Before the NBA introduced mandatory mental health programs, before therapists were added to team staff, before players started publicly addressing anxiety and depression, there were already victims. Michael Beasley was one of them.

His pain came raw, unchecked, and buried under years of silence.

Beasley had always been a gifted talent — he ranked No. 1 in the high school class of 2007, ahead of Derrick Rose, James Harden, and Blake Griffin.

He averaged 26.2 points and 12.4 rebounds per game at Kansas State University.

He was drafted No. 2 overall in 2008 behind Rose and just ahead of Russell Westbrook and Kevin Love.

Beasley shutting down

Everything was set for a successful NBA career for Beasley. What followed, however, wasn’t a fairy tale.

His NBA journey became a patchwork of team changes, suspensions and off-court struggles.

And somewhere in that unraveling narrative, his cries for help were mistaken for attitude problems.

“I don’t talk to nobody,” Beasley said. “I’ve reached out and I’ve reached out so much that I have to die with some kind of dignity.”

Beasley’s silence wasn’t always by choice. Over time, isolation became his only consistent companion.

After losing his mother to cancer in 2018 — a woman he once called his everything — something in him gave way.

There was a time she came to every game. She wasn’t just his support system.

She was the only person who truly understood what he carried. Her death shattered whatever guardrails he had left. But his battles didn’t begin there.

As early as 2009, Beasley checked into a rehab facility amid suspicions of substance use.

That same summer, he posted a cryptic photo that sparked mental health concerns.

Back then, the league hadn’t yet developed the vocabulary to address what that really meant.

Beasley became a cautionary tale before he had the chance to become a success story.

His talent was never in question.

He put up 19.2 points per game in the 2010–11 season with the Minnesota Timberwolves.

In 2013, he had a solid stint with the Heat, even making the NBA Finals alongside LeBron James.

But every comeback was shadowed by controversy: marijuana suspensions, locker room rumors and erratic behavior.

What wasn’t often reported was the isolation that trailed each one.

A system that looked away

Even friends and extended family who might have offered support seemed to keep their distance. Maybe the past controversies scared them off.

Maybe they were waiting for Beasley to clean up his act.

But what he needed wasn’t judgment.

He needed sincerity. Someone to sit beside him without pulling away at the mention of pain.

“I know it’s not sustainable, but at the same time, who do I go out with?” Beasley said.

“I’ve been trying to find good people for so long, I’m tired, bro.”

This is the same league that now proudly promotes mental wellness with initiatives like Mind Health and NBA Cares.

But a decade ago, the culture perhaps rewarded stoicism and punished vulnerability.

Players were expected to be machines — explosive on the court, emotionless off it. Beasley paid the price for breaking that mold.

He once shared a locker room with Kevin Durant during their youth.

They were AAU teammates, close as brothers. But over the years, even that bond frayed.

As Beasley bounced from the NBA to China and back again, he often played in empty gyms, away from the spotlight, far from the friends who once surrounded him.

In China, he was a star, averaging 28 points per game.

But none of that translated into emotional stability. Basketball kept his name alive. But the man behind the stats was fading.

This story was originally reported by Basketball Network on Jun 7, 2025, where it first appeared.