We Already Got It Right

For most college basketball players, leaving the gym means leaving the coach behind.

Jordan Brown isn’t most college basketball players.

His coach is also his dad.

Which means even when Jordan leaves the University of Saint Mary (Kan.) gym and heads back to campus, basketball has a funny way of staying in the family conversation.

“He definitely has a harder time leaving things at the gym,” Jordan says of USM’s head men’s basketball coach Troy Brown.

Troy doesn’t exactly dispute the scouting report.

“I definitely have a harder time leaving things at the gym!”

Such is life when your head coach is also your dad.

But the Brown family’s story at Saint Mary started long before Jordan ever put on a Spires jersey.

Troy was once the one wearing it. He played basketball at USM. He won a championship there in 2001. He met his wife there. Eventually, he returned as head coach and put down roots in the community where his family would grow.

“USM, this community is where we placed our roots,” Troy says. “It helped shape who we are today as a family. A basketball family.”

And basketball, Jordan says, wasn’t simply part of life in the Brown household.

“It was our everyday life.”

Still, when it came time for Jordan to choose his own college path, Troy did something important: He let him.

No pressure. No predetermined family ending. Jordan chose Emporia State University and redshirted his freshman year. When it became clear he would transfer, home suddenly looked a little different. The gym Jordan had practically grown up in wasn’t just Dad’s gym anymore. It was an opportunity to help build something together. After a little encouragement from one of Troy’s former players, Jordan called his dad.

“Let’s do it,” he said. “Let’s start winning again.”

Since then, the Browns have learned there is an art to being father and son while also being coach and player. There are disagreements. There are “interesting conversations” after practice. There are, according to Jordan, a few “itty bitty perks,” such as occasionally knowing the practice plan ahead of time.

And there is apparently some disagreement over who owns the family title for Most Competitive.

Jordan votes Troy.

Troy votes Jordan.

Troy also adds an unexpected third candidate: Jordan’s mom.

“But in all fairness,” he says, “his mother is more competitive than any of us.”

Case closed.

Underneath the family banter, though, something bigger has been happening. Jordan has gotten a front-row seat to the work his dad has poured into Saint Mary, the late nights, the early mornings and the years spent building a program. And Troy has gotten something even rarer: a front-row seat to his son’s growth. Not simply as a basketball player, but as a man.

Then came 2025. Saint Mary won the conference tournament championship in a packed gym, surrounded by family and friends. When asked separately which moment from their years together they will always remember, father and son gave the same answer.

That championship.

For Jordan, it was the hug he shared with his dad after the game.

“I think the hug that he and I shared after the game is something that I will cherish for the rest of my life.”

For Troy, it was watching the reason Jordan came home become reality.

“To win.”

But somewhere along the way, Troy realized something. He had spent so much time wanting the perfect ending for Jordan, the wins, the championship, the unforgettable senior season, that he sometimes forgot to enjoy the ordinary moments happening right in front of him. So this year, he’s approaching it differently.

“Let’s go have fun, put our best foot forward, and just realize we already got it right.”

Because someday, the final buzzer will sound. Jordan won’t be one of Troy’s players anymore. But he’ll still be his son. And years from now, the Browns probably won’t remember every score, every practice or every disagreement that followed them home.

They’ll remember a packed gym. A championship. A hug between a player and his coach. A son and his dad. And a family that discovered sometimes winning isn’t the thing that makes a season successful.

Sometimes, you look beside you and realize you have already won.

Family. Legacy. Gratitude. And getting the chance to play the game you love, together.

That’s The Right Way To Play®.