WHY ALL HUMAN BEINGS SHOULD UNDERSTAND WHEN JARREN DURAN SAYS, “F— ‘EM”
He tried to commit suicide two years ago and failed, allowing him to focus on mental health, returning as an important member of the Red Sox while scribbling his new life watchword on his left wrist
Jarren Duran tried to shoot himself. He was sick of the fans in Boston and didn’t want to play baseball. The world, too, no longer was navigable beyond Wally from Woburn and the ratings yappers at 98.5. “I was sitting in my room, I had my rifle and I had a bullet and I pulled the trigger and the gun clicked,” he said, making us gasp, “but nothing happened.”
Here he is today, two years later, an American League All-Star and a vital member of the Red Sox. “Talking about this wasn't easy, but it felt important,” Duran said Tuesday after he spoke about the attempt on a Netflix docuseries. “I knew that if I was going to share this, I had to be real about it. A few years ago, I found myself in a dark place, but I'm still here, and I'm so lucky I am.
“And if my story can help even one person, then it was worth telling.”
His courage will help society and the sports incinerator, which doesn’t always grasp the meaning of suicide. Thanks to Duran, how many of us began to ponder the inferno of self-destruction? Once, I was asked by a reporter at a restaurant if I ever tried to take my life. I had not, and at first, I wanted to know why he fired an inquiry with his tape recorder between us. Then I knew. He was with a slime website trying to grab a headline after I’d spent decades as a big-city columnist and an ESPN daily panelist. I smiled and ordered nachos and a beer.
For me. Not for him.
It was my latest F— ‘em moment. This is my way of overcoming the louts — and in the media business, a lout is a twisted understatement — and it’s nice to see Jarren Duran discovering the same clapback before every game. “On my left wrist, I write, ‘F— ‘em,’ because it's me telling my demons, ‘You're not going to faze me’,” he said. “And on my right wrist, I write, ‘Still alive’ because I'm still here and I'm still fighting.”
Anyone who reads me knows about the strange battles I’ve had, perhaps similar to yours. F— ‘em is the only way out when publishers, editors, programming directors and colleagues are rude, crude and unprofessional. Other targets say nothing and try to avoid trouble. I said F— ‘em to a Chicago newspaper and handed back seven figures. I said F— ‘em to a broadcast executive when I refused to stop criticism of the White Sox and Bulls, requiring him to fire me. I said F— ‘em to John Skipper, the ESPN boss who was busted for cocaine, when a writer wanted me to comment.
And when the media industry has refused to ask appropriate questions about a court date of mine 15 years ago? I have one reply for outlets that still don’t know we prevailed regarding civil actions in an expunged case — say the words — and hope they never deal with unfair trash on Google and Wikipedia. I’ve worked in a trade where people love to talk and talk and talk when they never get anything right. Those people have talked and talked and talked and still don’t understand the truth. The public doesn’t care much about media vs. media, I realize. Media should care. They don’t, which is why they fail.
But Duran? He is earning compassion in New England. Last year, he fired an anti-gay slur at a fan. Now people are absorbing the complete story. “Jarren's decision to share his story is an act of courage that reaches far beyond baseball,” Red Sox president and CEO Sam Kennedy said. “By opening up, he's showing others who may be struggling that they're not alone and that asking for help isn't just OK. It's essential. Every member of this organization continues to stand with him. He has our deepest admiration, he's always had our full support and we're incredibly fortunate to have him as part of our team.”
Loons keep gambling via DraftKings and root foolishly for their teams. They must see life through the fun and games. “I couldn't deal with telling myself how much I sucked every day," Duran said in the docuseries. “I was already hearing it from fans. And what they said to me, I haven't told myself 10 times worse in the mirror. That was a really tough time for me. I didn't even want to be here anymore.
“I feel like people see us as zoo animals sometimes, in this big ole cage. They throw popcorn at you, get a picture with you, get your attention, scream your name. Sometimes some fans take it too seriously. I feel like they cross the line when they talk about my mental health and make fun of me for that, calling me weak. It triggers me when you start talking about my mental health. Part of it is that loneliness. Some people deal with it better than others. I remember going through it and you start losing a couple of games and you’re not doing good, it feels like the world is kind of creeping in on you.”
Red Sox manager Alex Cora is listening with ears and eyes wide open. He must chill, as the clubhouse leader. “Since I learned about it, me as a person, I’ve been giving him support, love,” he said. “I’m somebody that he can talk to. That door’s always open. The relationship has grown throughout the years. Obviously, a lot of private conversations about the subject. I truly believe that him opening up is going to help a lot of people. It takes a person with courage and being transparent and genuine to do that. I hope that’s how we see it — that he will impact others and he’s going to save lives.”
His parents, Octavio and Dena Duran, are heartbroken. “We are beyond grateful that he is still here, that he has found the courage to keep going, and that he is using his voice to help others,” they said Tuesday. “If his story can help even one person, then it was worth sharing. We are incredibly proud of the man he is today and love him more than words can say. We will always be in his corner.”
With guidance, Duran is working on himself, each hour of each day. “My inner demons don’t let me love myself or want to be proud of myself, that’s something I’m still working on,” he said. “I think God just didn't let me take my own life because I seriously don't know why it didn't go off. I took it as a sign of, ‘I might have to be here for a reason,’ so that's when I started to look myself in the mirror after the gun didn't go off. I was like, ‘Do I want to be here, or do I not want to be here?’ That happened for a reason and obviously you're here for a reason, so let's be the way you want to be and play (the way) you want to play and live the way you want to live.”
He is succeeding. Monday night, he played at Fenway Park and had two doubles and a walk for a 6-5 ballclub. When he has doubts, he can stare at his left wrist.
F— ‘em.
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Jay Mariotti, called “without question the most impacting Chicago sportswriter of the past quarter-century,’’ writes general sports columns for Substack while appearing on some of the 1,678,498 podcasts and shows in production today. He is an accomplished columnist, TV panelist and talk/podcast host. Living in Los Angeles, he gravitated by osmosis to film projects.