Turning Struggles into Strengths: Navigating ADHD as an Athlete
Hey Team,
Time to talk about something that’s not often discussed openly in the athletic world but is becoming increasingly impossible to ignore...ADHD and how it can impact athletes. Outbursts on the court and difficulty handling the relentless pressure of high-level sports are increasing. And while the spotlight on these moments can make it seem like an excuse, it’s really a cry for understanding and better support.
I know this firsthand because I’ve lived it. I’ve struggled with ADHD my entire life, and when you’re in a high-stress, high-stakes environment like professional sports, those symptoms don’t just vanish...they amplify. Let me break this down.
What ADHD Looks Like in Athletes
ADHD is way deeper than just forgetting your car keys or being late to practice (though, trust me, that happens too). It's a constant battle between wanting to stay in control and feeling like your brain has other plans.
Emotional Regulation Issues: You get frustrated easily. One bad play and your mind spirals into anger or self-doubt, and before you know it, you’re reacting aggressively.
Impulsivity: That quick outburst at a ref, the overreaction to a teammate’s comment are not always conscious choices.
Difficulty Focusing: Trying to listen to a coach’s detailed game plan while your brain is bouncing between a million thoughts is nearly impossible.
Hyperfocus: On the flip side, sometimes you lock in so hard on the wrong thing (like that one missed shot) that it’s hard to move forward.
Negative Self-Talk: ADHD can make YOU your own worst enemy. Every mistake feels amplified, and the pressure to “just be better” builds to unbearable levels.
My Personal Struggles
I’ve had my fair share of on-court meltdowns and moments where my reactions cost me, whether in the form of a technical foul or ripping a towel in half with my teeth on national television. My mind would race with worst-case scenarios, and instead of thinking clearly, I’d react. My reactions weren’t always fair or productive, and I’d beat myself up for days afterward. The cycle felt endless.
The worst part though is the shame. You feel like you’re letting everyone down because you can’t seem to control it. What I’ve learned though, is ADHD isn’t an excuse, but something you have to manage intentionally.
ADHD and I have had a long, complicated relationship. As a kid, it felt like my mind was constantly running at full speed, while the world around me moved at a completely different pace. High school? Brutal. College? The beginning of it, at least, was no picnic either. I’d get overwhelmed easily. My frustration turned into outbursts. And trying to focus on classes or basketball plays felt like Henry Hill looking for helicopters in Goodfellas.
I had to work, like really hard, to find strategies to redirect my mind. Over time, I learned that ADHD isn’t some kind of death sentence, just a hurdle...but hurdles can be jumped over.
Fast forward to now. I’ve written a book. I’ve started my own business. I’ve taken this thing that used to feel like a curse and turned it into a manageable, and sometimes even useful part of who I am. That’s not to say every day is easy. Some days, the frustration still bubbles up, and I catch myself reacting too quickly or thinking too negatively. But once you've train your brain to avoid those pitfalls, it gets easier. And once you prove to yourself that you can handle it, ADHD goes from being an unbeatable enemy to just another opponent you can outwork.
That doesn’t mean it’s always pretty. Take this excerpt from my book as an example:
What I would really be known for in Australia was not the most flattering. Over the course of the year, my temper would fluctuate between This is fucking awesome to How the fuck is that a foul? quickly. Which is why I had a somewhat tumultuous relationship with referees, fans, and opposing players that year. While my interactions were not always explosive, when they were, they were spectacular.
We had just advanced to the quarterfinal where we would take a six-hour cross-continent trip to Challenge Arena, home of the Perth Wildcats and owner of the “Most difficult arena to play in Australia” label. We won our first playoff game in franchise history a few days earlier, a game where I, according to Paul Kennedy, FIBA Correspondent in Australia, “Was the star, claiming the ground under the ring at each end and continually finishing off the good work of teammates,” A quote which was without a doubt my favorite backhanded compliment I ever received. Opposing fans who once laughed at my high socks now feared me. We came into Perth as underdogs, as Perth had finished towards the top of the table that year. Now I have no proof besides the tape of the game; however, I firmly believe someone did not want us to leave Perth with a victory.
I never saw a more poorly officiated game. For nine minutes I was being roughly guarded by an assortment of Perth players, to the point where after the game I did not know whether to take a shower or a morning-after pill. Despite the physical play that was allowed on me, I was called for fouls they would not enforce in a 3rd-grade girl’s game. I played a total of nine minutes that game and fouled out. Nine minutes! That is longer than most of my sexual experiences.
Now I am not an idiot. I knew how to play this game. In fact, I knew how to play this game well enough to be in this situation. This was the quarterfinals, and in an enormous match like this, I was going to use my head and not commit dumb fouls. But something that day told me no matter what I did, I would be watching the game from the sidelines.
I felt like Brett Hart during the infamous Montreal Screwjob where Vince McMahon, unbeknownst to Hart, changed the predetermined outcome of the title match in 1997’s Survivor Series. Hart, who was supposed to retain his title, prior to leaving WWE for WCW, was part of an elaborate ruse where The Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels locked Hart into his own signature move, the Sharpshooter. The ref called for a tap out despite no tapping out occurring. Hart, irate at the screwjob, lost his mind, destroying equipment and punching Vince McMahon in the face.
I, like Brett Hart, have an animosity that I hold deep in my soul for those referees that day. Every game I played as a professional basketball player influenced future jobs. This was not just about the team that night, as we ended up winning the game and moving on to the semifinals. But selfishly, had I played a dominant game in Perth, I could have played in Australia for longer than a year. Who knows what would have happened had the “Perth Screwjob” not taken place.
I wish that I could say that was the end of the story; however, the most embarrassing part has yet to be told.
I would be referring to, as my friends like to call it, the “towel incident,” an incident which is still part of Australian lore to this day. After APPARENTLY committing my final foul, I was in a blind rage. As I walked towards the bench, I was tossed a towel to wipe off the nine minutes of sweat I had sporadically accumulated that night. I sat down at the end of the bench, ignoring the water being offered to me by our trainer, and bit down on the towel. My mind was in a particularly fragile state, and I yanked down on the towel while maintaining the death lock I still held with my teeth. The fabric of the towel had no chance against the monstrous three-way tug. It tore to shreds with remnants of the towel ending up in my hands, while a large piece dangled out of my mouth like a piece of flesh being consumed by a large predator. I spit out a chunk of fabric, threw the remaining pieces of the towel under my chair, and went back to quietly sulking.
The towel incident, as embarrassing as it was, is a reminder that ADHD doesn’t go away. But it can be managed. Over the years, I’ve built strategies to help redirect my mind and focus on what matters.
To anyone out there struggling with ADHD, let me say this...success is possible. It’s not easy, and it’s not perfect, but it’s worth it. Train your brain, build and never stop proving to yourself what you’re capable of.
Coping Mechanisms for Athletes with ADHD
If you’re an athlete struggling with ADHD, or know someone who is, there are ways to cope. Focusing more on progress instead of perfection has been my biggest difficulty. Here are some strategies that have worked for me:
Pre-Game Mindfulness: Take five to ten minutes before a game to center yourself. Deep breathing or even just sitting in silence can help slow your racing mind.
Routine Is Your Friend: Create a consistent pre-game and post-game routine. This predictability can help calm the chaos in your head.
Communication: Be upfront with your coaches and teammates. Let them know what you’re dealing with so they can better support you rather than misunderstand your actions.
Professional Support: Working with a sports psychologist or therapist who understands ADHD can make a huge difference. They can help you build mental tools to handle pressure and emotional regulation.
Focus Tools: Use visual or verbal cues to snap back into focus during games. Something as simple as repeating a mantra (“next play, next play”) can redirect your thoughts.
Nutrition and Exercise: Balanced meals and getting enough sleep all play a part in keeping your mind as sharp as possible. ADHD symptoms can worsen when you’re physically drained.
Accountability Partners: Find a teammate or friend who understands and can call you out...gently when they see you spiraling.
Celebrate Wins: ADHD often has you focusing on what went wrong. Make a conscious effort to celebrate what went right, no matter how small it feels.
Final Thoughts
ADHD doesn’t have to derail your athletic career, but it does require intentional management. And while it can feel like the deck is stacked against you sometimes, you’re not alone in this. We’re seeing more athletes share their struggles, and that’s opening doors to better understanding and resources.
If you’re feeling the weight of ADHD, reach out. Talk to someone. Build your toolbox. Because at the end of the day, your mental game is just as important as your physical one. Let’s get to work.
Cheers,
Kevin