By revealing his dark thoughts of self-harm this week, former ACT Brumbies and Australian Wallabies winger Clyde Rathbone may not yet realise how much good can come of it.
By letting people know he contemplated ending his own life, he can potentially save others.
Rathbone's story seems startling. His admissions this week of his battle with depression were confronting, even to those close to him who never suspected a thing.
How could they?
Look at the photo above. Rathbone was an athlete on top of his game. Successful. Triumphant. Powerful.
As Rathbone explains, he never consciously tried to hide his internal turmoil. But it was covered up by a life lived on autopilot.
During his sporting career he was distracted from his demons by a cycle of Saturdays.
One game finished, there was always another to focus on next week.
Then suddenly the music stops, in Rathbone's case prematurely because of injury. You leave the company of the team. You're alone, with those thoughts.
Rathbone's not alone.
Depression among elite athletes is very real. A 2002 study in the US claimed depression affected 12 per cent of male athletes and 25 per cent of females.
Even then, those statistics are probably under-reported. After all, athletes are trained to be strong. Depression, by that same measure, can be misconceived as a weakness.
Swimmer Petria Thomas retired on a career high after coming back from multiple injuries to win three gold medals at the 2004 Athens Olympics.
It was only then she was able to reveal the struggles she'd endured with depression a decade earlier.
Despite winning two Commonwealth golds in 1994, that same year Thomas needed her stomach pumped of an overdose of non-prescription pills. At the time she'd felt alone. Worthless.
Composure and elegant stroke play were features of Marcus Trescothick's early cricket career.
By the end, England's champion batsman was a trembling wreck at Heathrow Airport, unable to bring himself to get on a plane.
''Even when the depression was at its worst, I'd get out on to the field and play,'' Trescothick later said. ''The trouble is, I'd come off the field and collapse ... no one knew.''
Two weeks ago I had an invitation from the Canberra Raiders to sit in on an NRL welfare presentation from former Newcastle Knights premiership-winner Owen Craigie.
I accepted, rather begrudgingly I admit, probably like most of the Raiders players who entered the room.
No longer than 10 minutes later I, and everyone else, rocked back in our seats and exhaled.
This was no flashy PowerPoint presentation. There were no glossy pamphlets or Brady Bunch-type lesson at the end.
Dressed in black polo shirt and slacks, Craigie had simply bared his soul.
He told his story.
From one of nine kids growing up in a three-bedroom housing commission home in Tingha.
To how he left that home for the Newcastle Knights at 15 and, by 17, had enough money to buy his own four-bedroom home with a pool.
He's the only player to ever represent the Australian Schoolboys in three consecutive years. He debuted in first grade at 17 and won a title with the Knights by 19.
With barely a pause in his rags-to-riches yarn, Craigie then continued to this: ''I'm very lucky to be alive''.
Gambling took over his life. He estimates he lost $1.5million in cash and that much again in property.
So why relive his train-wreck years later to people he doesn't even know?
''Because I've come out the other side,'' Craigie explained to me. ''If I tell my story and if people can pay it forward, then my job's done.''
Which brings me back to Rathbone. Brumbies coach Jake White has indicated he wants to embrace Rathbone back into the Brumbies, to have his former South African prodigy tell his story to his young squad.
Rathbone is keen to accept and the Brumbies players should - and will - listen.
Professional sports are becoming increasingly conscious of protecting the ongoing welfare of their athletes.
But not everyone lives to tell such a powerful story as Rathbone has to share.
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