Cricket: Trott reminder of pressures

Martin Crowe. Photo / Natalie Slade

Martin Crowe played his entire career behind a mask - a coping mechanism to operate in an environment he was talented enough (and then some) to belong in, but mentally ill-equipped for.

"As time went by I completely lost touch with that warm-hearted kid from Titirangi," he wrote in Cricinfo this week. "Instead I became an aloof, intense, moody son of a bitch from New Zealand."

The mask slipping is as good a rationale as any for Jonathan Trott's sudden and shocking exit from the Ashes tour of Australia, after twin failures in a first test pockmarked by ugly, almost feral behaviour.

It is okay to wonder if Trott would have been clearing Customs quite as quickly if he had scored runs at the Gabba ... but at the same time it is irrelevant.

Mental health problems are triggered by a number of factors. It makes sense that failure to do your job - and let's not forget that professional sport is exactly that, a job - would be a significant trigger point, but it would not be the only one.

Why Trott's absence marks a giant leap forward is that there has been no shying away from the issue; no hastily written lies about hamstring strains or "family issues" to attend to back home.

Trott was not coping. As a batsman, he needs absolute clarity of thinking to succeed. His second innings dismissal - hitting into a neon-signposted trap - was the result of a scrambled brain.

It might seem a trite comparison, but just as a flanker would find it impossible to perform well with a broken ankle, a batsman finds it difficult to operate with a broken mind.

This wasn't a case of being able to "knuckle down" and "harden up". He needed help and an Ashes series was not the place to be receiving that support.

And the feedback to that decision has been almost entirely positive. Hallelujah.

Recently I wrote a series of articles on mental health issues in sport.

The principal focus of those articles was cricket, about the unique idiosyncrasies of the sport that seem to toy with emotions like no other.

More than 20 cricketers out of New Zealand's semi- and professional pool of around 100 cricketers had sought clinical help in the past few years.

Statistically, that is no greater than the general population but we've been conditioned to think of professional athletes as immune to the "flaws" of mere mortals. After all, a healthy body equals a healthy mind.

The supremely fit Trott is just another example of that mantra's lie.

"If you're not feeling mentally at your best you shouldn't see that as a moral failing and that's been such a strong narrative in our culture: the scorn and the stigma," said Hugh Norriss, director of policy and development at the Mental Health Foundation.

"They are weak people who get stressed who just need to harden up and snap out of it."

Lou Vincent and Iain O'Brien are New Zealand cricketers of recent vintage who will tell you depression and other mental health issues are not something you snap out of. There are several playing now who are not ready to tell their stories yet but will have similar testimonies. So will Marcus Trescothick, Steve Harmison, Andrew Flintoff and any number of professional cricketers throughout the pages of Wisden.

Mainly through the work of the various players' association, teams are getting much better at becoming aware when one of their own is at breaking point.

More importantly, individuals are recognising their own symptoms and are seeking help, rather than hiding behind hotel room curtains or the fog of alcohol.

That is why Trott's story is far more than poignant, it is important.

The mask slipped, and he's not in a rush to put it on again.