Watching the Kansas State-Kansas matchup at 6pm on ESPN Saturday, I was undoubtedly cheering for K-State. My Villanova Wildcats had lost earlier in the day, and my Temple Owls had won. Nova, ranked number seven, would certainly fall far without a loss from #6 Kansas. And for Temple, well, I’m just praying as many ranked teams fall as possible, in hopes that Temple will be able to crack the top 25.
Then the announcers told the heartwrenching story of Thomas Robinson, forward for Kansas University, who lost his mother, grandmother, and grandfather within three weeks. Lisa Robinson, mother of Thomas, passed away at age 37 from an apparent heart attack on January 21, the day before Kansas took on 10th ranked Texas, according to ESPN. Thomas, though grieving, stepped onto the court, and played the game. Teammates and coaches all flew to Washington, D.C. to support Robinson at the funerals of his grandmother and mother.
Tonight, signs in support of Robinson littered the stands and the players donned patches with “LR” in memory of Robinson’s mother. Coaches gave hugs and players remained encouraging. The entire game didn’t have your typical rivalry feel. Instead, it was an atmosphere of healing, and one where spectators, athletes, and coaches alike remembered that basketball is just a game we play.
The most inspiring moment was when Robinson, number 0, told why he stepped onto the court that night. He said he did it for his seven year old sister, to show her that life goes on, things get better, and they, together, can overcome this tragedy. The roars at the Jayhawks’ Allen Fieldhouse are always thunderous, but as Robinson touched the ball, scored a basket, or stepped off the court, they became deafening, letting Robinson know the KU family was behind him.
While I was cheering for K-State at the outset of the game, quickly, I found myself rooting for the one player on the court that made the biggest impact. Perhaps Robinson didn’t score the most points, or have the most rebounds, or make the largest on-court contribution, but he outshined all the other players with his heart and determination to play the game, to transcend his grief.
To know that there are some things that transcend the sport, make it that more meaningful. To know that the sport can help you work through the most difficult moments in your life, that is why we’re drawn to them. For Robinson, basketball is still just a game. But it’s the bonds he’s formed with the game and with those who play it with him that allows him to use the game to heal. Tonight was a poignant example of that. Rivalry, rankings, rushing the court mean naught, but helping a teammate heal, regardless of the color of their jersey, was truly the point of the contest.
Then the announcers told the heartwrenching story of Thomas Robinson, forward for Kansas University, who lost his mother, grandmother, and grandfather within three weeks. Lisa Robinson, mother of Thomas, passed away at age 37 from an apparent heart attack on January 21, the day before Kansas took on 10th ranked Texas, according to ESPN. Thomas, though grieving, stepped onto the court, and played the game. Teammates and coaches all flew to Washington, D.C. to support Robinson at the funerals of his grandmother and mother.
Tonight, signs in support of Robinson littered the stands and the players donned patches with “LR” in memory of Robinson’s mother. Coaches gave hugs and players remained encouraging. The entire game didn’t have your typical rivalry feel. Instead, it was an atmosphere of healing, and one where spectators, athletes, and coaches alike remembered that basketball is just a game we play.
The most inspiring moment was when Robinson, number 0, told why he stepped onto the court that night. He said he did it for his seven year old sister, to show her that life goes on, things get better, and they, together, can overcome this tragedy. The roars at the Jayhawks’ Allen Fieldhouse are always thunderous, but as Robinson touched the ball, scored a basket, or stepped off the court, they became deafening, letting Robinson know the KU family was behind him.
While I was cheering for K-State at the outset of the game, quickly, I found myself rooting for the one player on the court that made the biggest impact. Perhaps Robinson didn’t score the most points, or have the most rebounds, or make the largest on-court contribution, but he outshined all the other players with his heart and determination to play the game, to transcend his grief.
To know that there are some things that transcend the sport, make it that more meaningful. To know that the sport can help you work through the most difficult moments in your life, that is why we’re drawn to them. For Robinson, basketball is still just a game. But it’s the bonds he’s formed with the game and with those who play it with him that allows him to use the game to heal. Tonight was a poignant example of that. Rivalry, rankings, rushing the court mean naught, but helping a teammate heal, regardless of the color of their jersey, was truly the point of the contest.
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