When 90-95 per cent doubt you, stopping it from intruding on your own thoughts is very difficult
During one of football's most scrutinized tournaments, Aston Villa defender Tyrone Mings quietly sought psychiatric support while representing England at Euro 2020 — not as a sign of weakness, but as a testament to the invisible burdens elite athletes carry beneath the surface of performance. Caught between public doubt and private resolve, Mings found himself part of a broader cultural shift, one in which figures like Simone Biles and Ben Stokes are slowly dismantling the silence that has long surrounded mental health in professional sport. His story is less about a footballer on a bench and more about the cost of being human in an arena that rarely allows for it.
- Before England's opening Euro 2020 match, Mings was barely sleeping — his mind flooded with intrusive doubts about whether he truly belonged at that level.
- Being dropped for Harry Maguire's return wasn't just a tactical blow; it confirmed what Mings feared most — that the majority of his own country had never believed in him.
- He worked intensively with a psychologist and saw a psychiatrist during the tournament, building mental defenses against a tide of external noise threatening to become internal collapse.
- Off the pitch, Mings clashed publicly with Home Secretary Priti Patel, calling out her hypocrisy in condemning racist abuse after having dismissed the team's anti-racism stance as gesture politics.
- Former critic Rio Ferdinand privately messaged Mings after the tournament to acknowledge both his performances and his courage — a quiet signal that scrutiny and respect can coexist.
Tyrone Mings sought psychiatric support during Euro 2020, quietly managing a mental health crisis that unfolded behind the scenes of one of England's most celebrated tournament runs. He had started the opening two matches — against Croatia and Scotland — and performed solidly in both. But when Harry Maguire returned from injury and Mings found himself on the bench, what hurt most was not the decision itself. It was the feeling that 90 to 95 percent of his country had doubted him from the start.
In the days before the Croatia match, sleep had abandoned him. Intrusive thoughts multiplied. Working closely with his psychologist, he tried to separate the doubt he heard from the doubt that threatened to take root in his own mind. He was clear that there was no shame in any of it — this was simply the cost of performing at the highest level under relentless public scrutiny.
Mings found solidarity in watching other elite athletes speak openly about their struggles. Simone Biles had stepped back from Olympic events to protect her mental health. Ben Stokes had walked away from cricket for the same reason. For Mings, their courage confirmed that the conversation around mental wellbeing in sport was genuinely shifting.
The tournament also drew Mings into a political confrontation. When Home Secretary Priti Patel expressed outrage at the racist abuse directed at Rashford, Sancho, and Saka after the final, Mings responded pointedly — reminding her that she had dismissed the team's anti-racism gesture as mere politics at the tournament's outset. The contradiction, he felt, could not go unnamed.
Perhaps the most unexpected moment came afterward, when Rio Ferdinand — who had publicly called Mings the weak link in England's defense — sent him a private message praising both his performances and his response to Patel. Mings received it warmly. It was a reminder that criticism and respect are not always opposites, and that even the harshest voices can find their way back to decency.
Tyrone Mings sat down with a psychiatrist during Euro 2020, wrestling with the weight of a nation's doubt. The Aston Villa defender had started England's opening two matches—against Croatia and Scotland—and played solidly in both. But when Harry Maguire returned from an ankle injury, Mings found himself on the bench, watching from the sidelines as the tournament progressed toward the final. What stung most was not the tactical decision itself, which made football sense, but the feeling that accompanied it: the conviction that somewhere between 90 and 95 percent of his country had never believed in him in the first place.
In the days before that first match against Croatia, Mings' mental health deteriorated sharply. He barely slept. The unknowns multiplied in his mind—questions about whether he belonged, whether he was good enough, whether the noise from outside would drown out his own voice. He worked intensively with his psychologist to manage these intrusive thoughts, to build a wall between the doubt he heard and the doubt that threatened to colonize his own thinking. "When 90-95 per cent of your country are having doubts over you, it's very difficult to stop this intruding on your own thoughts," he would later reflect. There was no shame in it, he insisted. This was the cost of playing at this level, in this moment, with this scrutiny.
Mings drew strength from watching others speak openly about their own struggles. Simone Biles, the American gymnast competing at the Tokyo Olympics, had withdrawn from several events to protect her mental health. Ben Stokes, England's cricket all-rounder, had stepped back from the game indefinitely for the same reason. These were elite athletes, at the peak of their powers, choosing to prioritize their wellbeing over the demands placed upon them. "It's just great that we are playing in a time now when you can speak about mental health, and how you are feeling," Mings said. The conversation was changing. The stigma was lifting, however slowly.
The tournament also tested Mings in ways beyond the pitch. When Home Secretary Priti Patel tweeted her disgust at the online abuse directed at Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho, and Bukayo Saka after their penalty misses in the final, Mings responded sharply. Patel had dismissed England's anti-racism message—the taking of the knee—as mere gesture politics at the start of the campaign. Now, with racist abuse flooding in, she claimed to be appalled. Mings called out the contradiction: "You don't get to stoke the fire at the beginning of the tournament by labelling our anti-racism message as 'Gesture Politics' & then pretend to be disgusted when the very thing we're campaigning against, happens."
Rio Ferdinand, the former Manchester United defender and pundit, had been among those questioning Mings during the tournament, suggesting he was the weak link in England's defense and that opposing teams should target him. It was pointed criticism, perhaps overly personal. But Ferdinand reached out after the Euros ended, sending Mings a direct message acknowledging both his performances on the pitch and his response to Patel. "He'd said I was the weak link, and that Croatia should be targeting me," Mings recalled. "He messaged me saying something like, 'Top-class response – matched your performances on the pitch.' What a lovely guy." The gesture mattered. It showed that criticism and respect were not mutually exclusive, that a pundit could recalibrate and reconnect.
TalkSPORT host Tony Cascarino reflected on the episode, noting that while Ferdinand may have crossed a line into the personal, he had done the right thing by explaining himself afterward. "Being a pundit is a massive responsibility and you have to be careful, there is a line you can cross," Cascarino said. But he also believed Mings deserved recognition for what he had accomplished: two solid performances in high-pressure matches, a composed response to political hypocrisy, and the courage to speak openly about his mental health when silence would have been easier. If Mings felt the weight of a nation's doubt, he had also earned the right to feel proud of how he carried it.
Notable Quotes
When 90-95 per cent of your country are having doubts over you, it's very difficult to stop this intruding on your own thoughts.— Tyrone Mings
It's just great that we are playing in a time now when you can speak about mental health, and how you are feeling.— Tyrone Mings, on athletes like Simone Biles speaking openly about mental wellbeing
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When you say 90-95 percent of the country doubted him, what does that actually feel like from the inside?
It's not just noise. It becomes a voice in your own head. You start questioning yourself in ways you wouldn't if the doubt was only yours. You're trying to perform at the highest level while fighting the thought that everyone watching thinks you shouldn't be there.
But he played well in those first two games, didn't he?
He did. That's what makes it harder. The performances didn't change the narrative. He was solid, professional, did his job—and still felt like he was fighting a battle that had nothing to do with football.
Why did he need a psychiatrist? Isn't that what teammates and coaches are for?
They help, but a psychiatrist works differently. They help you separate the external noise from your own thoughts, build tools to manage intrusive thinking. It's clinical, structured. Sometimes you need that when the pressure is this specific and this public.
What changed when he spoke about Simone Biles?
He wasn't just defending her. He was saying: this is normal now, this is allowed, this is brave. It gave him permission to be honest about his own struggle without feeling weak.
And Ferdinand's message afterward—did that actually matter?
It mattered because it showed the criticism wasn't about Mings as a person. Ferdinand could say he was wrong about the football and still respect how Mings handled everything else. That's rare in sports.