"Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know." -- Ernest Hemingway
This was in 2008 and David Harrison wanted to die. It had just become too much for the former Pacers' center, the constant barrage of emotional distress visited upon him by former coach Jim O'Brien, the frustration with being buried on the bench, the sting of unfulfilled expectations, the depression and anxiety and anger issues borne of a difficult, tough-love type of childhood, all balled up like a fist in his overactive mind.
So he would walk along the balcony of his downtown Indianapolis high rise, and he would actively contemplate the eternal serenity a long jump might provide.
"I was on antidepressants and they were messing with my head," Harrison said. "I lived on the top floor in the Riley Towers and I would walk out onto the balcony and walk onto the banister. I didn't want to live. I mean, I was legitimately thinking of ending my life. I wanted to play and didn't want to sit on the bench anymore. I had the $20 million man (Jermaine O'Neal) in front of me, so they weren't going to give me his job. I wanted out of Indy. I begged for trades. I begged for them to send me to the D League. Get me away from (then-head coach Jim) O'Brien, get me away from JO (O'Neal), get me away from all of them."
Then Harrison, a thoughtful soul, took a very brave and difficult step. He checked himself into the Palmetto rehab facility in Louisiana. Not for a 30-day Band-Aid, but for a full 180 days. Six full months. Of therapy. Of meetings. Of dealing with his demons, his drinking and drugging but mostly the issues he was masking with alcohol, marijuana and women. Anger. Fear. There were childhood issues, specifically beatings he suffered at the hands of his NFL player/father Dennis Harrison, that had to be addressed.
"When I first went to rehab, they diagnosed me with paranoid schizophrenia," he said, shaking his head. "I went for me. I would take it to the point where I was so angry about things and I'd deal with it by doing something really dumb -- and you can substitute dumb with drugs, substitute dumb with girls. It wasn't a good pattern. But then you get in there and you think you have so much crap going on and you're so important, and then you hear other people's stories…man.
"I think what I learned most is that I actually care about people. The others there would look at me and get angry -- 'You've got everything in life, why are you here?' Well, I'm here because I'm just as messed up as you are. It helps you appreciate life. And I came to grips with me and my father. We had these meetings when he would come down and he'd have to hear all the crazy stuff I did, and he cried when he heard those stories. That's what made me want to be better. I wanted to show him you didn't (mess) me up. I can't blame him. He didn't have a father. He had nothing to compare to. And he apologized to me, which was a big thing for both of us."
Harrison is in a much better place emotionally, but it hasn't been easy. He was dropped by the Pacers after his fourth year, then played in China for two years and in the NBDL for one year. But the money hasn't lasted. He was forced to work at McDonald's for a time after his credit card was declined while trying to buy food for one of his two children. Businesses have started, shown promise and then failed for one reason or another. He's now in the wealth management business, basically a start-up, and he's hoping that eventually provides a steady stream of income that helps support his two kids, one from a previous relationship and one with his current fiancée.
How bad did it get that final year, the one under Jim O'Brien? He constantly asked for trades. He asked to be moved to the NBDL. Mostly, though, he self-medicated in an effort to survive O'Brien. His first few seasons, he confined his marijuana smoking to the offseason, as many pro athletes do. But when O'Brien arrived, Harrison determined the only way to handle O'Brien -- "and not kill him," he said -- was to smoke before practices and after practices.
He even took a few hits off a vapor cigarette filled with weed during halftime of some games.
"I needed it (the marijuana) just to survive and stay sane with O'Brien," Harrison said. "He was always trying to pull my b---h card and always with a bunch of people around. He was always nice to me with the door closed because he knew I wanted to choke him.
"One day, he literally calls me a '(bleeping) faggot' in front of the entire team…We're watching video of a guy scoring on me in the lane and O'Brien goes" -- Harrison speaks in a falsetto -- 'Hey, look at me, I'm David Harrison and I'm in the lane' and then he calls me a faggot. I walked out of the room. Troy (Murphy) comes out and says, 'C'mon, David, you have to come back in; we've talked to him and it's fine', so I go back in, O'Brien's on me again, 'Are you done crying, David? Are you done crying?'"
I asked Harrison if he felt like he was reduced to a child in front of his father, fearing the next backhand.
He lowered his head.
"Yes, I did," he said.
Harrison fully recognizes now that the last guy on the bench can't be the first one making trouble. But he didn't quite get that at the time. He was just angry, angry at everyone and everything. And part of that anger was pointed at the NBA's drug policy, which prohibits marijuana use. It wasn't just because he wanted to get high, although that was certainly part of it; he had philosophical reasons for fighting a war he couldn't win. Here's how much he despised the policy; during one drug test, he smoked a joint. Right there in the restroom.
"After I got suspended (for the drug violation), I was supposed to be apologetic and sad and remorseful and I wasn't any of those," Harrison said. "Our government got shut down because we didn't have enough money and we're spending all this money locking up non-violent drug offenders. We're enforcing this archaic law. It was frustrating to me. I could use HGH and I'd be celebrated for being a good player. But marijuana? You're suspended. That makes no sense to me.
"I feel that if I'm compliant with a law that's unjust, I'm being a tool of the system. I just took that and ran with that. That was my mentality at the time. But it's like that Johnny Cash song, 'I Fought The Law And The Law Won'."
Shortly after Harrison returned from his suspension, I asked him to come on the old radio show I hosted with Eddie White. He agreed, and made largely the same argument he offered earlier. Suffice to say, this didn't sit well with the Pacers' hierarchy.
"Our PR guy, David (Benner), he doesn't curse, but when he got a hold of me, I heard 'em all," he said, laughing.
Then he got serious. He has regrets -- don't we all? -- but he's glad he's taken this journey toward self-awareness and something resembling happiness.
"I wish I could put my 32-year-old brain in my 24-year-old body," he said. "If it wasn't for the pot thing, I'm betting you I'm still playing. But it is what it is. I'm on to the next chapter in my life."