SAN ANTONIO — In the final March of Collin Gillespie’s remarkable—and remarkably long—college basketball career, his father saw someone fall to the floor during a game at Finneran Pavilion. After a few seconds, Jim Gillespie recognized the Villanova player—his son.
“It might be an ankle,” guessed his wife, Therese. But when Collin tried to rise and couldn’t put any weight on his left leg, Jim knew “it had to be worse.”
This was March 3, 2021, as the regular season was coming to a close. Only close friends and family members sat scattered in the stands. At halftime, the Villanova team doctor found the Gillespie family and laid out both sides of his initial evaluation. The injury was significant, a torn MCL, and would require surgery. But the ACL in that knee appeared still intact, which, in theory, meant a shorter rehabilitation.
The “good” news did little to salve the family’s devastation. Collin had already played his Senior Day inside an empty gym, absent the usual celebration; he had, to that point, suffered no major injuries beyond what his father describes as “seven or eight broken noses and a broken hand.” He had fought his way to Villanova in the first place, played a small but not insignificant role on a national title team, had become a pillar and started to dream about playing in the NBA. His future was in flux. Thoughts raced through Jim’s mind, and he kept the worst one to himself.
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Collin underwent surgery to repair the ligament, then watched the rest of March Madness from the colonial-style house where he grew up in Philadelphia. He was immobilized, lost in a fog of anesthesia and unable to do what he does best, which is will, guide and shoot Villanova basketball to wins. He couldn’t shower for days, while his mother, an X-ray technician at a local hospital, changed bandages and washed wounds. He bought two sets of crutches, one for the upstairs and one for the downstairs, and to get from one to the other, he slid gingerly down steps. As the days dragged by, he spent more and more time in his room, watching basketball, his father popping in to try to cheer him up.
“Fortunately,” Jim says, “it wasn’t his last March.”
The twist! Because of the global pandemic, an NCAA exemption, the injury itself and how well he recovered, Collin returned for the 2021–22 season. It marked his fifth in college basketball. In some ways, it feels like his 45th. Villanova is an improbable college hoops power, but in its long and illustrious history, there’s no easy comparison to Gillespie and his part-of-the-furniture career. He has played in the most games, developing from a fringe prospect into a program’s soul. He isn’t flashy, can be feisty, won’t overwhelm opponents with athleticism, size or speed.
Collin Gillespie is just … . Polished. Fast. Complete. Can shoot from anywhere. Willing to do whatever must be done. Basically everything that’s on display March, when almost exactly a year after his surgery—367 days, to be exact—he vaulted the Wildcats over Creighton, the same opponent from the injury, to win this Big East tournament.
