In the corner of Iowa’s temporary locker room at the Toyota Center in Houston, Texas, there is a black trash can. There’s nothing spectacular about it. At least not from the outside. But buried under mounds of black electrical tape used to stick Hawkeye logos to the wall, weighed down by Dasani water bottles and banana peels, there’s a bracket. It’s a styrofoam bracket, one side gray and the other blue. This entire week, Velcro strips held the bracket snug against the eggshell-colored cement wall above the wooden lockers. Now, after a 71-59 loss to Illinois in the men’s Elite Eight game on March 28, it lay destroyed, snapped in half from frustration. It is hidden from the world.
On one hand, it’s a symbol of what could have been. A trip to the Final Four cut just short for head coach Ben McCollum and his unlikely team. On the other, it’s a reminder of how many people they’ve proven wrong. How many brackets they’ve broken. And how, after a year of uncertainty, a team of dreamers dragged Iowa basketball back into belief.
The Run of a Lifetime
After losing five of their final seven games before the NCAA tournament, Iowa wasn’t exactly on a roll. But considering they hadn’t made it to the big dance since 2022-23, it still seemed like fans were content with the season and excitement McCollum had brought back to Iowa City.
The team, however, was anything but satisfied.
The #9 Iowa Hawkeyes won a toss-up game with #8 Clemson behind a free-throw frenzy where Iowa made 24 of their 31 attempts at the line. One down. And with it, something started.
Just 48 hours after the win, they shocked the basketball world by beating Florida, the reigning champions, in the final seconds. Down by two points, Iowa senior Bennett Stirtz took the inbound and dribbled it past half court. Finding himself caught between two Gators trying to foul him, Stirtz dished it off to Alvaro Folgueiras, who hit the game-winning shot with 4.5 seconds left to play. The final buzzer sounded, cementing a storybook score on the jumbotron: 73-72, Iowa. From there, a Midwest motto was born.
“March is for the dreamers,” Folgueiras said after the game. “And there’s no better dreamer than us.”
Four days later, the dreamers took on Nebraska in their first Sweet Sixteen appearance since 1999. Both squads shot the lights out, but incredible performances from Iowa role players Tate Sage (19 points) and Folgueiras (16 points), along with Stirtz’s 20 points, lifted Iowa up and over the Cornhuskers. 77-71. Another win, another chapter closed.
Last night, their story came to an end against Illinois in the Elite Eight. The dream was over. And while for a split second it felt like the world was ending, it didn’t take long for fans and school alumni to express endless support for a team that will never be forgotten. Tweets and posts flooded social media, with praises and pictures of how much hope this team gave them. From half-empty arenas last season to jam-packed student sections and a historic tournament run this year, the energy was back for this program.
This team was special for a multitude of reasons. The lowest Big Ten seed to ever reach an Elite Eight. A roster built from places far outside the spotlight. A group that believed, with almost delusional conviction, that they could just keep winning. That they could restore hope to a dwindling fanbase.
And for nine days in March, they did just that. They made everyone believe.
Smile Because it Happened
There is something very uncomfortable about watching grown men cry. Especially when you’re in a room surrounded by them.
It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen it once or you’re a seasoned veteran, numb to the emotions that follow such a gut-wrenching tournament’s end. It’s weird. It’s hard. As close to twenty media members stuck microphones and camera lights in the faces of young athletes, illuminating dried tears and crusty lips, it felt necessary to seek out a smile.
The question: what would your 10-year-old self think about this journey?
Bennett Stirtz: “I always wanted to play college ball, but he wouldn’t believe this. It’s been pretty cool.”
Tate Sage: “He’d be pretty happy. Especially being able to stay up past my bedtime and watch myself on the TV.”
Kael Combs: “I wouldn’t believe it. I’ve worked so hard to get here. I’d tell him not to change a thing. “
Brendan Hausen: “Believe you can. Dream on. There will be lots of highs and lows, but just believe.”
Cooper Koch: “It’s fun. Enjoy practicing with these guys every day and lifting during the season. Trust the process and take it all in. You only get four years of it.”
One by one, reporters started to fade away as they got the answers they needed. When the players were done, they removed their sweat-soaked black and gold jerseys and tossed them into a tattered black Nike suitcase in the middle of the floor. Some laughed, shooting it like a basketball as they hugged their teammates. Others solemnly dropped their tank top time capsule of memories into the bag.
Just a Dream
After the locker rooms cleared completely, Ben McCollum emerged from the hallway to stand in front of a black and blue foldable March Madness backdrop. His usual white dress shirt and gold tie were nowhere to be seen, likely creased and damp, bearing the marks from a game he’ll think about for days.
His voice was steady, but his eyes told a different story. The kind that comes from knowing how close you were. The kind that doesn’t fully settle in until much later.
He talked about Bennett Stirtz, and how the journey they’ve taken together is “a little ridiculous.” How he followed him from school to school. How the University of Iowa feels like home.
For a moment, he paused, reflecting on just how far they’d come.
“We were just in Maryville, Missouri,” he said. “And now we’re playing in the Elite Eight.”
He laughed.
“Man, I almost said Final Four.”
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