Coming Back To Me

I’ve just finished reading Somerset and ex-England cricketer Marcus Trescothick’s autobiography “Coming Back To Me”. I don’t tend to read many biographies/autobiographies but as a keen follower of Somerset dating back to my teen-age years and an admirer of what Trescothick has achieved as captain and with the bat in recent years this one has always been on my list of books to read. But in truth, the main reason I was interested in reading it was because Trescothick is perhaps now best known because of his dramatic returns from overseas tours with England due to severe bouts of depression and separation anxiety (from his family). This is a topic which fascinates me and I have often thought that it is mad to expect any individual to compete at the highest level with almost no breaks in the schedule and with long spells overseas away from home. So, really, it is amazing that a lot more players haven’t cracked in the way that Trescothick did.

I found his descriptions of how he felt during his darkest moments particularly interesting, having myself experienced a few spells that were not so different to the ones he describes and also his account of the typical person who suffers depression which was somewhat like reading a description of myself. Lucky, was a word that came to my mind, when reading his book and reflecting on a couple of my own past experiences…

I think he can only be admired, not so much for writing the book, but for getting to grips with the idea that his happiness and that of his family are more important than living up to the expectations of the professional game and society’s norm for a top-level sportsman. You can only do so much and the key is to ensure that the things you do are the right ones, based on the right values.