Paul Green’s death prompts a cricket legend to open up about mental health strategies

“Justin, if you knew the demons going on within my brother’s mind, dying may well have been the best thing for him.”

These words shocked me at the time, but in many ways, they were my initiation into the world of mental illness.

A world I had no real comprehension of until that confronting confession above from a sad sibling telling me the truth of a schoolmate of mine who had taken his own life. A friend I mistakenly thought I knew quite well. Also, a mate I had no idea was suffering so badly.

Paul Green, a legend of rugby league, succumbed to a similar fate in Brisbane a fortnight ago. His death has again shone a light on mental health and illness in our country. His funeral on Tuesday looked heartbreaking.

By chance, I was invited last week, to speak at a luncheon for the inspirational charity Zero2Hero. In preparation for my presentation, I met with founder and CEO Ashlee Harrison. I had known of Ashlee when she was awarded young West Australian of the Year in 2016 for her commitment to youth suicide and metal health, through Zero2Hero.

Ashlee told me: “Prevention is more effective than cure. Like with any health issue, treating an illness at the beginning — or better preventing it from even occurring — provides a far greater opportunity for health, wellbeing and success.

“To prevent skin cancer, we go for a skin check and slip, slop, slap. To prevent cavities, we regularly go for dental check-ups, brush our teach and avoid sugar. To prevent prostate or breast cancer we attend check-ups when we reach the risk age bracket.

“Mental illness should be treated the same, regular check-ups or check ins, making decisions that support our mental health and treating an illness proactively when or if it arises.”

The statistics are sobering. Suicide remains the leading cause of death for Australians aged 15-44. It’s estimated that more than 65,000 Aussies attempt suicide each year. Tragically, 480 young people in Australia took their lives in 2020. Almost nine Australians die every day by suicide.

All this in the ‘lucky’ country we live in. It just doesn’t make sense.

In my speech at the luncheon, I described my lack of authority to discuss mental illness. I’m not a doctor, psychiatrist or psychologist. But I am a person, just like you, who hits a hurdle every now and then. It’s part of life as a human being.

So, instead, I talked about my strategies for maintaining mental health. Learning these strategies comes from wearing a number of different hats over the years.

For example, living in a world of professional sport where winning is demanded came with immense internal and external pressure.

Being a dad to four daughters, where the perils of social media and perfectionism are tangible. Where bullying is rife. And cruel. Where so many kids simply feel like they can’t escape. It must be very lonely.

In this world where there is so much focus on mental health, maybe the best prevention is to be kind and gentle on ourselves.

And as a head coach, where I was blown away by the number of young men who have cried in my office as they describe the pressure they’re feeling. Most think they are supposed to be living the dream?

Back in 2009, the year after I retired from playing cricket, I remember having a discussion at the Coogee Bay Hotel in Sydney with a great young mate and cricket prodigy, Robbie Baker.

I distinctly remember him saying to me: “I just wish I was as mentally tough as you were JL.”

Just as clearly I remember putting down my glass of red wine and fighting back every single instinct to give my friend a hug, and telling him: “If only you knew mate.”

Robbie, a handsome, talented, terrific young bloke, had suffered from chronic fatigue syndrome for years. With such a long illness came the natural bouts of depression and anxiety. Recently, he opened up in an excellent and comprehensive article for Cricket Australia. In it, he talked about whether life was even worth living during that debilitating time.

Chatting with him again this week, Robbie told me how he has learnt that, “we often neglect the person in the quest for perfection and performance. Mental toughness in professional sport was defined as striving, working harder, focusing and achieving anything you put your mind to. But, there is so much more to it than just that”.

I’m sure this can be the same in the corporate world. Bottom lines. Climbing the corporate ladder. Strive, strive, strive. But at the expense of what?

So back to my “if only you knew mate” moment at the Coogee Bay Hotel.

What I’ve learnt is that we are all human. Even the best of us have our doubts, insecurities, fears, anxieties and worries. How do I know I this? Because, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. The greats and the highest achievers — who wear a mask or often pull on an armour — are as human and susceptible as anyone.

I also know it because I have lived with it all my adult life. The mask. The armour. Without my strategies, those two critical friends simply hide the underbelly of fear and insecurity.

So, what have I learnt?

In 1992, Wesley Snipes and Woody Harrelson starred in the movie, White Men Can’t Jump. My take on this title is, Aussie Men Don’t Talk. Thinking you can go it alone and bottle up your thoughts and emotions is like poisoning your system.

Dealing with your own mental health is incredibly complex but here are a five of many strategies that have helped me through the journey.

Firstly, for the men out there: talk, talk, talk. Whether with your mates, your family or a specialist, talking is like spewing out cancer.

For some this might be uncomfortable, but the sooner you can get comfortable being uncomfortable the freer you will feel. That’s my experience anyway.

In 2001, having been dropped from the Australian team in England, I did what a lot of Aussie blokes would do. Work. Strive. Practise more. Try harder. Introvert. Retract from the tribe — in my case the team. The result? Consistent failures, miserable experiences and eventually a blow-up.

After another failure, I walked into the change room, grabbed Adam Gilchrist — one of my best mates — by the scruff of the neck and said: “Look what you guys have done to me!”

Of course, they hadn’t done anything to me, I had brought it all on myself, I just needed someone to blame. Gilly was the vice-captain and one of the selectors on the tour, so he became the target.

A few hours later, Gilly and the coach John Buchanan dragged me into the hotel bar. For the next three hours I drank beer and talked. What a magical therapy. When we had finished John gave me a hug. More magic.

Ten days later later I opened the batting for Australia for the first time. The rest is history. A miracle really considering the hole I was in just a week-and-a-half before.

The lesson? Talk, talk, talk. Let it out. If you think you can go it alone, think again.

Strategy number two. Be clear in your purpose. I believe you should be able to write your purpose on the palm of your hand. This can change. Nothing is permanent in this life. But the philosophy is sound.

When I was a player, my purpose was to be the best player I could be. Simple. Get balanced in my stance and watch the ball like a hawk. This inspired me every day to get better. It also helped me stay focussed though the inevitable tough times.

While coaching the Australian cricket team my purpose was to make Australians proud of the team. Simple. Again, this inspired me every day and helped me through the toughest times.

Be clear in your purpose. Keep it simple, and make sure it is what inspires you and makes you happy.

Thirdly, learn to meditate. In 1993, veteran New Zealand opening batsman John Wright sat next to me in a change room. With a stubbie of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, he said: “I have been watching you young man. You need to learn relax. You’re too serious and you’re trying way to hard. I recommend you learn transcendental meditation.”

“Transcendental what?” I replied, nearly falling off my chair. A few weeks later, having been dropped for the 1993 Ashes series, I read in the West Australian newspaper an advertisement saying. “Learn Transcendental Meditation.” The universe speaking?

I drove to Smyth Road, Claremont and a man named Dereck taught me how to meditate. I have meditated every day since. It’s hard to intellectualise what it does. But it has certainly been a game-changer in my life.

Strategy number four: Be disciplined with social media. When it gets out of balance and becomes an addiction, you’ve got a problem. Succinctly, you don’t need strangers telling you how good you are. More importantly, you don’t need them telling you how bad you are. Let your loved ones do that. They’re the ones that really matter.

And, finally, laugh a lot. Surround yourself with people who make you laugh. Laughter is like medicine. It is also the music of all the great environments I have been a part of in my life. I always knew if I was happy off the field, I was usually successful on it.

In this world where there is so much focus on mental health, maybe the best prevention is to be kind and gentle on ourselves, while teaching our kids simple and effective coping strategies to live a free and happy life.