‘GOING TO BE A FEW TEARS’
Stanford players thrilled that win or lose, they finally will get to hug their families
In each game of the NCAA Tournament, when the last seconds drain off the clock and the win is secured, Stanford players hug each other and high five. But then they quickly look up in the stands, to smile, to wave and to mouth “I love you”?
That’s as close to their families as they can get.
When the championship game against Arizona ends Sunday, win or lose, the Stanford players will score a victory. Because at the end of it, after months of strict pandemic protocols, they finally will be able to hug their family and friends.
“That’s all we want to do, is hug them and squeeze them and tell them how proud we are of them,” said Jaime Hull, who hasn’t hugged either one of her children, twins Lacie and Lexie, for months.
In many ways this Stanford season has been about the importance of family. Creating family, being deprived of family, leaning on family, learning to cherish family. The few yards of space from the stands to the court floor is a chasm that can’t be breached except through looks and vibrations of love.
“We don’t take it for granted,” junior Lexie Hull said. “Especially now. We’re so grateful to have them here.”
And the parents are grateful to have each other. The parents of the Stanford players have grown close as they support each other through this strange season.
“In a way, with this pandemic and isolation, it has almost made us as families tighter,” Jamie
Hull said. “We have a tighter Stanford family than before.”
Unable to sit in the stands and cheer during the regular season, families did what they could.
When the team came to Pullman, Wash., near the Hulls’ Spokane home, they delivered gift bags for each player. When Stanford went to Colorado, Fran Belibi’s family did the same thing. In Oregon, Cameron Brink’s parents delivered the goodies.
Family dogs were brought outside hotels.
The pets could be hugged, but not the parents.
Now in San Antonio, with Kiana Williams’ father, Mike, acting as the host in his hometown, they have had a barbecue (Mike made a killer brisket and ribs), a boat ride down the river, and a creole luncheon was planned for Saturday. Mike has lent his car to other parents, pointed out the sights, and made sure to get as many friends and family into the stands as possible.
“Oh, we have about 40 family members, and I coach an AAU team, so those young ladies are there, so about 60 all together,” Williams said. “We have been very loud. I have been saying words you can’t even describe.”
The Stanford support is strong. It includes family members, like Russell Wilson and wife Ciara, supporting his sister Anna. It includes godparents, like Sonya Curry, mother of Stephen, who is Brink’s godmother.
The Stanford team can hear the support from the stands. Well, all except one member.
“I don’t hear it at all,” head coach Tara VanDerveer said. “I think our players are ecstatic that family and friends are able to come to the games. But I guess I’m in my own world, watching the game.”
Deprived of their usual support system, the Stanford team has created family in their pandemic world. It started in last spring and summer, with small group Zoom meetings.
“The players, not the coaches — they did that,” VanDerveer said. “They got to know each other, and when they’re with each other, they’re not cliquey. They enjoy playing ping pong, hanging out. It’s genuine. When you’re out there it’s more than just passing to each other — you’re playing hard for each other.”
VanDerveer, who has three sisters of her own, loves having siblings on her team: In the past she had Nneka and Chiney Ogwumike and Bonnie and Karlie Samuelson. Now she has the Hull twins.
“I think it is so beneficial to the team — this has been a team of sisterhood,” VanDerveer said.
“If you’re not really a family, if you don’t really care about each other, then 100 days on the road could really get old. But they really enjoy being around each other. They want to play hard for each other. When you have that sisterhood it’s really special.”
Isolated from normal campus life or any kind of normalcy, the players have spent months sitting in the hall by their hotel room doors, eating meals “together” but socially distanced.
The team has a “fun committee,” that has organized game nights (the Hulls sent board games that are favorites at their lake cabin and also dropped off playing cards at the San Antonio hotel).
There have been “Bachelor” TV nights and a widely publicized pingpong tournament (Hannah Jump won). All the silly things that families do together.
“We see each other every hour of every day,” Lexie Hull said. “It’s not a bad thing to live together. We like it. I’m playing with one sister, but I’m also playing with 12.”
The bonds are close and likely will last a lifetime. As will the memories for the parents, of standing outside hotels like paparazzi waiting for a glimpse of their children, of eating real Texas brisket together and riding down a river yelling “Go Stanford” until their voices crack.
Kianna is Mike Williams’ youngest child and only daughter. After the senior moved home to Texas for the early part of the pandemic, her parents drove her back to Stanford in September and dropped her off. Though they’ve watched her from the stands at the Pac-12 tournament in Las Vegas and now in San Antonio, they haven’t been able to hug her.
On Sunday night, that will change.
“That’s my baby,” Mike Williams said. “There are going to be a few tears involved.
“And a lot of family joy.” Ann Killion is a columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle.