It was my second day in the mental institution, and I was suffering from paranoid delusions and shivering in the fetal position. All of a sudden, the nurse came into my room and told me that I had a visitor.
The guy walked in the room, and the look in his eyes said it all.
He wasn’t looking at me like, Keyon’s lost his damn mind.
He wasn’t looking at me like, Keyon’s a psychopath.
He was looking at me like, Keyon, what’s going on? What can I do to help, my friend?
It was Doc Rivers.
I will remember that look for the rest of my life.
When Doc heard that I had committed myself to the hospital, he flew up to Boston to see me, all the way from his summer house in Florida, at the drop of a hat. I can’t imagine what he must have thought, seeing me like that.
Doc asked me what was really going on. Just like he had asked me so many times before. Just like my wife had been asking me. Just like everybody close to me had been asking me.
He said, “Keyon, do you want to tell me something? What happened, son?”
I said, “I don’t know, Doc.”
I was lying, of course.
A week before, I had walked into Danny Ainge’s office and told him that I was done with basketball. Out of the blue, just like that. Done.
It didn’t make any sense. We had just lost to Miami in seven games in the 2012 Eastern Conference finals. I had just signed a new $1.4 million contract. We were a month away from training camp. I was in amazing shape, on the outside at least. Inside, I was falling apart.
My two-year-old son K.J. was with me. I took him along, because he loved coming to the gym with me. I remember holding him in my arms and telling Danny that I was done. I was telling Danny a whole lot of other things, too. Really paranoid, off-the-wall things. I was ranting about God and about the darkness all around us. Eventually, Danny made a phone call. A couple minutes later, two of my best friends on the team appeared in the doorway.
It was Rajon Rondo and Avery Bradley. They were super calm, and they did their best to get to me relax. Rajon took my son from me and told me they were going to show him around the facility. Then Avery walked me out to his car and told me he was going to drive me back home.
On the ride home, I started calling everybody in my phone — literally every number from the top — and pleading with them to find God.
I was screaming, “We’ve got to come to the Lord!”
Everyone probably thought that I had lost my mind. Everyone except for Avery, Rajon, Danny, Doc and my wife, Natosha. Sometimes a look says everything, you know what I mean? Sometimes a look means more than words.
Avery, Rajon, Danny, Doc, my wife … they all gave me the same look. In their eyes, I didn’t see judgement or fear. I only saw kindness and confusion. They just wanted to help me, because they knew that something terrible must have happened to the man they knew.
You are trapped in a nightmare. You are a caged animal now.
I will never forget that feeling of support. It saved my life. They kept saying, “It’s gonna be O.K. Let’s just get you some help.”
A few days later, I checked myself into a mental institution in Boston. I was put in a little room on the bottom floor — the area where they kept the most severe cases. Outside the door, I could hear all these people screaming and crying. I could feel the weight of suffering all around me. It was like a horror movie.
A lot of this was a blur, almost like a bad dream, because I was having paranoid delusions and hallucinations. But at one point I remember thinking very clearly:
How in the world did you get here?
You.
You, who came from nothing.
You, who made it to the very top of your field.
The NBA star.
The American dream.
I broke down weeping, and I asked God to help me.
After a few hours, I convinced the nurses that I was well enough to be moved up a few floors, to a nicer room with a window. I remember the next morning, the sunlight was streaming in, and I huddled against the window so that I could feel the warmth on my face. And I thought, At least I’m out of hell now.
Later that day, Doc came to see me, and I just decided that I’d finally had enough. I’d run away from the ghosts for so long, and they finally caught up to me in that room. I faced the truth, for the first time in my life.
Doc said, “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
I said, “Yes.”
“What’s going on, son?”
“Something bad happened to me when I was a kid. Real bad. I blocked it out. And now it’s all coming back, Doc.”
For his bravery to share his experience.
