What Were They Thinking takes a human approach to sports. It usually takes the less conventional opinion and tries to make sense of what an athlete was truly thinking.
While watching the Bulls beat the Mavs on Saturday, normally thinking “Man, if these Mavs had a healthy Odom, taking up Vinsani-too-worn-to-be-Vinsanity’s minutes, they’d be right in this. Probably ahead. Why doesn’t he just play? What’s this dude’s deal?” – but instead I was thinking “I totally get it. I totally see why he’s not playing.”
Before the season, Lamar was caught on his reality show saying things like:
“I am tired and I am a little bit out of shape physically and mentally. It is bothersome.”
“This is the first time basketball has felt like a job, like, you know what I mean?”
“It is the first game of the season and I feel anxiety to perform at a high level and do my job well.”
“My body’s not responding.”
Most thoughts I’ve seen in response to this behavior have been along the lines of “What the &$%#?!?! This dude makes millions to play basketball. What could be so wrong? What could be so crappy in his life that he can’t go out there and have fun on the court with a great group of guys, under an awesome coach, overseen by a charismatic owner willing to drop hella dough on quality players?”
What, you don’t say “hella?”
And that was pretty much my take until about two weeks ago, when I had my first anxiety attack. I had no idea what it was. It felt like a heart attack. Heart pumping. Left arm pain. Throat closing. Thought I was gonna die. I was grabbing my chest like an SNL SuperFan after choking down a Polish. Figured I was through.
Bye, bye life.
Too bad I couldn’t say bye to ma.
But I didn’t die. It was just, a panic. And I’m not depressed. My life is great. I have wonderful opportunities to do awesome things.
But I over think everything. Every decision I make is scrutinized by my own conscious. I don’t want to mess anything up. Ever. From my writing to my hair. I want it all to be perfect. All the time. Because if it’s not, I think disasters will happen.
I better get this column title right. Could grab me a couple more readers. But what if I don’t get more readers? What if my title sucks? What if everybody hates my writing? Do I even know how to write? Am I wasting my time?
Is this crazy? Yeah.
Is this how I think all the time? No.
Do I want to think this way? No.
Do I have any control over it? Depends on how you define “control.”
There are things I can do to decrease my chances of spiraling, and I definitely feel like I’m on my way to ridding myself of these things.
But I eat super clean. No cheat meals. I barely hang out on the internet. I don’t watch TV. I meditate, at least an hour, sometimes two, a day. I have to be present in at all moments of the day, from chopping carrots to writing about the past. I cut out any bs. Sometimes I avoid a party if I’m feeling negatively amped.
It’s a full time job to avoid anxiety attacks.
And you can’t just look at an attack and say “Whatever, it’s fine, I won’t die.” Because it tricks your mind. You actually feel like you’re gonna die.
So now let’s take this back to Lamar. He’s on the biggest stage of his profession, the world, even. He has cameras following him around 24/7, trying to catch the most dramatic parts of his life, probably even trying to provoke them. He’s got an uber-famous wife with uber-famous sisters who are all, in the eyes of the public, insane. Mark Cuban is breathing down his neck, saying he’s “not committed.” His teammates are frustrated. And on top of all that, I’m sure he has all these other obligations like charities, functions, parties, etc, that drag him every which way, giving him zero time to himself.
If I were him, I’d step away too.
I’ve had to. And I have barely any obligations, especially none compared to a metropolis of 6.7 million, a TV network, 1.7 million viewers (on Sunday alone), a crazy family, an organization coming off their greatest season ever…
So I can now see why he took time away, away from being locked down. Why he needed to clear his head. I wouldn’t be surprised if we never heard from him again.
In fact, I’d think that would be pretty cool.
“Hey guys, basketball’s cool and all, but it’s time for me to move on. Time for me to go. I’ve found a monastery in Nepal. I can’t be reached. At all. It’s been real.”
Because I think about doing that sort of thing all the time.
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