Roadblocks for Student-Athletes and Their Effects on Mental Health
By Thomas McPoyle
Growing up, I loved watching those “A Day in the Life of a College Athlete” YouTube videos. They almost always followed the same script: wake up before the sun rises, eat breakfast, train, eat lunch, go to class, train again, eat dinner, do homework, and be in bed by 9 p.m. The routine was pretty basic, but I was always engulfed in the idea of doing that same thing. I watched these vlogs from one athlete to another to pass time. When I was younger, my belief of what it was like to truly be a student-athlete was essentially just like what those YouTube videos showed — stick to a strict schedule and play the sport you love. It seemed like all the athletes were on top of the world, 24/7. I paid attention mostly to what was on the surface for them and that’s essentially what it was; the tip of the iceberg for what I’ve come to experience as a collegiate athlete. There’s more to someone’s daily life than just a schedule and routine.
My Personal Experience
I’ve played soccer my entire life and found a passion for the sport at a very young age. I always had the desire to play in college and was set to do so once I graduated high school. That was until I received an acceptance letter from my top school of choice, the University of Delaware, during my senior year. The acceptance included an academic scholarship offer that would grant me free tuition, taking classes at their smaller local campus (that did not have an athletics program) in my hometown for two years. After a few weeks of debating between playing soccer or going to school with practically no fees, I made the choice to put a pause on soccer and attend the University of Delaware for two years because, financially, I couldn’t turn down that kind of offer.
For my first two years of college, my schedule consisted of going to work at my family’s business in the morning, taking a break in the afternoon for classes, and then going back to work in the evening. Obviously, this was very different from my dream of living a student-athlete life. At the same time, I continued playing soccer on the side for different adult leagues and spent some time coaching youth players. But, it wasn’t near the experience I grew up wishing to have either in college or soccer. After those two years passed, I was ready to continue my education at Delaware, playing soccer at the club level. I had accepted that I wouldn’t be considered a traditional “student-athlete,” but at least I could play soccer for an institution I loved in some way. I was incredibly excited to move on and start the next chapter of my journey.
That’s when COVID hit.
I was forced to stay home and decided not to continue taking classes until the pandemic passed, throwing out all of the new opportunities that I waited for since graduating high school. After the first year went by, I had come to the conclusion that my athletic career was over. At this point, I would be three years removed from competition and would find myself having fallen well below the level at which I needed to be as a player. It was a depressing assumption, but I believed I had reached the end of my soccer career.
That was until a friend of mine reached out to me. He let me know that he was coming to Southern Virginia University to play soccer, just as his older brother did. They brought up the idea of me joining them in the program and, immediately, I was on board with them. Thankfully, after a visit to the campus and a few training sessions with the team, I was added to the roster and was able to revive my hopes of being a collegiate athlete. I arrived on campus in mid-August and was finally able to play again. We trained for about two weeks and competed in our pre-season friendlies. I was finally starting to feel whole again, playing the sport I loved with some of my best friends by my side and forming a brotherhood with my new teammates.
Then, in our last exhibition match before the season began, I suffered the worst injury I’ve ever had — a torn ACL, meniscus, and MCL.
As soon as my collegiate career began, it was forced to a halt as I was forced to the sidelines for ten months. I missed out on the entire season to which everything I have trained for has led. I underwent surgery on my knee about a month and a half after the incident, and from that point on, almost all of my time left in the remainder of the semester was dedicated to my recovery, hoping I could be back up to par for the next fall.
I spent countless hours with my trainers and in the weight room to rebuild the strength I lost from the reconstruction of my knee, and, admittedly, much less time in the classroom. Despite knowing how long of a process my rehabilitation would take since I received the surgery, several months into my recovery it still felt — both mentally and physically — as if I would never heal.
It took until late in the following summer for me to be cleared to return. It was, what I would admit, a slow and difficult reintroduction. I was slower than the season before, less technical, less conditioned — all-around just a weaker athlete. The difference between the player I was then and the player I was before the injury was very noticeable to me right out the gate and it was hard for me to accept that these types of things happen after an injury of that severity.
On top of all of the competition-based stress I would feel from being, quite literally, weaker than I used to be, I had this nagging stress of re-injuring my knee. I was terrified with the idea of repeating all of what I went through and, because of those constant dreads, I was faced with a major negative impact on my mental well-being. There’s been times I decided to shut out social engagement entirely and isolate myself after being frustrated by a poor performance. There’s even been nights that I’d lose hours of sleep simply because I keep replaying negativity over and over inside my mind. It was difficult for me to remain positive throughout that time.
So, what’s the point in me telling you all of this, anyway?
Recently, I have come to find out that the typical life of a student-athlete that has traditionally been shown to the public disregards a very important element of their daily lives — mental health. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful each and every day that I get to lace up my cleats and play the sport I love for the University. But my emotional well-being has certainly been tested along the way, and I‘ll be the first to admit that I was underprepared for the reality of it.
We’ve seen major progress in the awareness of mental health in athletes over the last few years. However, many athletes at both the professional and collegiate levels have spoken out about their own mental health and how it affects both their personal and professional lives. One of the more publicized instances of a professional athlete’s mental health struggles in the last few years came from tennis player Naomi Osaka.
Making Sacrifices to Heal the Mind
Osaka, four-time Grand Slam winner, decided to step away from competition early in 2021 when she withdrew from the French Open that year. She opened up to the public about how she was having “long bouts of depression” and anxiety since 2018, and that the weight on her shoulders was far beyond the need to be relieved. The break lasted a couple of months and she returned for the Tokyo Olympics in July of the same year. Osaka claims that she “wouldn’t have wanted it any other way because [she] learned a lot during that time.”
This break was highly reported by the media and the support she received from other professional athletes was immense. On the contrary, however, many people in the industry criticized her for this move, claiming that she was “soft” and “a diva” after avoiding reporters who were questioning her decision. One particular slam came from British television personality Piers Morgan, claiming that she was “narcissistic” and “an arrogant spoiled brat.”
… Ouch.
Most athletes live their entire lives facing criticism and failure — or at least, the risk thereof. The ideology that has become commonplace is that with every “you don’t belong on the court” or “you’re not good enough to play” that an athlete receives, the more resilient their mind becomes. The same can be said about building physical strength; every rep on the bench makes you stronger, every mile you run increases your stamina, so-on and so-on. But there comes a point where you’re faced with too much resistance. You push yourself to run one last sprint and now you’ve pulled your hamstring and are faced with injury. You hide all your mental hardships below the surface and try to push through everything that’s in your mind and now your emotional fitness is taking a toll.
There is a mindset in the world of competitive athletics that “only the toughest survive” and that athletes need to stick out and work through whatever battle they may be fighting. This suppression of pain and hardships has a taxing effect on an athlete’s mind and body. It is imperative to find a balance in some way to manage mental and physical well-being.
As we saw with Naomi Osaka, there have been several student-athletes that felt the need to make the sacrifice of stepping away from competition in the sport they love for the benefit of their own personal wellness. Overall, about one-third of college athletes remove themselves from their sports at some point. In a study conducted by the British Journal of Sports Medicine, it was shown that approximately 25% of all athletes report signs of depression and negative well-being, serving as one of the more prominent reasons as to why they make the choice to leave.
Aside from mental health reasons similar to Osaka’s, another reason players step away from the game is because of stress related to academic performance and schedules outside of athletics.
Physical Time and Sleep
Collegiate sports demand a large amount of an athlete’s time each and every day. Working around their school schedules with things such as class, homework, and studying, athletes need to also dedicate time to activities including team practices, meetings, and individual training. All of these athletics-related activities can take up, on average, 28–36 hours of their week — about 4–5 hours a day. For these reasons, many student-athletes find themselves using the late hours of the night to complete their needs for class, scrambling to finish assignments or integrate at least some studying into their day.
A good night’s sleep (eight to nine hours) is something that many student-athletes see as a foreign idea. On average, in-season athletes get less than 6.5 hours of sleep a night. As we all know, with long-term lack of sleep comes several undesirable effects such as increased levels of fatigue and lethargy, reduced mental and cognitive performance, extended physical recovery periods, and decreased performance in their sport. This melting pot of problems generates a domino effect for most student-athletes, potentially leading them to subsequent injury — something that takes an even heavier toll on their mental health.
Injury
Injury is not only the most common cause for athletes to be involuntarily removed from their sport, but it is also one of the most common causes for anxiety and poor mental health. Speaking from my own experience, my knee injury proved to be one of the hardest obstacles I’ve had to overcome in my life, both mentally and physically.
Athletes have reported emotional responses including feelings of isolation, irritation, and frustration as well as instances of disengagement, lack of motivation, and changes in appetite and sleep patterns following severe injuries. These emotional responses carry over well beyond the field and into their personal lives.
In a study published by the National Library of Medicine, it was found that about one in five student-athletes that sustain a minor sport-related injury find themselves displaying symptoms of major depression or dysthymia a year after the incident. It was also reported that they found an increase in incidences of emotional disturbances well after chronic and serious injuries occur.
The relationship between depression and academic performance is obviously a negative one. On average, students that are diagnosed with depression have been noted to see a decrease in GPA of approximately 0.5 points, or half a letter grade. Not only does injury harm an athlete’s body, it also harms their grades.
Injured athletes seek support through these tough times from teammates, coaches, trainers, and loved ones. More often than not, this support is one of the greatest sources to help rebuild the motivation they may lose and work through the mental stressors they may face, helping them cope through their struggles.
Sources for Help
By no means do I want to give the impression that the life of a student-athlete is just unbearable or “not worth it;” I believe in quite the opposite idea. I can certainly say that I have learned a lot of strong lessons from which I have significantly grown both mentally and physically.
There are a lot of roadblocks and obstacles along the way, don’t get me wrong. In these moments of hardship, of course we will feel frustrated or upset with the situations in which we find ourselves. But, collegiate sports provide assistance in learning how to overcome these experiences that have the potential to improve who we are as people for the rest of our lives. If it wasn’t for being a student-athlete, I could honestly say I’d be far worse off at overcoming adversity.
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If you are a student-athlete who struggles with mental health concerns, don’t be hesitant to reach out to others for support. Doing so has helped me greatly along the way. There are plenty of resources out there to assist you as well. Check out this link to the Sport Science Institute of the NCAA to find more information.
