Even an Exhibition – Illinois vs. UIC – Reminds What Makes College Basketball Special

A short-handed Illinois basketball team will face UIC for its third and final exhibition game of the season on Wednesday (7 p.m. CT, B1G+) at the State Farm Center in Champaign. The superpower of this Illini team may be its depth, but if coach Brad Underwood and Co. need an extra body, I know a guy. Let me introduce you:

Why a late-October Illinois basketball exhibition is so meaningful to me

Back in elementary school in Aurora, Illinois, recess meant one thing: soccer. It was always a chaotic, far-too-crowded battle – probably something like 20-on-20 – and one I was rarely involved in. That’s because I was doing my thing on the blacktop, getting up shots on a rusted-out, (probably) tetanus-ridden rim.

It was usually just me. But by the second grade, someone else showed up on the court – a kid who was stronger, lengthier and more athletic than I. And then there were two. Our solo hoop sessions gradually morphed into one-on-one showdowns, the result of which dictated my mood for the day – and often the week.

Then our games migrated to the local YMCA. The intersection of Keating Drive and Normantown Road was the staging ground for my childhood. Seven days a week, all day (on the weekends, anyway) and all night.

It was there that Kenny Battle showed up on a random weeknight with his son. My dad introduced us and asked if my brother and I could each ask a question. The former Illini great spoke to us for half an hour – though here is all I remember from the exchange: Kenny told me about the Illini award that bears his name – the Kenny Battle Inspirational Award – and I told him to look me up in 10 years after I win it. (Spoiler alert: I have not won it.) But the encounter planted a seed. We arrived home well past bedtime, and someone waiting at the door wasn’t happy. (Sorry, mother!)

At 8 years old, my life was mapping itself out for me. My dad had grown up in Urbana. Both of my parents attended U of I. My grandma, too. We frequently visited family and friends in Champaign-Urbana, and I was already a die-hard fan of all things Illini. It was settled: I would attend the University of Illinois and don the program's orange-and-blue uniform while following in the footsteps of guys like Kenny Battle toward stardom.

Fast-forward a few years later. Remember my second-grade one-on-one rival? He had moved to another school, but not before we became best friends. And now he was returning, reuniting with me as a classmate again and joining me on our middle school hoops team.

Led by him and I (OK, mostly him), we barnstormed to back-to-back district title games – although we were blasted in the championship game both years. The latter defeat was thanks almost entirely to my former AAU teammate with the Aurora Illini (guess who named the team?), a player whom current Illini fans just might recognize: TJ McMillen, an offensive lineman on Illinois' football team.

Then came high school, when our dynamic duo was split. While I crossed the street, to Waubonsie Valley, my buddy moved down the road to Oswego East. There, we grew our games as freshmen and sophomores, then spearheaded our varsity clubs to separate but roughly equal success.

As a junior, my friend led his school to a 33-2 season. They beat us by 16. Senior year: more of the same. The Warriors were smoked again – that score won’t be reported – and the Wolves waltzed to a super sectional appearance before falling by four points to the eventual state champs: Moline (who starred the former Iowa tandem of Brock Harding and Owen Freeman).

Then my friend and I saw our paths truly diverge. One of us – you could maybe guess who – went on to play Division I basketball, at Towson. The other, split between D-III offers and attending his dream school, wound up in Champaign. It was a choice. But while one was balling out in Maryland, the other was missing out.

Freshman-year runs at CRCE reignited a love for the game I thought had slowly burned to the wick over the final years of my high school career. So I dove back in. I reached out to D-III coaches, tried to find the right fit. It brought me to a workout at UIC in the summer of 2024.

Interested in walking on, I played in an open run with the Flames – and I survived (although hardly thrived). It didn’t work out. A few months later, my guy Mr. Towson hit the portal and wound up ... where? UIC.

Mekhi Lowery takes it to the basket with authority!#ChicagosCollegeTeam pic.twitter.com/LEbew3i3Y0
— UIC Men's Basketball 🔥🏀 (@UIC_MBB) March 7, 2026

Today, on Oct. 28, 2026, our paths reconnect. Mekhi Lowery, perhaps the best defender in the Missouri Valley Conference and one of the most versatile offensive players in that league, will hit the State Farm Center floor. I'll likely be sitting just a few feet away on the sideline, not as a benchwarmer – a role I would have happily accepted, by the way – but on press row.

So did everyone win in the end? Mekhi is still doing the thing he loves, living out his dreams. I’ve found a new way to stay connected to the game (and, as an 8-year-old me would surely appreciate, found a way onto the State Farm Center floor).

But no, not exactly. Because every time I’m dropping 30 – only a slight exaggeration – in an intramural game, all I can think is … what if? (And that I’d still give Mekhi a few buckets.)

If anyone asks, I tell them I have no regrets. And it feels like the truth, for the most part. Everything happens for a reason, right? That’s a philosophy I’ve always embraced. But if I’m honest with myself, that’s a cop-out.

I do regret not going for it – at least to an extent. But the past is written. And dwelling on it just takes attention away from this: I get to reunite (again!) and cover my lifelong friend and dream school that I currently attend – which is coming off a Final Four run and is currently ranked No. 3 in the country – on a random Wednesday night in October.

Moments like these are a reminder: This is more than just a game. Basketball, among other sports, can bring people together and create opportunities and unforgettable memories. So what if it's a cliche? Doesn't mean it isn't true.

And I'm not alone. There is a legion of college hoops fans, all with their own ties to their schools and the game, spread out across the country. The best part: We’re just buckling up. The ride hasn’t even begun.

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