John Thompson & Dawn Staley: Black Excellence on the Sidelines
I’ve never been one to compare people because I firmly believe God made us all unique. But every time I watch Dawn Staley pace the sidelines at South Carolina, I can’t help but think of the late, great John Thompson. Their impact goes far beyond basketball. They’ve changed the game, changed lives, and redefined what it means to lead.
When my wife and I attended a Texas A&M game, an elderly Aggie couple and diehard fans for over 50 years — asked how many miles we had traveled to support the Gamecocks and how often we made the trip. They had no idea we were local. That moment was surreal. They couldn’t fathom someone from the area not supporting the Aggies, and I was shocked that they didn’t realize Dawn Staley had fans everywhere. She’s bigger than the sport. She’s bigger than South Carolina.
I grew up in a house where Prairie View A&M was considered the most prestigious school in the world, yet I never heard the term “HBCU” until I was about 25. When I was 14 and visited Washington, D.C., I learned Georgetown wasn’t a Black university. That revelation floored me because, in my mind, John Thompson was Georgetown. He carried himself with an authority and presence I had only seen in the Black men who raised me — my father, my grandfathers.
Thompson wasn’t just a coach; he was a force. He took over a failing program in 1972, inheriting a team that had gone 3–23 the previous season. Within a few years, he had transformed Georgetown into a powerhouse, making 24 postseason appearances over 27 years, including 20 trips to the NCAA Tournament and three Final Fours. His Hoyas won a national championship in 1984 with Patrick Ewing at the helm, making him the first Black coach to win an NCAA title. But his legacy isn’t just about winning. He recruited and mentored players who weren’t given a fair shot elsewhere and fought tooth and nail for their rights. He benched stars for skipping class. He walked away from games to protest racist policies. He battled the NCAA, the media, and anyone who dared to mistreat his players. He made sure they didn’t just become great athletes but educated men who understood their value beyond the game.
Dawn Staley is cut from the same cloth. Before she arrived in Columbia, South Carolina had never reached the 30-win mark in a single season. The program had moments of potential but never found sustained success. That changed the moment she took over. Today, South Carolina is a dynasty. With another win standing between them and an SEC Championship, and another NCAA tournament run looming, the Gamecocks are on the verge of securing their eighth 30-win season under her leadership. With three national championships in the last seven years, four Final Four appearances, and a staggering 184–11 record since 2020, Staley is the defining coach of this era. And yet, her impact stretches beyond numbers. She is a relentless advocate for her players, for equity in women’s sports, and for young Black girls who need to see that a career in coaching is not just possible, but theirs for the taking. When she signed her historic contract extension, she didn’t just celebrate for herself; she used that moment to demand that all women’s coaches be paid what they deserve.
Elite programs have no trouble attracting talent, but managing that talent is another challenge entirely. Staley doesn’t just recruit; she develops. She doesn’t just bring in great players; she makes sure they grow. Chemistry issues, egos, the transfer portal — none of these distractions have derailed South Carolina because Staley has built more than a team. She has built a culture. A once-overlooked program is now a machine. A promising coach has become a legend.
John Thompson carried himself with dignity, pride, and the kind of confidence that made you stand up a little straighter when you saw him enter the room. That’s the same energy Dawn Staley brings. She fights for her players. She challenges the system. She holds herself and her program to the highest standard. Watching her reminds me of watching Thompson back in the day.
And I can’t help but think that my mother — an All-American basketball player in her college days — is looking down from Heaven, smiling. She knew what it was like to play the game at an elite level, to pour everything into the sport she loved. She understood what it meant to be a woman in basketball before the world truly respected them for their talent. If she were here, she would see herself in Dawn Staley — the fire, the passion, the refusal to accept anything less than excellence. She would recognize that Staley isn’t just coaching. She’s leading a movement. She’s shaping the game for every woman who came before her, every young girl who dreams of playing, and every fan who knows that women’s basketball deserves just as much respect as the men’s game.
Dawn Staley’s DAWNASTY is far from over. And I know my mother is watching, nodding, and saying, that’s how you do it.
