Canadian Baseball Network writer Trevor Fitzpatrick is shown here staring into the water's horizon in Gaspe, Que., the small city in which his grandparents Harold and Sandra Fitzpatrick grew up. He was 16 when this photo was taken and was struggling with his mental health. Photo supplied.

June 3, 2025

By Trevor Fitzpatrick

Canadian Baseball Network

Content warning: The following story contains mention of depression and attempted suicide.

I laid there on my bed that fateful night, tears streaming down from my eyes.

I had a photo of my favourite former competitive swimming coach and I, along with my first provincial medal on my lap.

I had a massive argument with my mom earlier that day. In my mind, it was to be the last of the arguments that I myself caused within my family.

Memories soared through my mind. Fights I’d started, swim competitions I’d failed at, report cards slowly falling despite my “gifted” mind.

Less than an hour ago, I took all the pills in our drug cabinet. Whole bottles full, gone. Pain killers, antidepressants, and who knows what else.

I took so many that I ran out of water. I shook my head and started swallowing them dry.

None of them were mine, but tonight, they were my way out. I was to die here.

I was only 16.

I awoke in the same bed that I lost consciousness in. Fog clouded my vision, there was nothing but confusion in my mind.

It shouldn’t have been possible. No one should’ve been able to have found me before I passed. Those that were home weren’t going to check on me for a long while after the big argument.

To be honest, I don’t remember a lot other than crying family members and a lot of hugs from that point on.

As it turns out, nearly a week of my memory was – and still is – completely gone. I had called 911 subconsciously as I passed out on that fateful night.

I don’t remember doing it, but clearly some part of me that I hadn’t met yet wanted to live.

Until now, very few people knew. I left it to my parents to tell whoever they felt needed to know.

I didn’t say a word to anyone. I was embarrassed. Partly because of what I had done, but partly because I didn’t finish the job.

Trevor Fitzpatrick, shown here in the middle row, second from the left, standing next to one of his former swim coaches Jorge Neves. Neves was one of Fitzpatrick’s favourite coaches. Fitzpatrick won a Brampton Citizen's award for his relay team's gold medal performance at the provincials in 2017. This photo was taken in May 2018. Later that same year, Fitzpatrick attempted to take his own life. Photo supplied.

My cloudy memory persisted over the next few days. By the time it cleared enough for me to remember anything, I was in Montreal with my swim team, COBRA.

From what I’ve been told, a lot of the board of director members and coaches didn’t want me to go – fair enough. But I have to thank my parents Jami and James as well as the lead trip chaperones Ryan and Tanya for fighting for me to be there.

I can’t forget about Louise either, as chair of the board she oversaw the discussions and my eventual return to the pool.

“Trevor and your family are important to us,” were the final words of the formal email my parents received from her, welcoming me back to the team.

That Montreal trip stopped me from trying to take my life a second time.

I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind, but alas, that ice cold water of the Montreal Olympic Pool must have switched back on at least some of the positive thoughts swirling in my mind.

Trevor Fitzpatrick standing above the Montreal Olympic Pool. It's the same pool that he travelled to with his swim team, COBRA Swim Club, in 2018, only weeks after his suicide attempt. Photo supplied.

My technique must have looked ridiculous, having missed so much training, but on pure adrenaline alone, I surged to a best time in the 100 metre breaststroke.

A smile came across my face for the first time since that fateful night.

The depression stayed with it.

Days blended into months as the time flew by, my smile continuing to make those around me believe nothing was wrong.

Everyone that didn’t know about what had happened thought I was physically sick. What I went through, and continued to go through, was far worse.

The world around me felt grey. My mental battle never won, never lost, just a constant war being waged in my head that kept me on the edge of life and death.

It kept on going that way for what felt like an eternity.

I eventually told my closest friend Jordan about what had transpired. He was very supportive, but for some reason, despite the talking noticeably helping me for a little while, I locked my thoughts back up and didn’t tell anyone else.

By the time my high school years mercifully came to an end, it was the middle of the COVID-19 lockdowns.

I got no graduation to celebrate, and no chance to take my beautiful girlfriend Melissa to prom. I was confined in my house.

My parents did their best and set me up a wonderful graduation at home. Lots of my family drove by to congratulate me, but for some reason I still felt empty.

Trevor Fitzpatrick posing with the high school diploma his mom made for him. Because of COVID, he hadn't received his real one in time for this graduation ceremony that his parents held for him at home in 2020. Photo supplied.

Why did I feel this way?

I hated that I felt this way. I despised myself for having incredible people all around me and still feeling empty.

As fall arrived, I was off to Sudbury’s Laurentian University to study chemistry and compete on their varsity swim team.

I cried as I was dropped off at the dorm and my family drove four hours away.

COVID limited our practices and our main pool was out of commission. No one was on campus except for the athletes and coaches. I was alone. Alone to deal with those dark thoughts in my mind.

My years of hardwork in the pool were thrown away as I couldn’t take it anymore and called my parents to bring me back home only a month in.

I don’t know how much I believe in fate, but what happened next made it hard not to. Only another month later, the university announced that it was cutting its swim team as part of their cost cuts due to the school declaring bankruptcy.

Even if things played out differently with my situation and I toughed it out and stayed, I would have been forced to quit swimming anyways.

I transferred to Wilfrid Laurier University for my second year. It was much closer to home and I could focus entirely on my studies with my love-hate relationship with swimming out of the way.

The problem was that my studies weren’t exactly going well either. COVID made it hard to keep up with my study habits and my grades started to slip even more than they did in high school.

I went from being a straight 90s student in early high school to failing second-year calculus in university.

I became a university drop out. I had let my hard-working parents down. I wasted all of the money they spent on me. The final glimmer of colour drained from my mind as everything felt grey yet again.

I laid in my bed and couldn’t do anything aside from think about that fateful night.

I tried everything that I could think of to break the numbness that I was feeling.

There were Boxing and jiu-jitsu lessons, a job that lasted only a single day in a warehouse that made metal truck accessories, and a phase when I live streamed myself playing video games online.

The dip into live streaming was definitely odd. I can’t remember exactly why I did it. I was always the shy and quiet person in every room, yet this felt different.

Whether it was because I was sharing my hobbies with strangers online or I liked the idea of making my own show so to speak, it was always a highlight of my day whenever I got to do one.

I knew that I had to stop sitting around all day though and find work or get back into school. I had been doing almost nothing for half of a year at this point.

Taking that slight joy I found from streaming online, I clung to it and tried to find a way to turn it into work.

A life-changing idea hit me as I was watching the Toronto Blue Jays one day. What was stopping me from trying to be a part of baseball coverage? Sports coverage in general?

Baseball had been a massive part of my life to this point whether I recognized it or not. My dad was a player for years and years, my grandparents coached and managed, and my brother had taken up the sport too after playing basketball when he was young.

I was always more than a fan. The positioning, adjustments, and stats always came easy to my mind.

Unfortunately, I was the least coordinated on the field at all times, so my career didn’t get much further than tee-ball and I ended up in the pool to save myself from land-induced injuries.

Research was my game, and so, I set out doing just that, searching for a college to teach me all facets of sports coverage.

I started my studies once more at a small private college called the College of Sports Media in Toronto that fall.

The world started feeling a little less grey, and my heart, a little more full of passion than it ever had before.

Trevor Fitzpatrick with College of Sports Media school president, David Lanys, at his graduation ceremony on September 26, 2024. Photo supplied.

If I didn’t know before – which I somewhat did – that hockey, not baseball, was my class’ preferred sport, it really drilled home when the president of the school, David Lanys, presented us with a “baseball opportunity”.

In my class of 20 or so students, I recall being one of two, maybe three to raise their hand to claim it. I was definitely the only one to raise my hand with full confidence.

I can’t exactly blame my fellow classmates, after all, we weren’t given any details about what the opportunity entailed.

Less than a day later, I was put in touch with Bob Elliott. He asked for an extra set of writing hands, to which I excitedly accepted.

On March 6, 2023, my first story for the Canadian Baseball Network was posted. It covered the University of Mary Marauders and the 17(!) Canadians on their team that season.

Interviewing head coach Tanner Spencer (Craik, Sask.) was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, only because I was so nervous. But I knew that I had to break out of my shell if I wanted to finally begin putting that fateful night behind me.

I’m extremely proud to share with you all that I did.

I went on to graduate from my college, I got to tell more stories for the Canadian Baseball Network, I became the public address announcer for the Intercounty Baseball League’s Toronto Maple Leafs, and I joined Sportsnet’s Blue Jays Central as an intern for a few months.

While I do continue to search for more work as a journalist/broadcaster, I’m starting a new job as a tour guide for the Toronto Blue Jays in the coming days.

I’d be remiss to call this a happy ending, because my story is just truly beginning now.

I was lucky enough to have a second chance at life. Millions of men around the world were not. Their stories ended on their fateful nights.

May was Mental Health Awareness Month and June is Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month, yet, I hear next to nothing about it each year. All the while, more than 10 people die of suicide each day. Suicide rates are three times higher for men than they are for women, and it’s the lead cause of death for youth and young adults (stats from Canada.ca).

I was nearly one of them.

Please, check in on your loved ones, even if they seem okay. You can also check CMHA.ca or CAMH.ca for more information.

While mental health awareness month is over, later this year in November is Movember.com ‘s annual fundraiser for men’s health. I implore you to check it out and see how you can give your support.

Remember, it’s OK to cry in baseball, and it’s OK to ask for help.

Fitzpatrick: My mental health awareness story -“It’s OK to cry in baseball and it’s OK to ask for help”