw puzzle with all the edge pieces missing.”
The writing is so good it obscures the insight it reveals.
The insight is so good it obscures the reflection required to reach it.
The reflection is so good it obscures the courage to share it.
The writer is Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and his Substack is must-read material for anyone interested in psychology.
For the unfamiliar, Abdul-Jabbar held the title of all-time leading scorer in the NBA for 39 years (until passed by LeBron James). A six-time NBA champion and three-time NCAA champion, he is undeniably in the smallest group of greatest players ever.
But here’s the thing: He’s a better writer than basketball player, which should be impossible. He writes about politics, philosophy, and the arts from a psychological perspective so healthy it might as well be called, “Dispatches from the Top of Maslow’s Pyramid.”
Most notable is his humility, as well as his comfort in exploring and articulating his own vulnerabilities and inadequacies. The fearlessness with which he is able to share his own self-exploration is inspiring, and even more, it’s helpful.
What’s clear from his writing is that Abdul-Jabbar feels everything, very deeply, but it does not overwhelm him; it stimulates him. He seeks out, joyfully, the most painful and challenging questions in life in order to find his best self.
Abdul-Jabbar writes from a perspective that every therapist would want for their patients. And by sharing his journey, he normalizes the type of reflection we need to live our best lives. He does his therapeutic reflection in public, and the positive impact he has on the people he reaches is undeniable, as made evident by his readers’ commentary every week.
Whether or not it’s his explicit intention, Abdul-Jabbar’s writing encourages people to engage in the therapeutic process and stick with it, especially when it gets hard. And he’s hardly the only professional athlete to do so.
Athletes and Rock Stars
I’ve always laughed at the idea that “Athletes want to be rock stars and rock stars want to be athletes.” Yeah, right. Until a 300-pound brick wall of a defensive lineman tries to take off Slash’s head during the intro to “Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
Sorry, rock stars. You’re not in the same league. You’re not being opposed by the most talented people in the world trying to make you fail. You are otherworldly-talented. But athletes deal with levels of uncertainty and risk that would knock most of you on your behinds. The courage and resilience required to be a successful athlete are astonishing. Success is dependent on response to repeated failure, even during victory, and always in front of huge crowds.
Some athletes are brave; they feel no fear. Most athletes are courageous; they feel the fear but blow past it. Yet these athletes don’t “feel” courageous. They feel compelled to compete. Being courageous is just a prerequisite. Without it, they wouldn’t want to compete in the first place.
There is a perfectly analogous endeavor: Therapy patients don’t feel courageous. They feel compelled to get better. Being courageous is a just a prerequisite. Without it, they wouldn’t want to heal in the first place.
Perhaps it should be no surprise, then, that some of the most prolific and important advocates for therapy and mental health over the last 25 years have been professional athletes. It’s perfectly consistent with who they are.
Taking a Different Field
Former NFL running back Ricky Williams is objectively likable: curious, earnest, thoughtful, sensitive, and caring. For the unfamiliar, there are great documentaries and interviews about him worth watching. Williams had one of the most high-profile struggles with mental health in sports history because he was one of the most talented and accomplished football players of all time. The indignities that he faced as a result were not as awful as what baseball pioneer Jackie Robinson had to endure. But they were awful.
He has so much to be proud of in how he handled it all, but even more from how he helped others who followed. He dismantled stereotypes and made it infinitely easier to talk about mental health in sports. We’ll never know how many other people asked themselves, “How am I doing?” because of him. He now devotes his life to spreading positivity and healing.
Former NBA star Metta World Peace thanked his therapist after hitting an NBA-championship-winning-shot. Former NFL wide receiver Brandon Marshall was an early pioneer in normalizing discussions about mental health, and remains a beacon. Legendary Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps chose to cash in on his fame by encouraging others to improve their lives through therapy. Tennis star Naomi Osaka could have chosen not explain her hiatus from the sport. Instead she chose vulnerability so she could advocate for therapy to help others. Olympic gymnast Simone Biles did that, too. Rex Chapman wrote a heartbreaking book about his struggles. And Billie Jean King deserves a monument for her impact beyond sports.
Sports aren’t even the half of it.
Source: IPGGutenbergUKLtd / Getty Images
These athletes have thrilled us with their brilliance, but that’s not what defines their importance.
Charles Barkley famously once said, “I am not a role model.” Sorry, dude. We’re all role models, whether for good or bad. And that group above is about as good as it gets.
Normalizing therapy as a necessary tool to live our best lives would do more for humanity than any technological achievement ever could.
One day, the stigma will be, “You’re not in therapy? What are you so afraid of?”
And the world will be a much better place for it.
And when it happens, we’ll have Kareem to thank. And Ricky. And Brandon. And Michael. And Naomi. And Simone. And don’t even get me started on Billie Jean; we’ll be here for hours.
To find a therapist, visit the Psychology Today Therapy Directory.