Ryan: Mental health must no longer be a taboo among boxers

Ryan Whitehead (left)…setting up a support group

IT is the hidden enemy, the hidden darkness, haunting boxers, past and present.

Mental health is the unspoken demon. Yet a surprisingly larger number of fighters and former fighters struggle with the “black dog”, as Churchill referred to depression.

In the past weeks, light-middle Brett Egan and former middle Dan Breeze have opened up to me about their own battles. There are many more out there.

On reflection, it is hardly surprising. Active boxers live highly regimented lives: they are told when to run, how far to run, what to eat, when to sleep, when to rise…

It’s a life dictated by time and numbers.

When cut free from the thick chains of that regimented existence, when the adrenaline rush of ring warfare ends, some replace adulation with addiction, some turn to drink and drugs, some struggle mentally to adjust to a life more ordinary.

It is very easy to become lost.

Not many admit it.

When a ring career ends there is a gaping hole in the lives of participants.

In the gym, it’s a hard illness to confess to. Yet it is there, unspoken.

Boxers are programmed to disguise weakness and they consider mental health issues a weakness.

Unbeaten Telford super-middleweight Ryan Whitehead, whose Midland title challenge last month was scuppered by injury to his opponent, has been there. He has, for years, battled depression and attempted to ease the burden through booze.

The 29-year-old is now helping others.

Next Sunday, July 30, at Slammers Boxing Gym, Cockshutt Lane, Broseley, he holds the first “talking circle” for men – not just boxers – who have struggled in silence.

Ryan has been helped by a similar, Wolverhampton organisation called Mandem Meet-Up and wants to bring the same service to his own area.

Those taking part in the free-of-charge, 6pm session, will share their issues and partake in zero contact boxing sessions.

“I have no degree in mental health,” he said, “but I feel I have a degree in life, I understand people.”

It’s something, but not enough, he stressed. He wants greater contact between the Boxing Board of Control and ex-boxers, he wants a charity set-up for those fighters struggling with mental health.

Ryan admits he’s been to a dark place and is still struggling.

He told me: “I don’t know if I’ll ever box again. I’ve channelled my focus on personal training and that’s helped me greatly.

“A lot of lads, when the stop training, get lost, they don’t know what to do with themselves and that’s when drink and drugs come into it. You have lads who have a poor quality of life, yet know they shouldn’t be living that lifestyle.

“I’m still paranoid about what I eat, but I’ll never drink alcohol again, that’s because when you drink you don’t know what version of you will appear.

“When Covid hit, I was in a serious state, depressed and I was drinking a lot. I put four stone on my fighting weight. I was out for two years.

“We need something in place where someone gives you a buzz and asks how you are coping away from boxing.

“Paul Mann (trainer at BCB) helped me by doing zoom circuits, but there needs to be something in place.”

Mental health issues remain a taboo in boxing, Ryan feels.

“You expect a professional boxer to be strong, he’s the big man,” he said. “It’s the world we are in. I trained three times a day, twice on my own. I’d be on the scales three or four times a day. It’s a lonely place.”

For those attending next Sunday, Ryan issued an assurance: “I know how it feels to be that lonely. Not talking makes you weaker than talking.

“Men no longer need to bottle up their emotions, hide their feelings or resort to drugs/alcohol to forget the pain.”