Tomáš Souček opens up about his depression
Posted: 10 Nov 2025, 11:06
Taken from a Reddit post:-
Tomáš Souček opens up about his depression — and explains the meaning behind his “helicopter” celebration
Note: This is English translation of a Czech article published by Seznam Zprávy about Tomáš Souček and his new autobiography Suk. All credit to the original authors (Jan Palička & David Čermák).
Czech international Tomáš Souček has matched a remarkable record. In his 202nd Premier League appearance on Saturday, he scored his 38th goal. But do you know why he celebrates his goals by spinning around with his arms out like a helicopter?
Even his parents didn’t know how much he was struggling. Despite playing in the most famous league in the world and earning a fortune, football had stopped bringing him joy.
Tomáš Souček couldn’t sleep.
He suffered from depression.
He sought help from psychologists.
And only now has the Czech national team captain decided to speak openly about his secret battle.
In his newly released autobiography Suk, which he officially launched at Eden Stadium in Prague, Souček describes the darkest moments of his career. For the first time, he also reveals where his trademark “helicopter” goal celebration comes from.
Once again on Saturday, he spun around in joy after scoring — helping West Ham secure an important 3–2 win against Burnley. It was his 38th Premier League goal, equalling the record of Patrik Berger. All other Czech scorers in the league — including Milan Baroš, Vladimír Šmicer, and Tomáš Rosický — are behind him.
Here’s an exclusive excerpt from Suk, co-written with journalists Jan Palička (Seznam Zprávy) and David Čermák (MF DNES), where Souček explains how the “helicopter” was born:
My dark chapter
Do you know what a Whoop band does? If not, don’t worry — I didn’t either at first. When I bought one in autumn 2023, I needed someone to explain it to me. It’s just a simple black strap on my left wrist that measures my heart rate and sleep quality.
You might think: “Another pointless gadget you’ll wear for a week and then throw in a drawer.”
Well, not for me.
The app shows when you’re overloaded, when you can push harder in training, and — most importantly — how you’re sleeping. And I wasn’t sleeping at all.
Two years of horror.
For a long time, I was ashamed to talk about it. Even my parents had no idea anything was wrong until I decided to write it all down. I was so low that I actually considered ending my career.
Insomnia.
Depression.
Fear of the future.
My secret room.
You probably wouldn’t believe it, right? Neither can I, looking back. I’ve always been the guy who throws himself into tackles, who plays on with bandages on his head — but this time, it hurt in my soul. At first it was just annoying; after a few months, unbearable. I was hitting rock bottom, going into every match completely exhausted from sleepless nights. Every single one.
Through my wife’s eyes
Pills, doctors, therapy… and the helicopter
I felt invincible — strong as a lion. I had an amazing family, more money than I could ever spend, and yet I had a problem I couldn’t fix.
The more I tried to fight it on my own, the deeper I sank. I’d go into every match thinking about how I wasn’t going to sleep — which, of course, only made it worse.
And that’s how the helicopter was born — my goal celebration. When I spin, I feel like I’m taking off.
At first, nobody knew what it meant. West Ham always has a club journalist at matches, and when I did the celebration for the first time in October 2023 after scoring against Newcastle, he asked, “What was that, Tom?”
“My little secret,” I told him.
Then I did it again. And again. Until finally, he asked me one more time, and I said: “I can’t tell you. Maybe one day.”
That day has come.
I became the helicopter because, despite the bad times, I can still fly. Every time I score, I spin my arms like blades and rise to the sky — to touch the stars again.
Maybe it looks silly to some people. But anyone who’s been through that kind of darkness will understand. Every spin, every flap of my arms, sets me free.
At first, I felt embarrassed doing it in training. I scored a simple goal, started spinning, and hoped I wouldn’t get dizzy and fall over. My teammates laughed: “Oi, Tom, what was that?”
“Nothing important,” I mumbled — even though it was the most important thing to me.
For a long time, I wanted to keep the meaning to myself. But now I don’t. There were nights — first one, then ten, then a hundred — when I couldn’t sleep. Pills, doctors, therapy, depression.
That’s what the helicopter stands for.
It’s the symbol of what I’ve overcome. I love it when fans call me “the helicopter.” Around the London Stadium, reporters even ask fans before games: “Can you do the Souček?”
The celebration has become part of West Ham — and part of me. It shows that I can still fight. That I can still rise, even when I feel weak or tired.
When I score, I lean back, close my eyes, spin, and for a few seconds I stop touching the ground. It’s not about saying everything bad is gone — it’s about returning to the roots, to the pure love of football that I lost for two years and had to win back.
The helicopter is my ceremony
It’s my personal way of celebrating the game I can’t imagine life without. For a long time, I was afraid people would judge me for admitting I had depression. But now? Why would I hide it?
I don’t care anymore about the jokes from back home — that I’m a farmer’s boy from Brod. I don’t care that I’m not as fast as Usain Bolt. I don’t care about the online comments. I’m above that now.
This is me.
Tomáš.
Tomáš Souček.
“Suk.”
“Super Tom.”
Or simply — the helicopter.
My Whoop tracker still tells me my sleep could be better, especially before matches. I rarely reach REM sleep.
For a long time, my wife urged me to open up:
But how could I? In top-level football, weakness is dangerous. If you show vulnerability, your opponents will use it against you. And everyone knows my three rules: family is my life, football is my love, and winning is my drug.
I know this football story will one day end — but not yet.
I’m still flying. Still spinning. Still chasing the stars.
Excerpted from the autobiography “Suk” by Tomáš Souček, released in Prague in November 2025.
Tomáš Souček opens up about his depression — and explains the meaning behind his “helicopter” celebration
Note: This is English translation of a Czech article published by Seznam Zprávy about Tomáš Souček and his new autobiography Suk. All credit to the original authors (Jan Palička & David Čermák).
Czech international Tomáš Souček has matched a remarkable record. In his 202nd Premier League appearance on Saturday, he scored his 38th goal. But do you know why he celebrates his goals by spinning around with his arms out like a helicopter?
Even his parents didn’t know how much he was struggling. Despite playing in the most famous league in the world and earning a fortune, football had stopped bringing him joy.
Tomáš Souček couldn’t sleep.
He suffered from depression.
He sought help from psychologists.
And only now has the Czech national team captain decided to speak openly about his secret battle.
In his newly released autobiography Suk, which he officially launched at Eden Stadium in Prague, Souček describes the darkest moments of his career. For the first time, he also reveals where his trademark “helicopter” goal celebration comes from.
Once again on Saturday, he spun around in joy after scoring — helping West Ham secure an important 3–2 win against Burnley. It was his 38th Premier League goal, equalling the record of Patrik Berger. All other Czech scorers in the league — including Milan Baroš, Vladimír Šmicer, and Tomáš Rosický — are behind him.
Here’s an exclusive excerpt from Suk, co-written with journalists Jan Palička (Seznam Zprávy) and David Čermák (MF DNES), where Souček explains how the “helicopter” was born:
My dark chapter
Do you know what a Whoop band does? If not, don’t worry — I didn’t either at first. When I bought one in autumn 2023, I needed someone to explain it to me. It’s just a simple black strap on my left wrist that measures my heart rate and sleep quality.
You might think: “Another pointless gadget you’ll wear for a week and then throw in a drawer.”
Well, not for me.
The app shows when you’re overloaded, when you can push harder in training, and — most importantly — how you’re sleeping. And I wasn’t sleeping at all.
Two years of horror.
For a long time, I was ashamed to talk about it. Even my parents had no idea anything was wrong until I decided to write it all down. I was so low that I actually considered ending my career.
Insomnia.
Depression.
Fear of the future.
My secret room.
You probably wouldn’t believe it, right? Neither can I, looking back. I’ve always been the guy who throws himself into tackles, who plays on with bandages on his head — but this time, it hurt in my soul. At first it was just annoying; after a few months, unbearable. I was hitting rock bottom, going into every match completely exhausted from sleepless nights. Every single one.
Through my wife’s eyes
Pills, doctors, therapy… and the helicopter
I felt invincible — strong as a lion. I had an amazing family, more money than I could ever spend, and yet I had a problem I couldn’t fix.
The more I tried to fight it on my own, the deeper I sank. I’d go into every match thinking about how I wasn’t going to sleep — which, of course, only made it worse.
And that’s how the helicopter was born — my goal celebration. When I spin, I feel like I’m taking off.
At first, nobody knew what it meant. West Ham always has a club journalist at matches, and when I did the celebration for the first time in October 2023 after scoring against Newcastle, he asked, “What was that, Tom?”
“My little secret,” I told him.
Then I did it again. And again. Until finally, he asked me one more time, and I said: “I can’t tell you. Maybe one day.”
That day has come.
I became the helicopter because, despite the bad times, I can still fly. Every time I score, I spin my arms like blades and rise to the sky — to touch the stars again.
Maybe it looks silly to some people. But anyone who’s been through that kind of darkness will understand. Every spin, every flap of my arms, sets me free.
At first, I felt embarrassed doing it in training. I scored a simple goal, started spinning, and hoped I wouldn’t get dizzy and fall over. My teammates laughed: “Oi, Tom, what was that?”
“Nothing important,” I mumbled — even though it was the most important thing to me.
For a long time, I wanted to keep the meaning to myself. But now I don’t. There were nights — first one, then ten, then a hundred — when I couldn’t sleep. Pills, doctors, therapy, depression.
That’s what the helicopter stands for.
It’s the symbol of what I’ve overcome. I love it when fans call me “the helicopter.” Around the London Stadium, reporters even ask fans before games: “Can you do the Souček?”
The celebration has become part of West Ham — and part of me. It shows that I can still fight. That I can still rise, even when I feel weak or tired.
When I score, I lean back, close my eyes, spin, and for a few seconds I stop touching the ground. It’s not about saying everything bad is gone — it’s about returning to the roots, to the pure love of football that I lost for two years and had to win back.
The helicopter is my ceremony
It’s my personal way of celebrating the game I can’t imagine life without. For a long time, I was afraid people would judge me for admitting I had depression. But now? Why would I hide it?
I don’t care anymore about the jokes from back home — that I’m a farmer’s boy from Brod. I don’t care that I’m not as fast as Usain Bolt. I don’t care about the online comments. I’m above that now.
This is me.
Tomáš.
Tomáš Souček.
“Suk.”
“Super Tom.”
Or simply — the helicopter.
My Whoop tracker still tells me my sleep could be better, especially before matches. I rarely reach REM sleep.
For a long time, my wife urged me to open up:
But how could I? In top-level football, weakness is dangerous. If you show vulnerability, your opponents will use it against you. And everyone knows my three rules: family is my life, football is my love, and winning is my drug.
I know this football story will one day end — but not yet.
I’m still flying. Still spinning. Still chasing the stars.
Excerpted from the autobiography “Suk” by Tomáš Souček, released in Prague in November 2025.
