There’s no athlete in the history of Philadelphia with a more impressive résumé than Staley, and now she’s on the brink of leading her South Carolina Gamecocks to yet another NCAA title. How much does she have left to achieve?
Dawn Staley / Photograph by C. Morgan Engel/NCAA Photos/Getty Images
Dawn Staley walks gingerly (thank you, eight knee surgeries) onto the Carolina Coliseum court carrying a cup of coffee, with Champ, her seven-year-old Havanese, skittering next to her, and finds two of her University of South Carolina basketball players singing.
It’s a Saturday morning in mid-December, and Staley’s Gamecocks are just three weeks removed from a 15-point beatdown at UCLA that ended a 43-game winning streak, and a day past the end of fall final exams. Staley, whose all-business persona is a reflection of her North Philly roots, does something she would not have done 10 years ago: She sings along.
It’s a quick performance. Then she and Champ move to the sideline to mingle with other players, coaches, and support staff before a video session on the next day’s opponent, the University of South Florida. Staley is dressed in a black sweatsuit and, despite being shorter than just about everyone there, commands the gym. Three national titles engender that respect.
It’s not just the success that distinguishes her. The Gamecocks have a deep affection for Staley, who built a winning program from a one-time Southeastern Conference afterthought and has adjusted her approach — but never her standards — to a new generation of players that requires more gentle guidance. Attention spans are shorter. Players need explanations before doing things. They are obsessed with social media. Staley says her core principles of coaching are 25 years old, but she treats her players with more understanding these days.
“I don’t think anybody does it as well as she does it,” says South Carolina executive associate athletics director Maria Hickman. “She recognizes the needs of the person and not just the team.”
When Staley arrived in Columbia in 2008 after coaching for eight years at Temple, she was a disciplinarian. The Gamecocks had posted just two winning seasons in SEC play prior to her arrival. “We were a doormat,” says Jewel May, who was a sophomore when Staley arrived. Five years later, South Carolina won its first-ever SEC title. The next season brought its first Final Four. And in 2017, Carolina won the national championship. Last year’s squad went 38-0 en route to a third crown (the other came in 2022), and the Gamecocks are serious contenders this season. There is no college coach in America better than Staley, and there is no person ever born in the Delaware Valley with a greater athletic résumé.
The short version goes like this: Staley was the national high school player of the year as a senior at Dobbins Tech and a two-time national college player of the year at the University of Virginia. She was a five-time WNBA All-Star, a three-time Olympic gold medalist, and the U.S. flag bearer at the 2004 Athens Games. As a coach, she has won three NCAA titles, is a four-time National Coach of the Year, and directed the 2020 U.S. team to Olympic gold. In 2013, she was inducted into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.
Kobe Bryant was an otherworldly player, but he never coached. Reggie Jackson hit 563 homers and won five World Series, but he never managed. Wilt Chamberlain was amazing, but his one season coaching in the ABA was a bust. Mike Piazza and Mike Trout? Great, but not in Staley’s class. Geno Auriemma has won more national championships (11) coaching at Connecticut, but he never played.
“I can’t think of anyone [from the area] who reached as high a level as a player and an even higher level as a coach than Dawn has,” says former Villanova men’s basketball coach Jay Wright. “If you look at what she has done as a player and coach, it’s incomparable.”
Staley’s impact on the lives of people with whom she has played and coached might be even more impressive.
“She’s a leader,” says longtime assistant and confidant Lisa Boyer. “I think she has a good feel for people and certainly for athletes when they are out on the floor. I think she does it now with our kids.”
Dawn Staley with forward Ashlyn Watkins in 2023 / Photograph via Getty Images
Staley will sing, she will appear in TikTok videos with her players, and she will “be at their service,” as she puts it. But her non-negotiable standards recall her mom, Estelle, who raised Staley and her four siblings in the notorious Raymond Rosen housing projects without compromise. Staley is the modern-day version of Estelle and handles players as if they were her children.
“What I tell [players’] parents is ‘I’m going to treat your kid like I birthed her,’” Staley says. “That’s tough love. That’s discipline. That’s being a resource. ‘I’m going to be everything your child will need.’”
Staley is supported by a community that includes Boyer — “my ‘soulcoach’” — an army of former players and assistants who comprise her basketball family, and of course, Champ, whom she recruited after the 2017 championship and Estelle’s death following a bout with Alzheimer’s. They walk with Staley as she builds teams and young women.
“Players are different, and that’s the beauty of Dawn,” Boyer says. “She can transcend that. She can meet them where they’re at. But they have to meet her too.”
And that means each must take something of a trip to North Philly.
•
CONSTRUCTION ON THE Raymond Rosen Homes began in 1952, with the goal of providing affordable housing in North Philadelphia; the eight 13-story high-rises and 308 rowhomes were the largest Philadelphia Housing Authority complex in city history. But the high-rises and rowhomes instead became symbols of the city’s racial divide. Though they were plagued by crime and gang warfare, they were also a center of Black life in North Philadelphia; Martin Luther King Jr. spoke there in 1965. They eventually fell into significant disrepair and were torn down in 1995.
Bo Kimble, who graduated from Dobbins in 1985 and played three NBA seasons, didn’t grow up in the Rosen homes but spent plenty of time there with his friend and teammate Hank Gathers, a Rosen resident.
“It was the toughest neighborhood in the city,” he says. “If you ended up around the wrong crowd, you were going to get chased home. I was there all the time. If you found yourself with the wrong group, you either had to fight your way home or run your way home.”
Staley doesn’t look down on her childhood neighborhood. “I love where I grew up,” she says. She believes it forged her powerful spirit.
“It created strength,” she says. “It created toughness, perseverance. It created all those things. I was unafraid when I left town, of anything. I’m still unafraid. I do think that my foundation was formed off of growing up in the projects.”
Estelle moved with husband Clarence into a high-rise in 1967 and later into the three-bedroom, one-bath house at 2402 West Glenwood Avenue. Both had grown up in South Carolina. Staley was born in 1970, the youngest of five children, after Lawrence, Anthony, Tracey, and Eric. Estelle made sure they were neat, pressed, and obedient. “She always wanted order,” says Staley’s sister, Tracey Underwood.
That meant the kids kept the house clean, did their homework, and completed chores.
Clarence Staley was “a provider, not a nurturer,” according to Staley, who said in her Hall of Fame acceptance speech that he wasn’t “an advocate” of her playing basketball. Clarence did construction work for the state, and Underwood says he was “a very talented man.” But Estelle was the primary influence on Staley.
“My mom was a very caring person, a very giving person,” Staley says. “She was the adult in the neighborhood other kids could talk to. I’m like that as a coach, with my players and other players.” Underwood says Estelle “was a big presence in many people’s lives.”
Kamesha Hairston, who played at Temple from 2003 to 2007, remembers Estelle as a “sweetheart” who cooked for players during the holidays. “She was a beautiful lady, but she didn’t play. She was at the games, and you could hear her,” Hairston says.
Staley started playing basketball in grade school, exclusively against boys. “They were the only measuring stick in the neighborhood,” Staley says. She thrived. “You couldn’t take the ball off her,” says Darrell Gates, who played with Kimble and Gathers on the 1985 Dobbins Public League title team. “She could pass her ass off. She was like Magic Johnson. She knew where everybody was on the court.”
Staley’s home court was nearby Moylan (now Hank Gathers Memorial) Recreation Center at 25th and Diamond, but she was a force at any other court or league in the city. “She just demolished everybody,” says Alison Eachus, who coached Staley in the AAU Philadelphia Belles and later coached against her at William Penn High School. “She was smart. She knew what was going on. She was very dedicated.”
Basketball helped Staley avoid the projects’ dangers. “If you were a baller, you could travel the city safely,” says Philadelphia basketball legend Sonny Hill. Staley was a baller, and playing against anyone, anywhere, prepared her for later life. “Growing up in North Philly, if you could handle yourself on and off the court, you could take that anywhere,” Kimble says.
Lurline Jones coached girls basketball in Philadelphia for more than 50 years, beginning in 1971, and saw many of the best players in city history: Yolanda Laney, Marilyn Stephens, Linda Page, Earline Tinsley, Val Phillips. And then there was Staley. Jones tried to recruit Staley to University City High School, but Staley wouldn’t get up early to take a bus to school. She could walk to Dobbins, where Page, who once scored 100 points in a game, had played. During one game against U City, Staley was on the bench in foul trouble, and Jones told her team to take control. “My girls told me, ‘If we’re going to win, w’re going to win with Dawn in the game, not with Dawn out of the game,’” Jones says. “I was taken back. That’s how much respect they had for her.”
Staley averaged 33.1 points per game in high school and, as a senior in 1988, was named USA Today’s national player of the year. “Hands down, Dawn was the best girl who has come out of Philly,” Gates says.
Several national college powerhouses recruited Staley, but she narrowed her options to Penn State and Virginia, neither of which was a national force. She went to UVA hoping to lift the Cavalier program. “I wanted to go to a school that didn’t win a national championship, that was close enough to winning a national championship, that I could help,” she says. “I like to be a part of firsts.”
Dawn Staley playing at University of Virginia in 1991 / Photograph via Getty Images
As a freshman, Staley helped UVA to a 21-10 record and the NCAA Tournament Sweet 16 by averaging an impressive 18.5 points, 4.6 assists, and 3.3 steals per game. “She could see passes three or four moves ahead of time,” says then-Virginia coach Debbie Ryan. “It was incredible.” But Staley turned the ball over too frequently. “She was a player who needed freedom but needed guardrails,” Ryan says. “What she liked about [Virginia’s] system was she could express herself. I had to figure out as a coach how much freedom she needed and how much help I had to give her.”
Staley acknowledges that she was coughing the ball up too much. “I think I averaged five turnovers freshman year,” she says. “Debbie was really good at allowing me to learn from my mistakes.” Staley vowed not to make as many errors going forward. “If you brought something to my attention I wasn’t doing well, I would work on it,” she says. “So I fixed it.”
Staley learned to take better care of the ball, and Virginia soared. So did Staley, who was a three-time All-American and the Naismith Player of the Year in 1991 and ’92. UVA retired her number 24 after she led the Cavaliers to three straight Final Fours from 1990 through ’92 and scored 2,135 career points, then the school record. UVA fell to Tennessee in the ’91 championship game, which was tough, but the following year’s 66-65 loss to Stanford in the national semifinal was crushing. Staley thought it was her last chance at a college title. She was wrong.
“What’s delayed is not denied,” she says.•
AFTER THE GAMECOCKS complete their video breakdown, they begin practice, and Champ is the best-behaved participant — although he must be chased off the court several times. Staley looks at Boyer, who clearly disapproves of the players’ lax approach, and sighs. “It’s an all-time day-care day,” she says.
The players smile, joke, and talk trash as they run drills. Someone reminds Staley that finals are over, and her team is happy. “They’ve released themselves,” she says. “It sucks to be us.”
But all Staley has to say is “UCLA” to redirect the team. Big eruptions don’t work like they used to, so Staley has streamlined her message. It’s a next-level approach from a next-level leader. “She was a consummate point guard,” Boyer says. “She really ran the team. She was a great leader on and off the floor. She was a great leader in the locker room. Dawn had a standard, and she brought everybody up with her to that standard.”
There was no professional women’s league in the U.S. when Staley graduated from Virginia, so from 1992 to 1994 she played in France, Italy, Brazil, and Spain and was expected to score big every game. For someone who preferred passing, that was difficult.
Dawn Staley playing in the 1994 Goodwill Games / Photograph via Getty Images
“If you didn’t score 50 points a night, and the team lost, it was your fault,” she says. The U.S. women’s basketball landscape changed in 1996. In April of that year, the NBA announced the formation of the WNBA, and in October, the competing American Basketball League debuted. In between, the U.S. rolled to a gold medal at the Atlanta Olympics.
Staley joined legends like Lisa Leslie, Sheryl Swoopes, and Katrina McClain on that Olympic team, in what she considers “the most memorable experience” of her basketball career. “She was a leader on the floor and a great teammate,” says the team’s coach, Tara VanDerveer, who won three national titles while coaching at Stanford. “She never sulked. It was never about her own statistics. It was always about the team.” Current Georgia Tech coach Nell Fortner was an assistant on the ’96 team and says Staley’s teammates “would have followed her off a cliff.”
Staley spent two years in the ABL before it folded in 1998. It was there she met Boyer, her head coach during the 1996-97 season in Richmond. Boyer marveled at Staley’s competitive nature. “If you’re playing cards with her, if you’re playing a game with her, obviously, if you’re doing anything athletically, she wants to win,” she says.
Staley loves playing cards — hearts, spades, tunk — and always has a deck nearby. “I never played with her, but I do believe she would get ‘creative’ to win,” May says. Ryan says she goes further than that, which Boyer disputes: “She’s going to take advantage of everything you throw her way.” Staley has a simpler explanation: “I’m just very good at [cards].”
Staley entered the WNBA in 1999 and spent eight years with Charlotte and Houston, earning All-Star honors five times thanks to her passing, leadership, and fierce approach to the game. The respect she had earned was evident when she was chosen to carry the U.S. flag at the opening ceremony of the 2004 Olympic Games. During her Hall of Fame acceptance speech, Staley said she had reflected during her walk around the Olympic Stadium track about those who had impacted her life, from “the boys I grew up playing with at 25th and Diamond” to VanDerveer to Clarence, “who was quietly my biggest fan,” to, of course, Estelle.
“I knew that every step I took, she took with me,” Staley said. “She is and has been my savior.”
Staley retired as a player in 2006 but didn’t have to wonder what her next step would be. She had already taken it. And it had brought her back home.
•
WHILE STALEY WAS playing for the ABL, Boyer told her she would be a good coach. Staley wouldn’t consider it. “I don’t ever want to be one of you,” she said.
In 2000, the late Dave O’Brien, then Temple’s athletic director, contacted her after the Owls’ 10th straight losing season. Staley had no intention of taking the position. “She said, ‘I’m going to go over there and be polite,’” Boyer says. The fact that she was even talking with O’Brien was unprecedented. Staley was still playing in the WNBA, and its season ran from late spring until early September; she would have to focus on her playing career during the important summer months, when significant recruiting of players took place. No other Division I coach was splitting responsibilities like that.
O’Brien appealed to Staley’s competitive nature and love of North Philadelphia. She bought his pitch and did what she said she would never do.
“I’m drawn to challenges,” she says. “[O’Brien] basically challenged me to turn the women’s basketball program around. And I wasn’t ever faced with that kind of challenge. So, just the competitor in me. It’s weird. Twenty-five years later. It’s crazy.”
Staley’s Owls went 19-11 her first year, and they reached the NCAA Tournament her second. Staley was tough and uncompromising, just as she was as a player. “She was super competitive,” says Kamesha Hairston, who played for Staley from 2003 to 2007. “She played with a lot of discipline and a lot of heart, and she instilled that in the players. You had to bring it. You saw her fire. You wanted to play hard to win for her.”
Staley spent eight seasons on North Broad Street and led the Owls to six NCAA tourney appearances. She played in the WNBA during six of those seasons, combining on-court responsibilities with summer coaching requirements like recruiting. Her staff — including Boyer, who joined her in 2002 — helped, but Staley was heavily involved. “She needed a lot of energy [to play and coach], but she was able to transcend that,” says Bill Bradshaw, Temple’s athletic director from 2002 to 2013.
Because she was in game shape, Staley used to play sometimes in scrimmages. “She was relentless,” Hairston says. “You wanted to play your best because you had a legend on the court with you. You wanted to beat her.”
Staley’s teams were nasty. “People hated playing against us,” says Candice Dupree, who played at Temple from 2002 to 2006 and went on to become a seven-time WNBA All-Star. The teams were reminiscent of those of the legendary John Chaney, Temple’s men’s coach from 1982 to 2006, who according to Bradshaw called Staley “Baby Chaney.” Chaney was a mentor, friend, and advocate. Once, Staley’s Owls lost a game on a questionable referee’s call. She went to confront the official, but Chaney was already screaming at the ref.
“I miss him dearly,” Staley says of Chaney, who died in 2021. “I do credit him for [my] being the disciplined coach that I am.”
Staley was a single-minded player, but to lead the players on the court she had to know them off it — and let them know her. Staley has a fun side, as the TikTok videos show. Katie Smith, who played with Staley on two Olympic teams, calls her “lively” and says that “she’s one of the quickest-witted people I know.” One Halloween, Dupree got ahold of Staley’s outfit from the 2004 Olympic opening ceremony and wore it to a team party. “She thought it was funny,” Dupree says. Staley went as another Philly legend — Allen Iverson.
Staley could have fun, but it wasn’t always enjoyable to receive some of her messages. “That’s what we needed,” says Lady Comfort, who played at Temple from 2004 to 2008. “She was a coach who would push you and give it to you raw.”
Staley’s success attracted attention, and in 2008, South Carolina hired her away from North Broad. Bradshaw says other schools had approached her for several years, and though Staley was loyal to her hometown — “I’m always Philly; I’ll never lose that,” she says — she accepted the challenge of building a program in the rugged SEC. Estelle moved to South Carolina after Staley took the job, reconnecting with her roots. (Clarence died in 2006.)
Photograph by C. Morgan Engel/NCAA Photos/Getty Images
When she took over in the spring of 2008, the program was “passive” and had “no urgency and no edge,” according to May. “We weren’t a team on the schedule people were afraid to play.” Staley had to get the Gamecocks to match their SEC opponents’ toughness. “There was an immediate change in atmosphere the moment she stepped on campus,” May says. Staley’s first few seasons were uneven, but the Gamecocks reached the NCAA Tournament in her fourth year. They won the SEC title in 2014 and advanced to the Final Four the following season.
“They are always prepared to play,” says University of Texas coach Vic Schaefer. “They have a level of toughness and competitive spirit about them that separates them. Sometimes, your jump shot doesn’t travel. But defense travels, and toughness travels.”
Wright was an assistant on the U.S. men’s team at the 2020 Olympics and remembers that Staley spent the 14-hour flight to Tokyo watching film and talking with her assistants. Her detailed approach impressed him. “She was really focused,” Wright says. “She set the tone for everyone around her.”
Staley has built a community around the South Carolina team, and the fans have responded. The Gamecocks have led the nation in attendance each of the last 10 seasons, quite an accomplishment in football country; as of late January, Carolina had gone more than 1,500 days without losing a home game. Staley and the players are accessible to fans after games. She’s a huge Beyoncé fan, so she started the “G-Hive” for the Gamecock faithful. “She draws people to her,” Ryan says. “She finds time for everyone.”
Dawn Staley during a January game / Photograph via South Carolina Athletics
A lot of that time with players is teaching them how to navigate life’s pain and challenges, from which many parents shield their children. “The world is a treacherous place,” she says. “If they don’t hurt at some point, they’re not going to know how to deal with hurt out there.” The lessons stick.
“She’s everything in one person: a mother, mentor, disciplinarian,” says Markeshia Grant, who played at South Carolina from 2010 to 2012. “You’re going to get the best of all of that when you play for Coach Staley. You will always have someone who will look out for you.”
Fortner, who coached against Staley when she was at Auburn, provides the highest compliment:
“I would feel comfortable sending my child to her,” Fortner says.
In 2017, South Carolina went 33-4 and defeated Mississippi State to win the national title. Staley celebrated by sending replica championship trophies with the inscription “Because of you” to all of her former players, teammates, coaches, and assistants. It was a classic way for Staley to celebrate those who joined her on her journey.
“For my entire life, I had seen women play for national championships and in the Olympics, but I never got it done in college,” she says. “I never thought I would get it done. I never thought I would be a coach. To finally do that was a relief. It happened when it was supposed to happen.”•
ASSISTANT COACH Mary Wooley’s preteen son, Hayes, darts across the court during a break in practice. He has just finished a youth league game and has the same frisky energy as Champ. He greets his mom and walks over to Staley, who looks at him sternly.
“Did you have a game?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Did you wear a mouthguard?”
Hayes tries to change the subject, but Staley won’t let him.
“Did you wear a mouthguard?” She is more insistent. He nods.
Everyone sitting courtside smiles. Staley cares about people, but she won’t compromise.
Staley still makes her “Philly face,” as May refers to it, when players commit too many errors. Early in the game with South Florida, a 78-62 victory, she is furious when two straight possessions end in turnovers. She hollers at the offending guards and kicks her right leg out in fury.
“She holds us all to a high standard,” says junior forward Chloe Kitts. “We know when to be serious and when not to be. She has made it clear it’s not all fun and games. We’re trying to win.”
When Staley says, “It’s hard to be young nowadays,” it sounds pretty rich, considering how she grew up, in the projects, with Estelle looking for every wrinkle in her clothes or crease in her behavior. But she means it. “She has done a good job adjusting to us,” says senior guard Te-Hina Paopao. Khadijah Sessions, who played at South Carolina from 2013 to 2016 and is the first former player to join Staley’s coaching staff, says Staley was uncompromising at first, in order to build a winning culture, but is “changing with the eras.”
Dawn Staley and former Villanova coach Jay Wright throwing out the first pitch during the 2023 NLCS / Photograph via Getty Images
Some of her former players consider Staley’s rounded edges amusing.
“She’s so soft now, unbelievably soft,” says three-time WNBA MVP A’ja Wilson, who played at South Carolina from 2014 to 2018. “It’s kind of like crazy to see. When I go to games, I’m laughing at her. ‘Where was that when I played for you?’”
Staley’s understanding of today’s young people goes beyond her willingness to make TikTok videos, and her approach still focuses on helping them prepare for life “in the trenches.” Estelle did it with her children through discipline and consequences. “That’s just a mother’s love,” Staley says.
The connection she forges stays strong long after players graduate — and they do, at a 99.9 percent rate, Staley reports. She says her “basketball family has been first for a long time, and my real family has taken a back seat.” She is available at all times to past and current players. “Once you’re in that family, you’re in that family forever,” Hairston says.
In March 2020, Staley’s real family came first. Underwood was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia and would need chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant. Staley marvels at how Underwood always showed strength throughout her treatment. Staley tapped her extensive network to find the best care for her sister, including her cardiologist at the Cleveland Clinic. (In 2016 Staley was diagnosed with pericarditis, a condition she is four years clear of.) It was a “full-court press” and “a game plan” that ended with Underwood getting a transplant from her brother Lawrence — a 100 percent match — and beating the disease.
Underwood says Staley made the trip from Columbia to Durham, North Carolina (where Underwood was hospitalized), often to care for her. “Dawn did beyond what she needed to do,” Underwood says. “Everything to Dawn is a challenge that she wants to win. She’s going to give everything she’s got.”
Staley credits basketball for teaching her how to handle high-stress situations. Cancer is more serious than the waning seconds of a tight game, but there are parallels. “I was a coach in that situation,” she says. “If I wasn’t a coach, I would have been boo-hooing.”
Staley has shown her commitment in other ways. At a press conference before last year’s national championship game, Staley was asked whether trans women should be able to play women’s sports. “If you consider yourself a woman, and you want to play sports, or vice versa, you should be able to play,” she said. The comment triggered substantial outrage, just as Staley’s protests about racial injustice did earlier this decade. “For as much heat as I have taken for making that statement, the trans community has lifted up everything these other folks have said,” she says.
Critics don’t upset Staley, who tries to be as nonjudgmental as possible. She considers other opinions but is true to her beliefs. “She’s very comfortable with who she is,” VanDerveer says. “She’s authentic.” That approach allows her to have difficult conversations with players. If she says something is “on [her] heart,” the players know what’s coming, according to Boyer. “She genuinely cares about them,” Boyer says. “She loves these kids. When she says she wants to be a ‘dream merchant,’ she means it. She’s in tune with them.”
Part of the reason Staley has been able to lighten up around her players is Champ, who she says “makes the turnovers look better” and “puts a positive spin on everything in life.” Staley is allergic to most dogs, including Ace, a dachshund-mix puppy her niece Mikayla persuaded Staley to let her watch while she was living with Staley in 2016. At first, Ace was confined to a crate in the garage, but Staley eventually bonded with the dog. At only a few months old, Ace was diagnosed with a brain disease, and in spring 2017 had to be put down. Staley becomes emotional when talking about losing Ace. “It rocked me uncontrollably,” she says.
Boyer noticed how Staley loved Ace and researched hypoallergenic dogs. She found a breeder with Havanese puppies for sale and as a gift for Staley, she made a down payment on one just a few days old. A month or so later, she went to pick up the dog, but “it was a dud,” Staley says. Champ ran up to Staley. “He chose me.”
Staley explains that if her life is the stones she has put into a jar over the years, Champ is the sand that fills the spaces between the stones. “I know people need paperwork to have an emotional support dog, but you shouldn’t have to have paperwork,” she says. “Everybody should be able to have one. They level you. They provide an equilibrium, all the time, every day.”
Boyer is even more important to Staley. Each describes their relationship as that of “an old married couple.” Boyer has surrendered her own coaching aspirations to support Staley, and the two have formed a powerful tandem. “They are the yin and yang,” May says. “You can’t have one without the other. There is an ebb and flow between them. They are great partners and know each other better than anyone. They drive each other crazy more than anyone, and they probably love one another more than anyone.”
Boyer agrees that she and Staley are family. “We fight, and we have disagreements, but at the end of the day, we’re going to come together,” Boyer says. The two check in constantly and share just about everything. “I have never seen a bond as close and tight-knit, other than my parents,” Wilson says. Staley is quick to praise Boyer. “She is really the reason we have been successful,” Staley says. “She keeps me straight. She knows what it’s supposed to look like.”
It should look like this for several more years, although in February 2024 Staley joked on ESPN’s College GameDay that she seriously considered retirement after the 2022-23 season, when Carolina graduated all five starters, instead of engaging in a rebuild. She turns 55 in May, which is still young; Auriemma is 70, and several other top coaches are in their 60s. Staley can relax at times, but she’s too energetic for retirement’s constant leisure. And since she signed a contract extension in January that stretches until the 2029-30 season — and makes her the highest-paid coach in women’s college basketball history — it’s unlikely she will step away anytime soon. “I would never leave here to go take another college job … [and] I don’t have a passion for the next level [WNBA],” she said at a late-January press conference.
Dawn Staley cutting down the nets following South Carolina’s 2015 SEC title. / Photograph via South Carolina Athletics
When she does retire, it won’t be to lie on a beach. “She’ll have to go to something else that will help the game or help players,” Ryan says. Other coaches have run from today’s climate, in which players can transfer with ease, get paid for their services, and need extra care, but Staley has embraced it. It’s not just Boyer who knows how it’s done.
One can argue that Staley has known the blueprint since she was a girl doing what Estelle told her, whipping the boys’ butts on the court, and leading teams with her mix of talent, knowledge, and North Philly fearlessness. “I think she does an outstanding job of recognizing where she comes from,” Hill says. And the city loves her. In 2017, it named the two blocks in front of the Gathers Rec Center “Dawn Staley Lane.” Staley may have the best sports résumé around, but what she does best is bring former players, coaches, teammates, and mentors along with her. “She has 1,000 adopted nieces and nephews,” May says.
Staley has learned that her network supports her even as she supports it. Some, like Boyer and Champ, have bigger roles. But anybody Staley encounters fortifies her. By helping others, she gets closer to Estelle, whose toughness sometimes masked her deep love.
“Although I lost her, I didn’t lose her strength,” Staley says. “I gained strength through her passing. She left us so much strength and legacy and the ability to impact people through us.”
Staley will continue to be a huge influence on the lives of players past and present. She’ll also keep winning. Most important, she will show that it is possible to change one’s approach without sacrificing standards. Staley is a 21st-century coach, but her toughness and unstinting commitment to making sure her players are ready to navigate life’s challenges recall an earlier time.
And the woman who showed her the way.
