Mental health on injury report? NBA’s awakening could spark unprecedented move

Warriors head coach Steve Kerr understands the complications such a move would bring — especially in this era of social media, which gives every fan a platform — but he still welcomes the possibility.

“The more we normalize (mental health), the less stigma there is and the more comfortable people will be getting the help they need,” Kerr said.

As Kerr realizes, it’s easy for fans to look at professional athletes — coping with pressure and scrutiny, yes, but also awash in fame and wealth — and wonder how they could face mental health challenges. That helps explain the backlash 76ers-turned-Nets guard Ben Simmons encountered last year.

Simmons missed the 2021-22 season with a back injury and mental health issues, sparking strong criticism from fans. Simmons, on former teammate JJ Redick’s podcast in September, said he also didn’t receive support from his Philadelphia coaches and some teammates.

Even Warriors guard Stephen Curry, the often-smiling face of a marquee franchise, occasionally struggled earlier in his career. Long before he became a four-time NBA champion and two-time MVP, Curry missed more than 50 games with ankle injuries that raised doubts about his long-term durability.

And that tested his mental health in a profound way.

“I’m forever grateful for the circle I had around me to keep tabs on me through those years,” Curry told The Chronicle. “You’re away from the game, away from your team, stuck in rehab — your identity is kind of threatened a little bit because you can’t do what you love. … Those were dark times, for sure.”

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Jerry West, the logo himself, battled depression throughout his life because of a physically abusive father, according to West’s memoir. Lakers forward Ron Artest, now known as Metta Sandiford-Artest, thanked his psychiatrist during a live national-television interview after he helped the Lakers win Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals.

Still, in many ways the league’s mental-health awakening traces to the tweet DeRozan posted at 3:06 a.m. on Feb. 17, 2018. He was 28 and playing for Toronto at the time, preparing to make his fourth All-Star Game appearance the next day in his hometown of Los Angeles.

“This depression get the best of me…” DeRozan tweeted.

Those words, quoting rapper Kevin Gates’ song “Tomorrow,” resonated deeply. DeRozan didn’t specify why he was depressed, but it did not go unnoticed that such an accomplished player — who had survived a rough, violence-scarred upbringing in Compton — felt compelled to reveal his psychological struggles.

Two-plus weeks later, Cleveland forward Kevin Love posted a first-person essay in The Players’ Tribune, titled “Everyone Is Going Through Something.” Love vividly detailed his long bout with anxiety, including a panic attack earlier that season during one game.

He acknowledged DeRozan’s tweet about depression helped convince him to share his own story.

“If you’re suffering silently like I was, then you know how it can feel like nobody really gets it,” Love wrote. “… People don’t talk about mental health enough, and men and boys are probably the farthest behind.”

Soon thereafter, the players association launched a mental health and wellness program. The NBPA hired William Parham, a respected Loyola Marymount professor with more than 30 years of experience in the field — working with the NFL, MLS, the U.S. Olympic Committee and UCLA, among others — to lead its efforts.

The NBA also started its own program, Mind Health, within months after DeRozan and Love spoke out (the league had started making clinical psychologists available to teams in 2015). Now all 30 teams are required to make a licensed, experienced mental health professional available to players.

Both programs are designed to assure players confidentiality if they seek treatment. If a player chooses the NBPA option, for example, Parham recommends three people in the desired NBA city and encourages the player to have a brief, get-acquainted conversation with each without revealing his real name.

“We have phenomenal performers, but within each performer is a person,” said Kensa Gunter, director of the NBA’s program since January 2020. “So we’re trying to humanize the conversation. It’s more than science and symptoms.”

NBA players hardly are alone in shining a light on mental health challenges in the sports world. Gymnast Simone Biles, tennis player Naomi Osaka and swimmer Michael Phelps also have shaped the conversation.

Wall, now with the Clippers, did the same with his own first-person Players Tribune piece in September. Wall started by writing, “I was this close to taking my own life,” then offered a powerful account of how his mom’s death, atop his torn Achilles tendon, sent him spiraling into deep depression two years ago.

Experts like Gunter and Parham acknowledged the impact of prominent athletes, including Wall, addressing long-taboo topics such as suicide. That helps bring mental health into the normal discourse and leads to more people understanding its importance.

Plus, as Gunter put it, more people are talking about what they’re doing to get help — seeing therapists, using their support system, seeking solutions. That’s a striking step, she said, from the days when “mental health” often was interpreted as “mental illness.”

Parham pointed to DeRozan, Love and Wall for influencing people far beyond the sports realm.

“It’s akin to a pebble in a pond, creating ripples far beyond,” Parham said. “These personal, courageous, raw disclosures really give people a moment to pause: ‘If these players are hooping at Hall of Fame levels, and they’re vulnerable, maybe I can surround myself with people and resources to get healed earlier.’

“So their disclosures are the gift that keeps on giving.”

Kerr offered some context here. In his playing career, he said, NBA players didn’t say anything about their psychological state for fear of being perceived as mentally weak. That could prevent them from landing their next contract.

Now the dynamic has shifted dramatically. Kerr compared the wave of candid, first-person stories about mental health to gay athletes coming out over the past 20 years. That helped normalize same-sex marriage in society, in Kerr’s mind.

But are NBA players really ready to embrace a “mental health” category on the injury report, right there alongside “sprained ankle” and “wrist soreness”? Gunter and Parham agreed the chance to rest, recover and decompress can be valuable, if a person engages in things like meditation, a massage or counseling. Parham cautioned that “simply taking time off is not as important as what you do with the time.”

Still, adding a new designation on the injury report seems like a big step, even with everything that has happened in the past five years.

“The discussion is a sign of progress, but actually bringing it to fruition is a lot more complex discussion,” Parham said. “It’s so progressive, they really have to make sure they get this right.”

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Warriors officials highlighted this increased mental health awareness in their design of Chase Center. Rick Celebrini, the team’s director of sports medicine and performance, created a “mindfulness” room, a phone-free area where players can meditate, nap or play iPad games to help with vision and focus.

This fits well with Kerr’s holistic approach. He frequently reminds his players they earn their salaries not for playing basketball, but for getting cut, traded, injured, booed, criticized in the media and ridiculed on Twitter. That’s the more daunting challenge.

One recent example: New Orleans forward Zion Williamson, one of the NBA’s most physically imposing players, has talked of sobbing in the arms of assistant coach Teresa Weatherspoon at one point last season, as he struggled to cope with his long absence (broken foot) and ensuing social-media vitriol.

“Athletes are viewed as powerful and physically strong, mentally strong,” Kerr said. “So when young people realize these people, who seemingly have everything and do all these amazing things under pressure, even they feel vulnerable when emotional adversity comes their way …

“It hits all of us, really. There’s no shame in it, obviously, but it’s great for young people to see athletes are vulnerable too.”

As Wiseman recovered from his knee injury last season, he also ultimately regained his mental health. Wiseman had endured a difficult childhood — sometimes studying by candlelight because his family couldn’t afford its electricity bill — but he hadn’t previously spent time in therapy.

He began writing poetry, putting his thoughts in a daily journal and meditating. Wiseman also benefited from long talks with Atlanta guard Dejounte Murray, who missed all of his third season in the NBA because of a torn ACL.

Now, even amid a sluggish start to this season (including a recent assignment to the Warriors’ G-League affiliate in Santa Cruz), Wiseman said he’s “at peace with myself.” He’s mostly grateful to be healthy and playing basketball, rather than wandering in the darkness.

“We all need help sometimes,” Wiseman said. “It doesn’t matter what kind of status you have: We’re all humans, we have emotions and we’re not perfect. So if you need help or have any problems, don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

Ron Kroichick is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: [email protected] Twitter: @ronkroichick