David Johnson’s death and the depressingly inglorious uncertainties in cricket | Cricket News

PK can be seen in studios these days, speaking about mental health. The jaat boy from UP mocks the misguided machismo of repressing one’s troubled emotions and extols the virtues of sharing one’s vulnerability with the world. PK’s sermon was simple: it was OK if the nations’ superheroes were human. Many from the cricketing fraternity would follow PK’s path and share their encounter with depression and self-destruction. But, alas, not all.

The death of 1990s Indian streaker David Johnson in suspicious circumstances – Bangalore police suspect suicide – proves that there are many who hide their pain. Some may even cry out for help, but these cries for help are either not heard or simply ignored. Worryingly, there are many who are teetering on the edge of the abyss, and these are the popular, celebrated household names.

About a year after PK’s confession, Mohammad Shami, another student from UP, spoke of how injuries, marital disputes, media hype and a near-fatal road accident had pushed him to the brink. His parents, he said, did not leave him alone as he had attempted suicide three times during that time.

Even the strong are weak

Later, even the game’s highest-earning batsman of all time, Virat Kohli, said that at one point he too thought “it was the end of the world”. And the ever-smiling opening batsman Robin Uthappa also spoke about the darkest phase of his life. A seasoned professional, he said he often sat on the couch in his living room and fought against his brain, which constantly urged him to jump from the balcony. “Somehow I held myself back,” he says. If police are to be believed, Johnson, like Uthappa, could not stop his legs from taking the death leap.”

In Bangalore, his friends speak in hushed tones about his financial problems. Police have suggested he is being treated for alcoholism. The erratic, unpredictable bowler – best known for that one terribly bad ball that prompted a terrible hit from Michael Slater, but remembered for Mohammad Azharuddin’s stunning one-handed catch over his head – seemed unprepared for the problems of the real world outside the stadium.

He was not the first. In fact, cricket can be called the suicide capital of the sporting world. This claim is backed up by statistics. In no other sport do so many players willingly accept death as cricket. In his seminal book on the subject, The Silence of the Heart, cricket author and historian David Frith lays out the figures and also looks at the reasons. In contrast to the British national average of almost 1 percent, the suicide rate among English cricketers was almost 2 percent. In the book, Firth tackles the complex question about the game. “Does it (the game) gradually transform careless cricket-loving boys into brooding, insecure and ultimately self-destructive men when their best days are over?” he asks at the beginning of the book.

In a fascinating argument, he psychoanalyzes the players of this heartless sport that gives no second chances. Golf has 18 holes, tennis has five sets, football has a second half, in cricket a single mistake can incapacitate a player, he urges. “…it is not just the batsmen who wait and wait. Bowlers are tense, their strained minds and tendons playing grotesque havoc with length and direction. It may be that the very combination of passivity and activity during protracted cricket matches and careers creates a strain on the nerves that is unique in sport… prolonged periods of boredom punctuated by acute tension can be destructive,” he writes.

Agony of uncertainty

In his foreword, England’s wisest captain and trained mind guru Michael Brearley writes: “…the uncertainty of cricket is not always glorious or exciting. It can be disillusioning and frightening. Many former cricketers probably feel that a life of doing what many do as a hobby, of living a life of style and in the public eye, is a hard way down.” The book contains a telling quote from Test player Sam Palmer about the life of a cricketer after hanging up his boots – a life that PK lived in Meerut. “The trouble with making a game your profession is that you are too young at the top. The rest of the way is a gentle descent. Sometimes not so gentle. You feel so shabby, useless and old.”

Though this is written in the English context, it is true of the Indian cricket ecosystem as well. Since the BCCI has a well-structured age group system, cricketers get used to being among boys by their early teens. In the company of friends and financially independent, they travel the world doing what they like. They are not subject to parental restrictions for long periods of time and are therefore free from all domestic rules. Air tickets, hotel reservations, passport renewal, Aadhar updating – they have people to take care of the usual men’s chores. Once they retire, the perks and Men’s Fridays disappear. Those who start the day with the free breakfast at the team hotel and end it with room service meals are not prepared to deal with maids, plumbers, electricians and security guards.

This explains why former cricketers cling so much to their commentary jobs and also the popularity of the veterans’ tournament. It pays them well, keeps them on the circuit and allows them to live the life they love. Those who lack the prestige or fame to get these great jobs stay at home. With too few jobs and too many former players, the average former cricketer with swimming skills or life jackets finds themselves in the deep end.

India is not covered in Firth’s book. “Because India’s casualties are rather speculative (and comparatively small), they have not been calculated,” he writes. A deep look into the newspaper archives reveals depressing news stories hidden in obscure corners.

Do the names Amol Jichkar, Shivesh Ranjan Majumdar, Karan Tiwari and PK Dharma ring a bell? No. These are state and club level cricketers who ended their lives by hanging. Cricket did not bring them the expected rewards. Google their names to find out the stories of a former first-class cricketer’s ill-advised restaurant investment, a young IPL player’s heartbreak or a cricket dreamer turned alcoholic. Johnson’s death throws light on the less romantic side of the game. Cricket is not a fun game for those who play it.

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