The Social Disease That Strikes 19 Million

Jerry Seinfeld once had a joke, based on truth.  He said that the #1 fear of Americans was speaking in public.  #2 was death.  "So you'd rather be in the casket than giving the eulogy."

Noboby knows you better than yourself, and chances are, you're one of those folks who prefers to sit and watch the Broadway play rather than act it out on the stage.  Because you're you, the person who gets all sweaty when it comes to standing up at Thanksgiving dinner because somebody asked you to give a toast.  You're you, the best man who almost said no to the gig because it meant you had to give a speech in front of 200 people.  Now imagine you're a baseball player who performs in front of 20,000 to 50,000 people each night.  Imagine you're 20 years old and have to do that.  You're not some cocky guy from the movies.  You're you.  Chances are, you'd fail miserably.

This isn't a hypothetical.  In 2006, Kansas City Royals pitcher Zack Geinke was diagnosed with Social Anxiety Disorder.  And on June 29th of this year, St. Louis Cardinals shortstop Khalil Greene was placed on the 15-day disabled list with the same thing.  Each player deals with the disorder differently.  In Greinke's case, he said performing in front of 30,000 people isn't the hard part.  "Talking about it is."

Social Anxiety Disorder is, basically, a fear of social situations.  When you have a job that is in the public eye, this disorder and your job don't make good bedfellows.

Fans dream of the ability to throw a ball 99 miles per hour, or muscle a ball 408 feet over the centerfield wall, or make a diving catch in the stands, maybe getting a bloody lip out of the process.  They don't think about the fact that, if they could do these things, they'd be watched.  They'd be watched by everybody in the stands: friends, family, strangers.  They'd be watched on TV.  Their names would be thrown around on the radio like a ball post-strikeout.  Their stats would be analyzed by fantasy geeks and their names taken in vain when the inevitable error occurs.  When dreaming, nobody's thinking about how they'd react to the cheers or the boos or the negative headlines or hard-hitting media.  They're thinking of the smooth glide to the Hall of Fame.

For guys like Greinke and Greene, it's the opposite.  When they don't have a handle on their minds and emotions, they can't perform.  They can't do what they've trained themselves to do for 20+ years.  They can't throw.  They can't hit.  They can't catch.  Greinke's teammate Brian Bannister suggested, half-jokingly, that Greinke might have pitched badly sometimes just so he wouldn't have to deal with the pressures of success.

What's even more interesting is neither Greinke or Greene plays in a major media market. Kansas City and St. Louis (and also formerly San Diego for Greene until this season) are not world hotspots for TV, radio, internet and print.  Imagine having the disorder with 5 members of the media in the locker room after the game.  Now add another 20, or more, if you're in New York, Boston or LA.  That's just more pressure, pressure to talk about your failures or successes, pressure to be seen by exponentially more people than paid to buy tickets at the stadium that night.  It weighs down on you more and more.  It takes away the fun.  It takes away your sanity.  You're a shell of who you thought you'd be at this point in your life.  You should be at the top of your game and you just want to quit.

So how do you get better?  How do you overcome this?  First, you need time.  It can take years to change the way you think; the way you deal with certain situations.  You need counseling and time to talk (ironic that you may have a fear of speaking yet that's one of the only ways to cure yourself).  You could take medication too. The most important thing, however, is time.  Zack Greinke was diagnosed in 2006 with Social Anxiety Disorder.  It took until the end of the 2008 season for him to finally start to master his game.  For Greene, it's likely going to take a lot longer than 15 days.

Next time you dream of playing in front of the crowds, of standing in the box with the bases loaded and two outs, down by two, in Game 7 of the World Series, pretend for one moment that you're you, the regular American who'd rather be in the casket than giving the eulogy.  Then imagine how you'd feel facing 99 mph heat.  Not so easy anymore, is it?