Love & Basketball
On loving a lover of the game.
“Am I totally imagining this or did you say you played a sport through college??” -Mackenzie
“I played basketball in college so you are not imagining anything!” -Megan
“I
LOVE
BASKETBALL!!” -Mackenzie“Wait really!?! NBA?! College?!? Do you watch WNBA?!? I am so excited that you love basketball!” -Megan
“Mainly college basketball! I was born and raised on Kansas Jayhawks basketball. BUT! I really want to get into the WNBA and I want to go to a Liberty game!” -Mackenzie
“I actually find myself rooting for KU more often than not and yes!! The WNBA is so much fun. The season is over soon but I would love to go to a game. I haven’t made it to a game yet since I moved here. We should go!” - Megan
This exchange is one of the first text conversations Megan and I had. We had met through mutual friends at the beginning of the summer, talked all night and exchanged numbers, and then some time passed and we ran into each other on the train on a Thursday morning on our way to law school (for her) and work (for me). As soon as I left her and got off the train, she texted me asking if I wanted to get drinks sometime. I said yes, and we made plans to meet up four days later. We started texting and chatting back and forth that day after our train run-in and talked to each other every single day until Megan died.
When I found these old texts, I laughed remembering how nervous I was. When we would talk about our fateful train run-in, Megan would always note that, knowing what she knew about me now, how I was more nervous in that moment than she had ever seen me since. She always remembered my glasses kept fogging up. It was not particularly humid; I was just particularly nervous. Looking back at these old texts, apparently my way of “acting cool” at these nascent times was sending photos of myself as a newborn wearing socks with basketballs and Jayhawks on them. If you haven’t already been able to tell, I have never actually been cool a day in my life. But I can’t critique myself too much; apparently it worked.
While I was trying my hardest to prove to Megan that basketball was in my blood, Megan didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. To know Megan was to know her passion, and to know her passion was to know her love of basketball. I was able to see a different part of Megan’s connection to the sport than most others in her life. Friends and family who watched her growing up or in college knew her as the athlete; I got to see her as the expert. I thought I knew the game well, but I don’t think I ever watched a game the same way after watching with Megan. She used terms I had never heard of, phrases that left me clueless. She knew history and statistics, players and coaches. The depth of her knowledge made me question if I had even been watching the same sport she had for the last 20 years. I was enraptured by the depth of her knowledge. I couldn’t stop asking questions. And she answered every single one.
When I think through the years of our time together, I have a deep bench of basketball-related memories that I hold close to my heart.
Watching every single 2020 “Wubble” WNBA game we could possibly watch, because what else were we doing with our time during the summer of 2020?
Megan making me watch “Love & Basketball,” one of her all-time favorite movies, for the first time. She made fun of me the whole time for never having watched it before.
Visiting Miami University and Megan breaking into her college arena. She was so proud to show me around. I wished I could have seen her play there.
Playing HORSE and knockout with Megan and my dad while visiting my parents for various extended periods of time during COVID. We would be the only ones playing at the local park. When we were visiting and the weather was nice, my dad kept a basketball in the back of his car for whenever the thought of playing struck us.
Buying tickets for the 2021 New York Liberty home opener game, the team’s first game in their new home at Barclays Center. We bought the cheapest tickets possible, masked up, and sat in seats with measured out social distance between us and the next closest fans. Still under indoor capacity limits due to COVID, the average home game attendance that season was 1,847.
Flying to Kansas during Megan’s law school winter break to attend a KU men’s basketball game. We went with my parents, KU alums, and a friend I grew up with and her boyfriend. She and I (neither of us actually went to KU, as a side note, just the children of proud alums) were so excited to teach our people how to wave the wheat, introduce them to Big Jay and Baby Jay, and generally experience a game in Allen Field House. It was one of the only times I felt like I could teach Megan about something basketball-related. I was proud. She loved it, and wanted to go back to Kansas for a game every year.
Trekking out to St. John’s University every year to catch their game against Marquette’s women’s team. A number of Megan’s college coaches and staff had moved to Marquette after she graduated, so it was her chance to see them and support while they were in Queens. The first year we went, she was so excited to introduce me to them all. They were all excited to tell me embarrassing stories about Megan.
Forcing our entire bachelorette party to watch a Final Four game. Saturday night of our bachelorette party, KU played Villanova. We brought Jayhawk-themed shirts, stickers, solo cups, and necklaces. KU won and progressed to the championship game. Megan (after a day of drinking) called my dad and told him that “James Naismith had blessed our marriage and brought her a basketball-loving family to marry into.” That quote remains a classic. KU went on to win the national championship just 12 days before our wedding. A blessed union indeed.
Attending our first New York Liberty game as season ticket holders in 2023. Investing in the WNBA was so important to Megan, and we had hoped to become season ticket holders one day when it was in the budget. A few months before the 2023 season began, I worked a freelance job and I realized my payout was the exact amount as the cost of two season tickets (in the cheapest section). We made the purchase the day my paycheck hit our checking account. That first game was electric. It was Breanna Stewart’s debut game after joining the Liberty. She scored a team-record and personal-record 45 points.
Attending every single playoff game in 2023, and seeing the Liberty make it to the finals for the first time in over 20 years. While they ended up losing the series to the Las Vegas Aces, there was hope for next season. These were the last games Megan ever attended.
The day after Megan’s celebration of life in New York, I crawled into the back seat of the new car Megan and I had obtained five days before she died. My parents started the 20+ hour drive from New York to Kansas with their newly widowed daughter in the back seat. I barely remember anything from that drive, despite the fact that I know I was awake the entire time. Trying to sleep meant closing my eyes, and when I closed my eyes the flashbacks would burst to the front of my mind. So I know I was awake. All I remember was that I have the world’s most patient cat who barely made a peep as we drove almost 1,500 miles.
I won’t waste time trying to explain how badly I was doing at this time. Words do not exist to describe the numbness and fatigue that consumed me. Despite their invitations, I didn’t have the energy to leave the house to go to dinner with my parents, or go for a walk. I barely had the energy to walk myself down a hallway to the restroom and back to my bed or couch. And yet somehow, my delusional brain said to my dad, “Did I see that KU plays Mizzou at home on Saturday?” It was the beginning of college basketball season, and while couch-bound I had summoned enough focus to (mostly) watch an away game on TV. Dad and I decided that with it being such a big rivalry game, and looking at tickets so late, it would be crazy to even think about getting tickets. When we woke up the next morning, we decided to screw being crazy and get ourselves two tickets.
I was in no shape to go to a game. I was intensely sleep-deprived. Every inch of my body physically ached. I was still fighting off severe ear, nose, and throat inflammation an actual doctor told me was probably just caused by “crying so much.” But god I was so glad to be there.
After the moment of tipoff, I felt a jolt of energy go through my body that I didn’t think I was capable of ever feeling again. After the first referee whistle for a call I didn’t agree with, I screamed out “THAT IS A TERRIBLE CALL!” I shocked myself as I heard what came out of my mouth; that specific heckle was a Megan Special. Megan loved nothing more than telling a referee what she thought of a call, and wouldn’t hesitate to use her booming voice to tell them they were terrible at their jobs and should be ashamed. It wasn’t my usual move, but apparently it was now.
As the game progressed, I felt Megan’s voice bursting out of my throat. Megan-isms jumped out without even thinking about it. Her voice didn’t just speak through mine; I could also hear her voice crystal clear in my mind. With every play, I heard her live-time commentary. I knew exactly what she would say and when. And more than just knowing; I was really hearing it too. I had not heard the sound of her voice so clearly since the last words she spoke out loud to me. I hid the sound of my cries behind the pep band playing fight songs. When the crowd yelled and made funky noises to distract the other team from making their free throws, I used my remaining drops of energy to let out a primal scream. In my mind, I heard Megan screaming right next to me. I couldn’t get enough.
For the rest of my time in Kansas, I went to as many basketball games as was reasonably affordable. I was chasing Megan’s voice, looking for crumbs of connection. I was struggling with “feeling” her most days, but I knew where I could hear her.
I have been back home in New York for a few months now. I have been back in our home, in our neighborhood, walking the streets we walked day in and day out. I still struggle to feel Megan, and I still look for her around every street corner where she should be.
The Liberty’s 2024 home opener game was three weeks ago, and I attended with friends. Megan and I had already opted into two season tickets for this season before she died, and I sure wasn’t about to give those up. I knew for months that this game was going to be hard. While I had felt Megan at those KU games, Liberty games were truly our thing. I could barely stomach the thought of being there without her. But I knew I had to go, and I had to listen for her.
The New York Liberty was scheduled to take on the Indiana Fever. If you pay attention to basketball at all, or if you have been on the internet or turned on TV at all in the past six months, you may be familiar with the Iowa superstar turned Fever rookie Caitlin Clark. For the first Liberty game of the year, and for my first game without Megan, we would get to see the “Caitlin Clark Effect” in full force. We had a sold-out arena, with 17,735 fans setting a new all-time regular season attendance record for our team. During timeouts during the game, I found myself looking back at photos and videos from our first game together. I watched over and over one specific video I took of Megan standing in her back-row seat, cheering as loudly as she could (which if you knew her, you know how loud that can be), whirling her newly acquired free t-shirt in the air. It was May 2021, and she was celebrating the Liberty win over their opponents the Indiana Fever with the 1,800 other fans in the arena. It was May 2024, and we were celebrating a win over the Indiana Fever with over 17,000 other WNBA fans surrounding us. I cried because this level of love for women’s basketball is what Megan dreamed of for so many years.
She should be here to see this. I hope she can see it.
Griefy Reads
I mentioned above how I struggle to “feel” Megan now. That is part of a much bigger discussion for another day about beliefs and the universe, but for now I will just say that I am struggling with what I believe. The only thing I know with one hundred percent certainty is that I want Megan to be out there somewhere somehow, and I want to be able to feel some sort of connection to her. A friend gifted me a copy of Signs: The Secret Language of the Universe by Laura Lynne Jackson a few months back, and a new Grief Friend recommended it to me as well. In an act of desperation for any sort of hope for connection, I am finally starting. I will let you know how it goes.
Griefy… Views?
Okay I am still workshopping that title. Bear with me. But I thought I should also highlight some griefy shows/ movies/ general visual media too! After avoiding it for a while (depressed lead character Not Doing Great after the unexpected death of his wife seemed a little too on the nose for me for a while), I finally watched Shrinking. Many people had recommended it to me, but the most important person that recommended it to me was Megan. She had watched it before she passed, and told me I would love it. (She also knew about my teenage crush on Jason Segel.) We didn’t watch many shows separately, but for whatever reason, she chose to watch the whole season while I was traveling for work. She knew I would love it, and offered to rewatch it with me. I told her I would save it for a time when she was gone and I would watch on my own to not make her rewatch so quickly. Well, here I am watching it on my own, honey!
Thanks for your patience since my last writing. If you made it this far, you have seen that my schedule has been packed with basketball games! As is usual as the summer months kick off, I have found myself busier than ever. I am continuing to find the right balance of having plans to distract my brain versus giving myself time to rest and reflect. That balance is different every week, and I think it is just a balance I have to negotiate for the rest of my life. But I thank you for figuring it out with me.
Until next time. If you haven’t yet this season, turn on a WNBA game for Megan. And let me know what you think.
Mackenzie
This post was especially amazing to me since I had a close connection to basketball with my father. He played basketball in high school in the 1940’s when you had to dribble around posts holding up the ceiling of small high school gyms. After he passed, I would watch basketball to feel close to him and it always fills my heart with memories of playing “Horse” after supper in the alley on the hoop attached to our garage roof! Your writing is exceptional! Thank you for taking us on your journey.
Beautiful Mackenzie! I have to add though that her basketball smarts came from her dad and Craig. I could never understand how they could name players , stats and other info about basketball but couldn’t recall something I said to them! Megans ability to read the court was innate but she and Mike worked on it from the time she was 8 years old.
It’s funny to read how she yelled at the refs. When Mike did it at her games she would give him The Look that said Quit It!
Mike will watch pro and college women’s games . It’s really hard for me but I try.