Jonathan Trott’s admission of suffering from depression, and his subsequent departure home, has disturbed the romanticism of cricket: of a game that started as a recreation on the lawns of palatial homes and the highlight of the day’s play was the break at 4 o’clock for tea and scones. Till even a few years ago, it was impossible to think that the sport could harbour something as serious and severe in the minds of those who play. In practice, cricket — more than any other sport — is unfortunately and inadvertently designed to feed the demons of depression.

Trott’s case has thrown up apprehensions that more players might be afflicted by mental health illnesses such as depression, but either haven’t recognised it or are afraid to admit it. Their apprehensions likely stem not just from a fear of their long-term capability being doubted by the coach and selectors, but also for anticipated ridicule at the hands of loved ones or colleagues can bring on, especially in societies such as ours.

The stigma attached to depression stems from the fact that the illness is deeply misunderstood. Depression, to put it simply, is considered a silent killer. It is a mental health condition, whose life-threatening nature is now recognised as being as dangerous as cancer or the clogging of arteries. The common everyday use of the term “depression” is a misnomer: while depression is commonly thought of as feeling sad for a few hours after a loss of a neighbourhood game or an unsatisfactory exam, it is much more severe and sinister than that. Depression tends to stifle the human brain in exactly the same manner as a rope tied around the ankles holds a person from walking. A person who suffers from depression is likely to experience intense emotions of anxiety, hopelessness, negativity and helplessness.

Cricket, by design, feeds the demons of depression. No other sport stretches play over more than four to five hours, and very rarely is a sportsperson required to play over five consecutive days. Most tours are brief, often held over the weekend. Cricketers are thrust into a life of solitude, and their sporting successes and failures tend to impact their self-worth and mental health.

Imagine sitting in the back of the dressing room for hours, at times over two days, following an early dismissal or a long partnership by your batting colleagues, and after you’ve been totally unimpressive and ineffective while bowling. Or imagine living out of a monotonously similar hotel room, often alone, when you are away from close family and friends for weeks on end, halfway across the world. In such situations, one only has themselves to speak to. If something is gnawing at you, the dressing or hotel room can reflect a cell in solitary confinement. Imagine the toll on mental health, when a sportsperson falters or fails, where even a fleeting realisation that all that is currently gold can turn into dust overnight.

Trott is not the first English player to publicly accept that he suffers from depression. Some seven to eight years ago, it was another English player — in fact their captain at the time, Marcus Trescothick, who returned home within days of the start of the tour of India. He had flown home in earlier tours as well, with the English management citing personal problems as cause for his return home. Eventually, the episodes reached such apocalyptic proportions that it was not possible to hide from the media any more. The English chose to acknowledge the case before it became fodder for any kind of sensationalism.

After Trescothick came their off spinner, Yardy, who some will remember as having been thrashed mercilessly in the 2011 World Cup in India. Sometime later, Yardy revealed that he had totally lost it due to his depression and quit the England side. Even Andrew Flintoff has been linked with the illness while a few county players as well have departed during a period which oblivious observers have believed to be their prime.

Perhaps it is because English society is less masochistic, and more tolerant and empathetic, that English players have been able to own up to their mental illness and find support from their community. The case for Australia or Pakistan, for example, is different: such a debilitating health condition is often misconstrued for a fragile personality, even societal scorn.

It is extremely important therefore that Pakistani cricketers must be constantly monitored for symptoms of depression. Ours is sadly an intolerable society, where myths still carry the same weight as forensic science. Our cricket is infected with nepotism and even gang sarcasm directed at a player who is considered unwanted for various reasons. There is no outlet for the man other than, paradoxically, his inner self, which is much like sharing a cage with a hungry lion.

We talk of cricketers needing to build mental toughness but there is no institution or a process which monitors a cricketer at international, let alone at the first class level. To suggest psychological help to a cricketer here is akin to recommending time in the asylum. With the game becoming knife edge competitive, a whole lifestyle at stake and a probing, unrelenting media, Pakistani cricketers are high risk targets.

And yet, much like any other ailment, there are practitioners and doctors who are trained to help those suffering from mental health issues. Looking at the symptoms, I can think of several cricketers who have clearly been a victim of depression without being aware of it, even after they have had to quit the game. It is imperative that PCB and regional associations recognise that this needs to be addressed as crucially as physical fitness, and arrange for regular sessions for players displaying the signs. Who knows how many Trotts we are carrying. Let’s get to them before depression does.

The writer is a business consultant and a former CEO and board member. He is an author and cricket writer by choice for over 30 years and has served as editor of Asian edition of The Cricketer International, UK.