Culture
Why South Carolina's freshman sensation is wowing Magic Johnson, the NBA and college basketball
Let’s begin with the play, because what else initially comes to mind when thinking of South Carolina star freshman MiLaysia Fulwiley?
You know the one. Against No. 10 Notre Dame, in the season opener, in Paris. Fulwiley receives an inbounds pass with just over two minutes to go until halftime and begins galloping up the floor. By the time she reaches the 3-point line, three defenders are inside the arc, but nothing is stopping her. Fulwiley picks up her dribble, goes behind the back with the ball and elevates. For a brief second, it looks as if she will attempt a scoop layup on the basket’s right side. But then, in an instant, she cradles the ball to the left and uses her right hand to flip it up with the perfect amount of spin so it falls through the hoop. “The Eiffel Tower is shaking,” ESPN’s Ryan Ruocco says on the broadcast.
MILAYSIA FULWILEY 👀
The handles + the finish…
🎥 @GamecockWBB pic.twitter.com/cpWoj7M4ed
— The Athletic (@TheAthletic) November 6, 2023
The razzle-dazzle electrifies the 3,200 spectators in attendance and hundreds of thousands watching on TV. Kevin Durant, amazed by the string of moves, tweets about it. Magic Johnson tweets it’s “the best move in all of basketball including the pros like LeBron, Steph, KD, Victor, and Jokic” and urges his 5 million followers to seek out the replay. It’s undeniably eye-popping. But to those who know Fulwiley best, the sequence isn’t surprising.
I’m watching the women’s basketball game between South Carolina and Notre Dame right now and I just saw the best move in all of basketball including the pros like LeBron, Steph, KD, Victor, and Jokic. Everyone must see the coast-to-coast, behind-the-back move by freshman guard…
— Earvin Magic Johnson (@MagicJohnson) November 6, 2023
“That play is routine for her,” South Carolina coach Dawn Staley says.
“That play, we’ve seen it 1,000 times,” her high school coach, Reggie McLain, says.
“She’s just special. I have not seen a kid play the game the way she plays it,” adds Ashley Rivens, her grassroots coach at Team Curry.
Although she’s only a freshman, Fulwiley has been making on-court magic in Columbia, S.C., for as long as she can remember. She grew up a 13-minute drive from the university’s campus. Long before she made Colonial Life Arena her stage, she created, and re-created, highlights in the driveway of her family’s three-bedroom home and at nearby Crane Forest Park. She’d watch YouTube videos — often of LeBron James, Columbia native Seventh Woods or other mixtape stars — grab a ball and experiment for herself. She’d tell her sisters, Zyana and Jayla, to sit on the porch and count down from five. “One day, the camera is gonna be on me and I’m gonna be like everybody else I see on YouTube,” Fulwiley says she would think to herself.
In daylight and darkness, on a strip of concrete or surrounding grass, in front of the house or at the goal in the back, she imagined nailing buzzer-beaters. She played in the park until she could no longer see the hoop. She practiced crossover combinations and spin moves. Eventually, in high school, the 5-foot-10 guard worked on dunking. (Yes, she can throw it down.) “You are gonna be somebody special,” her mother, Phea Mixon, told her.
Fulwiley’s highlights are a reminder, however, that just because something is routine for one person doesn’t mean it’s replicable for others. By the end of her seventh-grade season, McLain invited Fulwiley to join W.J. Keenan High’s varsity playoff run. South Carolina and Ole Miss offered her scholarships before the school year ended. As an eighth-grader, she played high school varsity full-time. Keenan won four state titles and played in five championship games with her on the roster.
Immense talent hasn’t led to immense ego, say those who know her best. Mixon describes her daughter as humble. Staley calls Fulwiley low-key and sometimes shy. “We have to teach her that you’re not an ordinary young person,” Staley says. Fulwiley, 18, knows she has much to learn. And though she’s comfortable skying above defenders, she reminds herself to stay steady. To remain grounded, even when her aerial acrobatics go viral. “I’m in control of how I want to feel,” she says. “My mom did a great job telling me, ‘Don’t get the big head because you can lose everything just how you got it.’”
As Fulwiley surged up ranking lists — eventually making her way to No. 13 in ESPN’s Class of 2023 — and past her defenders, Mixon often put her daughter’s opportunities over her own career in customer service. She prioritized attending Fulwiley’s tournaments and college visits. “I really wanted MiLaysia to secure her future, because once I saw how special she was, I knew that things can change,” Mixon says. Through hard work, she told her daughter, Fulwiley could accomplish what she aspired to achieve.
Fulwiley noticed her mother’s efforts. “It means a lot to me,” she says, “just knowing that my mom cares about me enough to stop things that’s going on in her life (and) sacrifice.” Mixon can count on one hand the number of times she’s missed Fulwiley’s games in high school or college.
Though she’s competitive off the court — McLain says Fulwiley didn’t even like to lose in PE kickball — she has largely maintained a singular focus. “Basketball has been my one and only love,” she says. In elementary school, her answer to “What do you want to be when you grow up?” questions was always a professional basketball player. She stood out in youth events. Fulwiley recalls attempting a 3-pointer in a boys’ church league game when she was only 6 or 7 and wondering if she was dreaming because she had tried a shot that even she thought was audacious. In the sixth grade, she scored 60 points in a game, but her team lost 71-70. She now calls her 60-piece “a waste” because of the result. Nevertheless, it brought more attention to her.
In her final home game at W.J. Keenan, senior Milaysia Fulwiley went out in style as the Raiders rolled into the third round of the 2A playoffs.
Fulwiley goes over the 3,000 point mark for her career and at halftime, she received some special gear.@MilaysiaF @wjkeenanraiders pic.twitter.com/nEOVX0OMJg— Reggie Anderson (@ReggieWLTX) February 18, 2023
When McLain first watched Fulwiley play, as a seventh-grader, he saw a player who stood out among her peers. He observed her elite athleticism, prodigious basketball IQ and competitiveness. A motor Fulwiley describes as “go-go-go.”
That spring, McLain added her to the high school’s playoff roster, and she immediately dominated practices, taking over in one-on-one drills. Still, McLain adds, she was “extremely quiet.” She didn’t get fazed by the teachers, trainers and other coaches poking their heads in the gym to see her play.
Staley says the success of her program is “based on the kids in our area.” A’ja Wilson is from Columbia. Alaina Coates is from a nearby suburb. “No one leaves the state,” Staley says, “without them making it really hard for us to say no.” The Gamecocks made it hard for Fulwiley to say no.
As she flourished in high school and on her grassroots team, her family kept envisioning her wearing garnet and black. It was initially only a lofty aspiration, but one they hoped could be a key step to reaching the WNBA. Mixon says Staley promised to hold Fulwiley accountable and help her reach the next level. The idea of staying home in Columbia also brought added excitement because her friends and family could easily see her play. Fulwiley’s now-deceased grandfather, Charles, was a longtime Gamecocks fan. He wore the school’s apparel and had school stickers on his car. He told Fulwiley he could see her suiting up there one day. She wears No. 12 in his honor; it was his favorite number.
One morning during Fulwiley’s second week of summer classes at South Carolina, she arrived late for a team breakfast. She says she was only two minutes behind schedule. She thought nothing would come of it. But tardiness in college, she quickly learned, was different from being late in high school. Staley told her she would sit out of a practice.
The discipline resonated. “Stuff like that made me lock in,” Fulwiley says. She told her mother: “Dawn does not play.”
In the weeks and months that followed, Staley has continued emphasizing the team rules. She stresses to Fulwiley the importance of being on time to class and weight training and creating pro-ready habits. Even in moments of tension, Staley reminds Fulwiley of her potential.
“She’ll ooh and ahh us,” Staley says. “She’ll make me turn away from her because of a move she’ll make. I gotta walk away from it because it was so very good. And then she also has some things that she needs to work on that will make me scream at her. And I don’t like screaming at her because she’s got an angelic look to her. She doesn’t like to be screamed at, but certain things will hit me differently.”
The 18-year-old has even stunned coach Dawn Staley with some of her moves.
In those instances, Staley will correct her, often prefacing the feedback by saying, “This doesn’t mean that you’re not a generational talent.”
In high school, Fulwiley was Keenan’s star. In college, she has starred at times, like in her 17-point, six-assist, six-steal outing against Notre Dame or in an 18-point, nine-rebound showing against Clemson. However, there have also been games when Fulwiley watched idly from the bench. She saw the floor for only three minutes in a 7-point win over North Carolina, with Staley saying Fulwiley lost her opponent a few times on defense. She played a mere 10 minutes in South Carolina’s 24-point victory over Missouri and missed all five of her field goal attempts. Yet it is then when coaches see Fulwiley’s trust in their decisions. “She really embraces the process, and I love that about her,” Staley says.
Against Texas A&M on Sunday, Fulwiley put on perhaps her best showing. She scored 21 points in 20 minutes, exploding past defenders in the pick-and-roll on multiple occasions. Staley said Fulwiley’s confidence translated to magic. The top-ranked Gamecocks matchup against No. 9 LSU on Thursday night provides another opportunity to unearth something amazing. But Staley also stresses that “the stuff in between the spectacular plays is where (her) greatness is really going to come.” In other words, how she makes the ordinary extraordinary.
Fulwiley says she has plenty to learn — too many things to rattle off. Staley notes Fulwiley can sometimes be unselfish to a fault and that she has room to “be in the gym a little bit more.” Fulwiley has nearly as many assists (40) as turnovers (34). Nevertheless, she takes feedback well. Coaches demonstrate something once, Staley says, and Fulwiley can execute it immediately. “She wants to be great,” Staley says. “And wanting to be great takes listening. It takes doing. It takes vulnerability.”
Fulwiley feels grateful to be at South Carolina, soaking up knowledge from the veterans. And although her stage has changed, she has stayed attached to her roots. She has returned to Keenan three times this season to watch the Raiders play. Once, she sat on the end of their bench, and she has spoken to the players at halftime. Sure, her sister Jayla is still playing there. However, Fulwiley goes back for more than that. “They played a big part as to why I’m here today,” she says. “I owe them my support and my dedication.”
Even with an arsenal of aerial attacks, she’s stayed tied to the ground. To her past. To her family. To Columbia. Mixon says, “I can’t tell you how many times I cried” seeing people scream her daughter’s name in Colonial Life Arena. She thinks about the sacrifices and how her father would say, “Whatever you do, you need to make time so that your daughter can follow her dreams.”
“I’ve prayed for times like this,” Fulwiley says. And in her driveway, she prepared for times like this, too.
(Photos of MiLaysia Fulwiley: Jacob Kupferman / Getty Images)
Culture
What Happens When We Die? This Wallace Stevens Poem Has Thoughts.
Whatever you do, don’t think of a bird.
Now: What kind of bird are you not thinking about? A pigeon? A bald eagle? Something more poetic, like a skylark or a nightingale? In any case, would you say that this bird you aren’t thinking about is real?
Before you answer, read this poem, which is quite literally about not thinking of a bird.
Human consciousness is full of riddles. Neuroscientists, philosophers and dorm-room stoners argue continually about what it is and whether it even exists. For Wallace Stevens, the experience of having a mind was a perpetual source of wonder, puzzlement and delight — perfectly ordinary and utterly transcendent at the same time. He explored the mysteries and pleasures of consciousness in countless poems over the course of his long poetic career. It was arguably his great theme.
Stevens was born in 1879 and published his first book, “Harmonium,” in 1923, making him something of a late bloomer among American modernists. For much of his adult life, he worked as an executive for the Hartford Accident and Indemnity Company, rising to the rank of vice president. He viewed insurance less as a day job to support his poetry than as a parallel vocation. He pursued both activities with quiet diligence, spending his days at the office and composing poems in his head as he walked to and from work.
As a young man, Stevens dreamed of traveling to Europe, though he never crossed the Atlantic. In middle age he made regular trips to Florida, and his poems are frequently infused with ideas of Paris and Rome and memories of Key West. Others partake of the stringent beauty of New England. But the landscapes he explores, wintry or tropical, provincial or cosmopolitan, are above all mental landscapes, created by and in the imagination.
Are those worlds real?
Let’s return to the palm tree and its avian inhabitant, in that tranquil Key West sunset of the mind.
Until then, we find consolation in fangles.
Culture
Wil Wheaton Discusses ‘Stand By Me’ and Narrating ‘The Body’ Audiobook
When the director Rob Reiner cast his leads in the 1986 film “Stand by Me,” he looked for young actors who were as close as possible to the personalities of the four children they’d be playing. There was the wise beyond his years kid from a rough family (River Phoenix), the slightly dim worrywart (Jerry O’Connell), the cutup with a temper (Corey Feldman) and the sensitive, bookish boy.
Wil Wheaton was perfect for that last one, Gordie Lachance, a doe-eyed child who is ignored by his family in favor of his late older brother. Now, 40 years later, he’s traveling the country to attend anniversary screenings of the film, alongside O’Connell and Feldman, which has thrown him back into the turmoil that he felt as an adolescent.
Wheaton has channeled those emotions and his on-set memories into his latest project: narrating a new audiobook version of “The Body,” the 1982 Stephen King novella on which the film was based.
A few years ago, Wheaton started to float the idea of returning to the story that gave him his big break — that of a quartet of boys in 1959 Oregon, in their last days before high school, setting out to find a classmate’s dead body. “I’ve been telling the story of ‘Stand By Me’ since I was 12 years old,” he said.
But this time was different. Wheaton, who has narrated dozens of audiobooks, including Andy Weir’s “The Martian” and Ernest Cline’s “Ready Player One,” says he has come to enjoy narration more than screen acting. “I’m safe, I’m in the booth, nobody’s looking at me and I can just tell you a story.”
The fact that he, an older man looking back on his younger years, is narrating a story about an older man looking back on his younger years, is not lost on Wheaton. King’s original story is bathed in nostalgia. Coming to terms with death and loss is one of its primary themes.
Two days after appearing on stage at the Academy Awards as part of a tribute to Reiner — who was murdered in 2025 alongside his wife, Michele — Wheaton got on the phone to talk about recording the audiobook, reliving his favorite scenes from the film and reexamining a quintessential story of childhood loss through the lens of his own.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
“I felt really close to him, and my memory of him.”
Wheaton on channeling a co-star’s performance.
There’s this wonderful scene in “Stand By Me.” Gordie and Chris are walking down the tracks talking about junior high. Chris is telling Gordie, “I wish to hell I was your dad, because I care about you, and he obviously doesn’t.”
It’s just so honest and direct, in a way that kids talk to each other that adults don’t. And I think that one of the reasons that really sticks with people, and that piece really lands on a lot of audiences, and has for 40 years, is, just too many people have been Gordie in that scene.
That scene is virtually word for word taken from the text of the book. And when I was narrating that, I made a deliberate choice to do my best to recreate what River did in that scene.
“You’re just a kid,
Gordie–”
“I wish to fuck
I was your father!”
he said angrily.
“You wouldn’t go around
talking about takin those stupid shop courses if I was!
It’s like
God gave you something,
all those stories
you can make up, and He said:
This is what we got for you, kid.
Try not to lose it.
But kids lose everything
unless somebody looks out for them and if your folks
are too fucked up to do it
then maybe I ought to.”
I watched that scene a couple of times because I really wanted — I don’t know why it was so important to me to — well, I know: because I loved him, and I miss him. And I wanted to bring him into this as best as I could, right?
So I was reading that scene, and the words are identical to the script. And I had this very powerful flashback to being on the train tracks that day in Cottage Grove, Oregon. And I could see River standing next to them. They’re shooting my side of the scene and there’s River, right next to the camera, doing his off-camera dialogue, and there’s the sound guy, and there’s the boom operator. There’s my key light.
I could hear and feel it. It was the weirdest thing. It’s like I was right back there.
I was able to really take in the emotional memory of being Gordie in all of those scenes. So when I was narrating him and I’m me and I’m old with all of this experience, I just drew on what I remembered from being that little boy and what I remember of those friendships and what they meant to me and what they mean to me today.
“Rob gave me a gift. Rob gave me a career.”
Wheaton recalls the “Stand By Me” director’s way with kids on set, as well as his recent Oscars tribute.
Rob really encouraged us to be kids.
Jerry tells the most amazing story about that scene, where we were all sitting around, and doing our bit, and he improvised. He was just goofing around — we were just playing — and he said something about spitting water at the fat kid.
We get to the end of the scene, and he hears Rob. Rob comes around from behind the thing, and he goes, “Jerry!” And Jerry thinks, “Oh no, I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble because I improvised, and I’m not supposed to improvise.”
The context for Jerry is that he had been told by the adults in his life, “Sit on your hands and shut up. Stop trying to be a cutup. Stop trying to be funny. Stop disrupting people. Just be quiet.” And Jerry thinks, “Oh my God. I didn’t shut up. I’m in trouble. I’m gonna get fired.”
Rob leans in to all of us, and Rob says, “Hey, guys, do you see that? More of that. Do that!”
The whole time when you’re a kid actor, you’re just around all these adults who are constantly telling you to grow up. They’re mad that you’re being a kid. Rob just created an environment where not only was it supported that we would be kids — and have fun, and follow those kid instincts and do what was natural — it was expected. It was encouraged. We were supposed to do it.
They chanted together:
“I don’t shut up,
I grow up.
And when I look at you I throw up.”
“Then your mother goes around the corner
and licks it up,”
I said, and hauled ass out of there,
giving them the finger over my shoulder as I went.
I never had any friends later on
like the ones I had when I was twelve.
Jesus, did you?
When we were at the Oscars, I looked at Jerry. And we looked at this remarkable assemblage of the most amazingly talented, beautiful artists and storytellers. We looked around, and Jerry leans down, and he said, “We all got our start with Rob Reiner. He trusted every single one of us.”
And to stand there for him, when I really thought that I would be standing with him to talk about this stuff — it was a lot.
“I was really really really excited — like jumping up and down.”
The scene Wheaton was most looking forward to narrating: the tale of Lard Ass Hogan.
I was so excited to narrate it. It’s a great story! It’s a funny story. It’s such a lovely break — it’s an emotional and tonal shift from what’s happening in the movie.
I know this as a writer: You work to increase and release tension throughout a narrative, and Stephen King uses humor really effectively to release that tension. But it also raises the stakes, because we have these moments of joy and these moments of things being very silly in the midst of a lot of intensity.
That’s why the story of Lard Ass Hogan is so fun for me to tell. Because in the middle of that, we stop to do something that’s very, very fun, and very silly and very celebratory.
“Will you shut up and let him tell it?”
Teddy hollered.
Vern blinked.
“Sure. Yeah.
Okay.”
“Go on, Gordie,”
Chris said. “It’s not really much—”
“Naw,
we don’t expect much from a wet end like you,”
Teddy said,
“but tell it anyway.”
I cleared my throat. “So anyway.
It’s Pioneer Days,
and on the last night
they have these three big events.
There’s an egg-roll for the little kids and a sack-race for kids that are like eight or nine,
and then there’s the pie-eating contest.
And the main guy of the story
is this fat kid nobody likes
named Davie Hogan.”
When I narrate this story — whenever there is a moment of levity or humor, whenever there are those brief little moments that are the seasoning of the meal that makes it all so real and relatable — yes, it was very important to me to capture those moments.
I’m shifting in my chair, so I can feel each of those characters. It’s something that doesn’t exist in live action. It doesn’t exist in any other media.
“I feel the loss.”
Wheaton remembers River Phoenix.
The novella “The Body” is very much about Gordie remembering Chris. It’s darker, and it’s more painful, than the movie is.
I’ve been watching the movie on this tour and seeing River a lot. I remember him as a 14- and 15-year-old kid who just seemed so much older, and so much more experienced and so much wiser than me, and I’m only a year younger than him.
What hurts me now, and what I really felt when I was narrating this, is knowing what River was going through then. We didn’t know. I still don’t know the extent of how he was mistreated, but I know that he was. I know that adults failed him. That he should have been protected in every way that matters. And he just wasn’t.
And I, like Gordie, remember a boy who was loving. So loving, and generous and cared deeply about everyone around him, all the time. Who deserved to live a full life. Who had so much to offer the world. And it’s so unfair that he’s gone and taken from us. I had to go through a decades-long grieving process to come to terms with him dying.
Near the end
of 1971,
Chris
went into a Chicken Delight in Portland
to get a three-piece Snack Bucket.
Just ahead of him,
two men started arguing
about which one had been first in line. One of them pulled a knife.
Chris,
who had always been the best of us
at making peace,
stepped between them and was stabbed in the throat.
The man with the knife had spent time in four different institutions;
he had been released from Shawshank State Prison
only the week before.
Chris died almost instantly.
It is a privilege that I was allowed to tell this story. I get to tell Gordie Lachance’s story as originally imagined by Stephen King, with all of the experience of having lived my whole adult life with the memory of spending three months in Gordie Lachance’s skin.
Culture
Do You Know the Comics That Inspired These TV Adventures?
Welcome to Great Adaptations, the Book Review’s regular multiple-choice quiz about printed works that have gone on to find new life as movies, television shows, theatrical productions and more. This week’s challenge highlights offbeat television shows that began as comic books. Just tap or click your answers to the five questions below. And scroll down after you finish the last question for links to the comics and their screen versions.
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