Good morning,
Ever since I was a child I loved reading the newspaper every morning. My parents had daily subscriptions to both marquee Chicago newspapers, the Tribune and Sun-Times, and once the early 90s rolled around, my favorite section shifted from Comics to Sports.
I read everything about the Bulls as they rose then peaked as the best team in basketball. I pored over columns analyzing games, personal interest stories about various players, and I fondly recall a statistics page tracking Dennis Rodman’s hair colors during their 72-win season in 1995-96. Eventually I read about the Cubs and Bears and White Sox, too, but my pull to the Sports pages was sparked by the breadth of stories about the most dynamic and exciting team of the 90s.
Over the years my interest in professional sports has waned; I rarely read the Sports sections in the two daily papers I get every day. Sometimes I skim through the pages, though, hoping to find a story about pickleball (while the game is still growing, stories about its novelty and/or court conflicts seem to be fading). The other day, while waiting to meet my cousin for coffee, I had a little extra time and made my way to the Sports section. An abnormal headline grabbed my attention, and then I spent the next 10-15 minutes reading this entire article by Jon Krawczynski: Retired at 33, a Former Prodigy Reflects on His Hidden Anguish.
I’d never so much as heard the name Ricky Rubio until I read this article. (This is a testament to my age more than anything.) After reading more about him and his story, I wonder how many other players might feel the same as he yet do not speak as publicly as him regarding his mental health.
A quick snapshot about Rubio:
“Those early, innocent days birthed a career that included Olympic medals, a World Cup title and MVP award and a 12-year NBA career that ended earlier in January when he announced his retirement from the Cleveland Cavaliers.
Rubio also paid a price during almost two decades in the spotlight. As a 14-year-old prodigy in Spain, he gave his youth to the game in his eagerness to get his career started. He shouldered the pressure that comes with being a much-hyped prospect and endured several major injuries throughout his NBA career that challenged him mentally and physically to such a degree that he could not muster a 13th season in the NBA.
Rubio’s decision to retire came four months after he announced he was stepping away to address his mental health. He alluded to July 30 being ‘one of the toughest nights of my life’ and said the feeling of losing control prompted him to end his career.”
Rubio has not elaborated more about his feelings of losing control or that very tough night, but the article does touch on how Rubio’s genial demeanor and positive attitude often masked how he really felt:
“When he was chosen fifth by the Minnesota Timberwolves, he was asked in his first interview off of the stage to what player he would compare himself.
‘I’m Ricky Rubio,’ he said. ‘I’m not like anybody else.’
That became a mantra of sorts that followed Rubio to the Twin Cities, a philosophy that focused on avoiding comparisons and staying true to one’s self. Fifteen years later, Rubio says that deep down inside, adhering to that credo was much more difficult than he made it look.
‘I wish I could have lived by those words. I have tried,’ Rubio said.”
This article got me thinking about work and attitude and natural talent: just because I’m naturally good at something, should I pursue it? And if something I loved doing no longer works for me, whether it’s a job or a hobby, should I continue to pursue it just because it’s a part of my identity?
Part of Rubio’s struggle came from the fact that he started his professional pursuits at 14 years old – he never had a proper childhood:
“All these years later, Rubio wonders if starting so young was the best thing for him, especially if the stressors that started at 14 and accumulated across two decades prevented his one chance at being a kid.
‘It’s tough and it’s hard to do because you only have one chance, probably, sometimes in life,’ he said. ‘If you don’t jump on that train, you don’t know what would have happened. But I wish I would have enjoyed more of that early stage of my life.’
Rubio is a rarity, a prodigy who excelled so highly at a young age. He excelled at the top of his profession. Yet him questioning his career decisions reminded me of one of my favorite maxims: “The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second best time is now." I heard that from someone when I wrestled with going to graduate school to become a teacher in my late 20s, which at the time seemed very late to do something like that.
The article continues:
“Through every bit of adversity, Rubio tried to tell himself, and the world around him, ‘never too high, never too low.’ The conflict inside him finally became too much to bear.
‘I was lost. I didn’t know who I was. I had to rebuild myself,’ he said. ‘I think eventually a lot of people have that point in their life that has to rebuild them because they have lost the focus on the purpose of their life. Luckily, I stopped it in time.’”
Another one of my favorite maxims is “Don’t compare your insides to other people’s outsides.” I think that’s why the Rubio article resonated with me so much; it’s rare to hear a celebrity at the top of their game, especially a professional athlete, open up as much as Rubio has about the inner struggles relating to the game he is so good at, the game that opened up his life and enabled him to see the world, earn money, support a family. Not everyone is in a position to leave their job; some NBA players make more in a season than someone might earn in their entire lifetime (or some players, like LeBron James, maybe just one game). But the humanity that Rubio touches on, the fact that he invokes his loved ones and their support, makes him relatable despite his worldly successes.
The article continues:
“Rubio was surrounded by family, friends, former teammates and basketball people who offered support and well wishes. He started to get help to address what he was going through and has, gradually, started to come out of the fog.
‘I know I’m not alone. So I feel like when you speak out, people relate to you,’ he said. ‘We’re human beings, we go through the same things in a different context. Lean on each other, lean on who you love. It’s been a tough process, I’m not going to lie.’
‘I’d rather be seen as a good person than a great player. At the end of the day, what people will remember is who you are and how you make them feel, not because you play good basketball or bad.’
Little by little, Rubio is finding himself again. The personal improvement he has made in recent weeks only validates his decision to bring an end to his NBA career.
‘Sometimes I think about my career, but at the end of the day, I had a lot of fun. I enjoyed it. [Were] there bad times? Of course. This is not a perfect story. But I learned a lot, I made a lot of friends through this process and I grew up a lot.’”
Whatever you may be going through right now: Who is surrounding you? What’s fun about it? What’s challenging? And through it all: what are you learning or hope to learn as a result?
Until next time,
Matt
P.S. Thank you to those who respond to my weekly letters. If you’d like to turn your personal message to me into a public comment here, I would be very grateful!
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Nicely done, Matt -- I hadn't realized Rubio had retired. I knew him as an extraordinary passer, not a great shooter, but didn't know of his personal struggles. Hopefully he can inspire others to be more candid and be part of the trend toward destigmatizing mental health as a topic of discussion.