Beyond the occasional fist pump or sly grin, Ja’Kobi Gillespie rarely expresses emotion on the basketball court. Maryland’s point guard admitted he sometimes catches himself playing too relaxed.
But make no mistake, Gillespie has an unwavering drive — perhaps even a “killer instinct,” as director of player personnel Ricky Harris put it — beneath the surface.
It’s why Gillespie woke his mom up at 5 a.m. every morning in sixth grade so she could drive him to the nearby YMCA in Greeneville, Tennessee. And it’s why his dad calls him “different.”
He’s developed the type of insatiable work ethic that helps players who have been doubted reach their goals, which he’s repeatedly done throughout his basketball career.
He’ll get a chance to achieve one of his biggest goals when the No. 4 seed Terps play No. 13 Grand Canyon on Friday in the first round of the NCAA tournament. It’s the Belmont transfer’s first opportunity to achieve a lifelong dream.
“Every kid that plays basketball wants to play in that tournament,” Gillespie said. “It’s definitely exciting just to finally be able to do it.”
Leaving Nashville for College Park wasn’t an easy decision, but the former Bruin is thriving in his first season with the Terps. He averaged a team-leading 16.2 points and 4.8 assists in conference play and was named to the All-Big Ten third team.
Gillespie’s transfer decision was two-fold, according to his dad, Byron Gillespie. The first was to increase his potential offerings on the NIL market. The second was to help lead a team to the tournament.
“I remember him saying … ‘Dad, wouldn’t it be something [if] we go there and get them back into the tournament?’” Byron Gillespie said. “He wanted to be part of putting them back in it.”
Gillespie welcomes the bigger stage. His mom, Heather Johnson, said he “would have probably” gone to his home state’s Tennessee Volunteers if point guard Zakai Zeigler weren’t there. But Gillespie quickly committed to Maryland after visiting, despite not knowing a single player on the team.
[Kevin Willard, Maryland men’s basketball working on new contract]
“Kobi visited here, and right away I knew that was going to be my guy,” coach Kevin Willard said. “There was no BS.”
If there’s one thing the Terps want more from Gillespie, it’s emotion. He said Willard has asked him to play with more of it, while Harris said it can sometimes get frustrating when the point guard doesn’t talk on the floor.
But Harris also knows you can’t change a person’s style, and that’s what Gillespie is — a quiet competitor.
“Coming up here, he saw that every single night was going to be a war,” Harris said. “I think he’s taken on the mindset of sink or swim — I’m either going to figure it out and survive, or I’m going to get drowned in this big-boy league. He’s a competitor and he didn’t want to drown.”
One of Gillespie’s tougher moments came after Maryland’s loss to Michigan State on Feb. 26. He clanked a 3-pointer off the rim with four seconds left, which allowed the Spartans’ Tre Holloman to drain a game-winning buzzer beater from beyond half court.
When Gillespie joined his family on the court after the game, he asked how to turn off his social media comments, Johnson recalled. She told him not to worry about them, but said she knows he “beats himself up pretty bad” after making costly mistakes.
Gillespie also talked to his dad after the game. He told him he regretted not driving to the rim with a chance to win the game at the buzzer.
“I don’t even wanna hear that shit,” Byron Gillespie responded. “If you hit that shot, we all rush the floor.”
Gillespie grew up playing basketball against his older brothers, Jaevon and Jordan, and often faced bigger competition playing for the B.Maze Elite program on the AAU circuit.
But that wasn’t the case in Greeneville, a rural town of about 15,000 in northeast Tennessee. He became the first player from the area to win Tennessee’s “Mr. Basketball,” earned two state tournament MVPs and averaged 27.3 points as a senior.
[Maryland men’s basketball earns No. 4 seed in NCAA tournament, tied for highest in decade]
The running joke in Greeneville was to “just give Kobi the ball and go,” Johnson said.
Still, college coaches didn’t take notice.
Gillespie only had seven mid-major offers and wasn’t rated in 247Sports or On3’s high school recruiting databases. People around Gillespie felt his lack of size, exposure and competition all played a role.
He overcame those obstacles and finally reached the big stage, but he didn’t leave his Tennessee roots behind.
At least a dozen people, including Gillespie’s parents, siblings, grandparents and hometown supporters routinely trekked to College Park this season, usually taking up a whole row at Xfinity Center.
Those same supporters traveled to watch Gillespie on the road, too. Even in a hostile Big Ten environment, the junior can look into the crowd and see familiar faces in a sea of opposing fans.
When the Terps traveled to the West Coast in early January, none of Gillespie’s family immediately made the trip. Johnson called his performance against Washington the worst since he was 8. He scored one point at the free-throw line and shot 0-for-6, fouling out in 18 minutes.
“It broke my heart. I never miss any of his games, ever, since he’s been little, and that just killed my soul.” Johnson said.
The next day, she booked a flight to watch the Terps’ next game in Eugene, Oregon.
“‘You’re coming all the way out here for one game?” Johnson recalled Gillespie asking.
“‘After last night? Yeah, I am, because that was awful,’” she responded.
Johnson didn’t miss many other games. A snowstorm hit College Park before Maryland hosted UCLA on Jan. 10, which canceled her flight. Even when situations like that arise, Gillespie’s friends and family back in Greeneville convene at his grandfather’s “man cave” to watch him play.
Harris, who’s spent the past three seasons on the Terps’ staff after playing at UMass and professionally overseas, said it’s not typical for players to have that much support, especially when they live six to seven hours away.
Gillespie doesn’t take it for granted.
“I feel like all of Greeneville is watching my games,” Gillespie said. “That really means a lot.”
