King's Court: It's bigger than basketball
A year ago around this time, I had the worst car trouble of my life. I noticed a little bit of a rumble from my vehicle every time I stepped on the accelerator. I didn’t think too much of it at the time because the car was still running fine but went ahead and took it to an auto repair shop. And then another one. And then another one.
Nobody could seem to figure out exactly what was wrong with my car. Half the places told me one of the car’s two catalytic converters was causing the engine shudder and needed to be replaced. The other half told me there was something wrong with the vehicle’s torque clutch converter, which meant the transmission needed to be replaced.
After weeks of taking the car to several shops and spending hundreds of dollars getting it evaluated, I finally got to the bottom of the issue: both sides were right. I needed a new catalytic converter AND a new transmission. The car was kaput.
It was pretty devastating to realize. My last job didn’t pay well, so it took me a few years to save up for that car. I only had a couple of months’ worth of payments remaining on it. The repairs alone were going to cost more than half of what I bought the car for. I couldn’t afford them. My only option was to sell at a big loss. I had to hitch rides from Gabe and Jarod and former Columbia Daily Tribune reporter Matt Stahl to get around town while I searched for my next vehicle.
I bought a new-to-me car from my uncle, who runs a dealership in my hometown of Tyler, Texas. When Missouri played at Mississippi State on Feb. 4, 2022, I took a rental car to drive down to Starkville to cover the game on Saturday. My dad met me there to pick me up and we rode to Tyler on Sunday. And then I drove the new car all the way back to Columbia on Monday so that I could cover Mizzou’s home game against South Carolina on Tuesday. By the time I got back into town, I’d made a lap around the entirety of Arkansas without ever crossing over into the Natural State.
And so, I thought I was finally past all of it. The new car ran smooth and got me where I needed to go. I started feeling more at ease being back in possession of reliable transportation. Then the calendar flipped to March and it was time to go to the NCAA tournament. Gabe was having some car issues of his own at that point, so the plan was for me to pick him up and drive us to the Kansas City airport for our flight to Sacramento, Calif. I packed my bags, loaded them in the trunk and texted Gabe to let him know I was about to head his way.
I turn the key and … the car doesn’t start. I try again. No dice. I keep trying but the engine refuses to turn over. I eventually had to tell Gabe I wouldn’t be able to pick him up. I was embarrassed and angry and distressed and, most of all, worried we wouldn’t make the trip. Thankfully, Gabe’s a quick thinker and stole his son’s car to get us to the airport on time to make our flight.
I found out when we got back that my car just needed a new battery (and the word “just” is doing a lot of heavy lifting there). And — knock on wood — the car’s only needed minimal maintenance since then.
You try not to let your personal life affect your professional life. I wrote some of the best stories of my career during that time. But there were also nights that I was exasperated from trying to resolve my car situation and probably didn’t give my best effort. The trip to Sacramento was an amazing experience I’ll never forget, but I spent a good chunk of it worrying in the back of my mind about what might be wrong with my car and how much more it was going to cost me.
And that’s over something as trivial as cars and money. I know people who’ve had it a lot worse than me recently.
I’ve thought a lot about Anthony Robinson II. He just turned 19 years old last month. He’s living away from home for the first time. He’s navigating his first year of college classes. He’s trying to adapt to high-major basketball. He was beginning to hit a stride, played a season-high 26 minutes against Central Arkansas, then had to leave to visit his grandmother, whose health was declining. He returned the day of Missouri’s conference opener against Georgia on Jan. 6 and played just three minutes. He averaged 12.5 minutes per game over the next three weeks, then had to leave again for his grandmother’s funeral.
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