It was 2016, and WA footy was left heartbroken.

A young East Perth reserves player, Beau Chatley, had suffered a devastating injury during a game.

He sustained a serious spinal fracture. There were fears he’d be left paralysed.

It impacted so many – getting Beau back to health was the priority, fundraising began, appeals to stake holders to help financially assist Beau and his family to get the help he needed.

Ten weeks later, East Perth made the reserves grand final at Subiaco Oval.

Beau left hospital for the first time, on grand final day – and would be in the changerooms post-match, ready to greet his mates.

As the WAFL broadcasters at the time, we were welcomed to be in the rooms by the East Perth hierarchy to capture – hopefully - a beautiful, emotional reunion.

The Royals led the game at three-quarter time but went on to lose.

The room got heavy, quick.

Beau was there, wheelchair-bound at the time, only able to raise one arm.

Each player embraced him as they came in – emotions were high. These guys were angry, frustrated by the loss, sad and empathetic for their mate. They sobbed. They screamed.

They were broken.

We stayed at the back of the room – but things didn’t feel right. Then it turned. Coaches, players, staff started yelling at us to leave. They didn’t hold back.

We apologised and left immediately. It was awful. My heart sunk.

We had come with the best intentions, to hopefully inspire more fundraising, more assistance, awareness. Instead, we had made things worse, for everyone.

We had been told it was okay to be in the room – but the players, the coaches were unaware. They just wanted to protect their mate.

Adam Selwood was working with the Royals as a coach then, supporting young players, as he loved to do.

He was in the room that day.

Later that afternoon, I got a message from Adam on Facebook. We’d never spoken before.

He was disappointed. He spoke of the privacy of the moment, the trauma the players had experienced, the lack of understanding we had displayed.

He wasn’t rude, angry, abusive. He just wanted me to know that it wasn’t ok, that the community was hurting, that there’s a moral obligation to protect, care for and respect.

Any time we saw each other after that, there was no issue. He’d said his piece, I’d apologised.

But I never forgot the lesson I learned that day from him. It made me a better journalist, and a better human.

To this day, whenever a story of emotional significance is in front of me, I consider that moment in the rooms.

The human side of it – just because you are allowed to film something, to be somewhere, doesn’t mean you should be.

Just because you have exclusive details of a story, doesn’t mean you need to report it, if it means doing harm to innocent parties. That moment in the East Perth rooms has become my moral compass in journalism, of sorts.

Adam Selwood was a good man. I didn’t know him well, personally, but I know many who did.

Ex-Eagles players, coaches, staff, AFLW players, local footy clubs, administrators, opposition players. Media. He had such a reach, because he took the time to connect.

All say the same things. He spoke up when needed, did the right thing. He listened.

We need more people like that, not less.

It’s been a debilitating start to the year in the WA football world. The loss of Adam Hunter, of Troy Selwood, of Adam.

So much loss – and much of it felt preventable.

We cannot let these horrible events hit us without taking some kind of positive change from them. We must attack our mental health not with words, not with token suggestions – but with action.

I’m not ashamed to say I hit a low point around seven years ago.

Everything seemed heavy, hard to navigate.

Thanks to some gentle nudging from a loved one I went to the GP, did a mental health check, got on a plan and found a psychologist. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever done.

A safe space to chat, talk through life, tackle some big issues and laugh about some lighter ones.

Anytime I walked out of that room – and even now I go back a few times a year for a refresher – I felt stronger, ready to take on the world. Now I respect and nurture my mental health.

The key is acknowledging how you’re feeling before it gets to complete darkness.

If you’re starting to feel ‘off’, if motivation is lacking, that’s a red flag. Don’t ignore it.

We are so hard on ourselves as men.

Be a great dad, a great husband, friend, son, employee – push yourself as hard as possible to earn as much as possible. Bigger house, better car.

Selwood’s teammate, Chris Judd, said something these past few days that stuck with me.

“Off the field his personality blended a hard edge with kindness and compassion, a kindness he gave to everyone else, but not himself.” Judd said.

He’s right. Adam was not alone on that.

We are often so kind to others – but not ourselves.

That needs to change.

Give yourself a break; remember, you and yourself are on the same team.