Caitlin Clark had always remembered her time at Dowling Catholic High School in West Des Moines, Iowa, with fondness. It was where her journey to basketball stardom began, where she spent countless hours perfecting her shots and refining her game. So, when Caitlin found herself back in Iowa City for a brief visit, she decided to swing by the school that had shaped her future.
Her sleek white SUV rolled into the parking lot of Dowling, the afternoon sun glinting off the modern glass facade of the building. The campus had changed since her time there, but as Caitlin sat for a moment in the driver’s seat, she couldn’t help but reflect. She turned to her friend Mia, who had driven with her from Indiana, and asked, “You sure about this?”
Mia nodded. “Sometimes you need to revisit where it all started to understand where you’re headed.”
With a deep breath, Caitlin stepped out of the car, pulling on a hoodie and tightening the drawstrings. She hoped to blend in, to relive some nostalgic memories before anyone noticed her. The school had been renovated—touchscreen directories replaced the old bulletin boards—but the school’s maroon and white colors still dominated, and the familiar atmosphere comforted Caitlin.
As she entered the school, she was immediately struck by the scent of polished floors and the faint smell of rubber. The hallway buzzed faintly, with a few students lingering after school for clubs and practice. Caitlin smiled as two girls hurried past, talking about the latest TikTok trend, completely oblivious to her presence. Back in her day, Caitlin hadn’t been “Caitlin Clark” yet—just “Kate,” the determined girl practicing tirelessly to prove she belonged among the best.
Caitlin made her way toward the gym, passing display cases filled with trophies, photos, and mementos of past students. Her achievements were there too: framed jerseys, game statistics, and clippings from her record-breaking high school career. She hadn’t visited since graduating in 2020, and as she stepped into the gym, memories flooded back. The gym had been upgraded—new scoreboards, cushioned bleachers, and even a mural of Caitlin herself, draining a three-pointer in her Iowa Hawkeyes uniform with the caption “Dream big, shoot farther.”
As Caitlin traced the sidelines of the gym, she spotted a familiar figure sweeping the floor near the baseline. The man was older now, his gray hair thinning and posture slightly stooped, but the steady, meticulous movements were unmistakable. Caitlin paused, staring at him, her mind racing. It was Mr. Thompson—the janitor who had quietly encouraged her during her early high school struggles. He had been there for her through all the late-night practices, offering words of encouragement when she felt like giving up.
“Excuse me,” Caitlin called out as she approached him.
The man looked up, adjusting his glasses. “Jim’s booked for practice, miss, unless you’re here for the team.”
“No, just visiting,” Caitlin replied. “I used to go here.”
He nodded, his voice friendly. “Lots of alumni swing by when they get the chance.”
“I graduated in 2020,” Caitlin said with a smile. “You’ve been here a while.”
“Started in ’98,” Mr. Thompson said with a chuckle. “That’s quite a stretch.”
Caitlin studied him for a moment, recognition dawning. “Mr. Thompson? Is that you?”
He squinted at her, tilting his head. “Do I know you, young lady?”
“It’s Caitlin, Caitlin Clark,” she said, grinning.
His eyes widened as the realization hit him. “Caitlin Clark? The Caitlin Clark?” He shook his head in amazement, then offered a weathered hand. “Forgive me for not placing you sooner. My eyesight’s not what it was.”
Without hesitation, Caitlin bypassed his hand and pulled him into a quick hug. “I can’t believe you’re still here, Mr. Thompson. How long has it been?”
“27 years next spring,” he said with pride. “And I’m still sweeping floors full-time.”
Caitlin’s jaw dropped. “Still? You’re 70, Mr. Thompson! Why haven’t you retired?”
He shrugged. “No place else to go. School still needs keeping up.”
Caitlin gazed at him, the man who had been there for her through thick and thin, offering quiet encouragement when no one else did. “You still let kids practice early, don’t you?” she asked.
Mr. Thompson’s face brightened. “Sure do. You were always the first one here, last to leave. Never saw anyone grind like you.”
“That was because of you,” Caitlin said, smiling. “You let me stay after practice, gave me those extra 10 minutes, never complained.”
“I had to shoe you out so I could get home for supper,” he laughed.
Caitlin grinned. “My mom wasn’t too thrilled about those late nights.”
As Caitlin walked back through the halls, her mind raced. Mr. Thompson had been a quiet fixture in her high school life, but seeing him still working at 70, sweeping floors, broke her heart. She couldn’t let this man, who had given so much to so many, continue working like this without some help.
At 6:30 that evening, Caitlin was waiting outside the school by the front entrance. Mr. Thompson, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, appeared at the door. “Sorry to keep you,” he said, his face lighting up as he saw Caitlin. “Coach Riley wanted a word when he saw me heading out all spruced up.”
“No worries,” Caitlin replied, opening the passenger door of her sleek SUV. “We’re riding in this.”
Mr. Thompson’s eyes widened. “The fanciest thing I’ve been in was my cousin’s pickup.”
Caitlin smiled as she drove him to Benny’s Burgers, a local diner that had been around since the ’80s. As they ate, Caitlin learned more about Mr. Thompson’s life. He had started working at Dowling in 1998 after a warehouse job dried up. He never planned to be a janitor but said it had been the steadiest job he’d ever had. His pride, however, was in the kids he had helped over the years.
“Why still work at 70?” Caitlin asked, concerned.
“Retirement’s for people with savings,” he replied with a shrug. “I’m just getting by.”
Caitlin’s heart broke for him, but she wasn’t going to let him continue to struggle. The next day, Caitlin began formulating a plan. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she couldn’t sit by and let Mr. Thompson, who had done so much for her and countless others, continue working well into his 70s.
By the end of the week, Caitlin had rallied her friends, family, and sponsors to help. She had arranged for a complete overhaul of Mr. Thompson’s home, making it more accessible for his wife, Ellen, who had struggled with mobility after a fall. Caitlin also secured funds to cover their medical expenses and ensure that Mr. Thompson could retire comfortably.
The community, which had always been there for Caitlin, rallied around her again, donating time, resources, and money. In a few short weeks, the Thompson family’s home was transformed, with ramps, accessible bathrooms, and a new roof. The community also set up a trust to cover their future needs.
When Mr. Thompson and his wife saw the transformation, they were speechless. Caitlin had given them the life they deserved—a chance to rest after decades of hard work. It wasn’t just a house; it was a symbol of how far kindness could go.
At the unveiling of the new home, Caitlin stood beside Mr. Thompson, watching as he walked through the house, tears in his eyes. “I never imagined something like this,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.
Caitlin smiled. “You didn’t need to imagine it. You just had to believe in me.”
As the crowd gathered around, Caitlin reflected on the journey that had brought her here. It wasn’t the championships or the records that mattered the most. It was moments like these—the ones where she could give back to those who had helped her when no one else would. And for Caitlin Clark, this was the true victory.
