“Our team plays so free. They do not flinch.”

These, the words of South Carolina head coach Dawn Staley in the aftermath of her team’s historic 87-75 win over Iowa on Sunday, tying an emphatic bow on 38 wins, zero losses, and the Gamecocks third National Championship since 2017. 

Who am I to craft a lede of my own phrasing when the moment calls for us to pause, hear Dawn Staley, and appreciate her joyous team of champions? To beam at what Staley has created and internalize how she approaches the hefty responsibility implicit in coaching college basketball? 

A team in the biggest game of its life is only free and unflinching if the person in charge has fostered such an environment. This doesn’t happen over the course of a single season. In Columbia, the foundation has been laid piece-by-piece for over 15 years. 

Staley forges bonds that remain intact when players transfer or graduate. Her relationships are not built on the basis of basketball, but rather through deep, personal connection. It’s not transactional; it’s love. South Carolina players would run through a brick wall for Dawn Staley because she runs through brick walls for them every single day. 

Would also run through a brick wall for @dawnstaley 🫶 pic.twitter.com/0Du3tFuiyl

— South Carolina Women’s Basketball (@GamecockWBB) April 8, 2024

Before I go micro and dive into the details of South Carolina’s enthralling 40 minutes of championship excellence, one more note on the macro. By establishing core tenets of love, care, and respect, by building a family, Staley is able to successfully erect another pillar of the program: accountability. When freshman MiLaysia Fulwiley was benched earlier in the season during a tight tussle with North Carolina, she understood the decision wasn’t personal—it simply meant she must work harder and improve a certain aspect of her game (in this case, defense).

The macro fuels South Carolina’s impenetrable engine and makes what the program has accomplished meaningful beyond words, but the micro allows SC to soar above its competition. 

Many buck at acknowledging what, to me, is painfully obvious: Dawn Staley is elite in the field of X’s and O’s. 

The Gamecocks’ downfall in their 77-73 loss to Iowa during last year’s Final Four was a well-documented lack of three-point shooting. Staley brought in Oregon sharp-shooter Te-Hina Paopao this offseason, and Paopao’s scorching touch from deep helped the Gamecocks flip the script, becoming one of the country’s most lethal three-point shooting teams. They ranked third in Division 1 in three-point percentage, after finishing 171st and 181st in the country each of the prior two seasons. Staley’s schematic adjustments were equally responsible for the 180—incorporating more spread pick-and-roll looks and using the gravity of SC’s dominant bigs to create open kick-out opportunities out of post-ups. 

With South Carolina atop every offensive and defensive leaderboard in Division 1 (the Gamecocks have led the nation in Net Rating three years in a row, per Her Hoop Stats), the only question entering Cleveland’s 2024 Final Four was one of experience.

Bree Hall, Kamilla Cardoso, and Sania Feigan played a combined 20 minutes when South Carolina beat UConn in the 2022 National Championship. In the 2023 Final Four against Iowa, Cardoso played 32 minutes, Raven Johnson played 29, and Hall played 7.

That was the full scope of Final Four experience South Carolina possessed entering its matchup with NC State on Friday. No Aliyah Boston, Destanni Henderson, Zia Cooke, Laeticia Amihere, Brea Beal, or Victaria Saxton to help the cause. 

No problem. NC State battled admirably, trailing by a single point at halftime, but you can only stave off the inevitable for so long. All season long, Dawn trusted the depth, which wore down opponents by the time the second half took its toll. The Gamecocks separated out of the break, taking the third quarter by a decisive 29-6 margin. In the end, South Carolina won handily, 78-59.

I suppose I should talk about the championship game now, huh? 

Free and unflinching. Prepared beyond belief.

South Carolina did not blink when Iowa opened a 10-0 lead Sunday, the Hawkeyes exiting pregame introductions and entering play like a boxer looking to settle some beef.

South Carolina did not blink when Iowa extended that lead, 20-9, halfway through the first quarter.

South Carolina did not blink as Caitlin Clark threw Hawkeye faithful into a frenzy, her ludicrous threes and muscling drives producing a thunderous harmony of delirium that rained from the rafters down to the court.

Not so much as a flinch from a single South Carolina player, nary a hint of concern. 

All you really need to know about the first quarter of the National Championship? Staley never called timeout. Experience be damned, Staley knew her players had the tools and demeanor to find their groove on their own. 

And frankly, once South Carolina began grooving, that was that—a persistent march of hustle, gritty defense, relentless rebounding, and unforgiving shotmaking on the road to triumph.

The Gamecocks methodically chipped away at Iowa’s belief, the nine-deep South Carolina rotation forming an orchestra of devastation, each crescendo louder than the last. I’d assume playing South Carolina feels like swimming against a rip current. At a certain point, fatigue gives way to resignation. 

The plays that defined this momentous game (24 million viewers at its peak!) were not logo threes or mind-boggling assists. 

It was Raven Johnson punctuating the first half by poaching the ball from a briefly inattentive Clark and taking it the other way for two.

It was MiLaysia Fulwiley impersonating a football safety and deflecting Clark’s full-court pass out of bounds to prevent an easy layup. 

It was Ashlyn Watkins refusing to hang her head after a South Carolina turnover, sprinting to the other end of the court and poking the ball away to regain possession. 

It was Bree Hall, arguably the coolest customer on the Gamecocks, hitting a fourth quarter mid-range jumper just when things were on the precipice of becoming a tad sweaty. 

It was Te-Hina Paopao and Tessa Johnson combining to shoot 6-for-10 from behind-the-arc, each three a devastating blow, the net itself asking these stellar guards to chill out. 

It was Chloe Kitts creating extra possessions by tapping rebounds to teammates, recording a double-double in 17 minutes. 

It was Sania Feagin finishing at the rim, dashing Iowa’s hopes that there may be a drop-off in production while Gamecock starters were resting.

It was Kamilla Cardoso, the backbone of the team, who, in the words of Staley, “wouldn’t let us lose,” through complete domination of the paint on both ends. 

I could wax poetic for hours about this storybook journey: Raven Johnson’s smothering defense on Clark and the meaning it carried following 2023; freshman Tessa Johnson’s emergence as one of the best scorers in the tournament, meeting each moment as the stage grew larger and larger; Fulwiley’s gasp-inducing change of pace offense; Cardoso’s ever-so-steady hand. 

Yet it would be a disservice to Dawn and the Gamecocks to belabor the point. If you haven’t recognized their greatness by now, perhaps you simply don’t want to see it.

It only feels right to close where I began, in discussing the macro, those elements of South Carolina women’s basketball that transcend the game. 

As tears trickled down Staley’s face in the aftermath of victory—the legendary coach pausing to gather herself and soak in such a beautiful moment—who stood beside her but Aliyah Boston.

Boston was South Carolina’s best player during the 2022 championship season, is now a star on the Indiana Fever, and worked for ESPN during the Final Four as an analyst on the pregame, halftime, and postgame show. She was exceptional. 

Boston’s warmth and joy is apparent from the first time you hear her speak. Yet Boston’s own tears following a heartbreaking loss in 2021 were played on loop for a full year by the same network she would later grace with her talent. This weaponization of sadness centered a low point in the career of a college student for the sake of lazy narrative building. Boston rose above and rewrote her own story, but she never should’ve had to navigate such hurt in the first place.

Staley was there every step of the way, calling out the nasty coverage, standing by her superstar, and showering her with love. This is a vastly different narrative from the one haphazardly peddled by ESPN. In this story, thoughtful care for an individual you mentor paves the way toward a lifelong bond. 

This bond states, with clarity, “I am here for you always, and I hope you’ll join me in enjoying the splendor of what we’ve built.”

A rainstorm of confetti and tears of joy.

The South Carolina way.