Barnett recalls impact the 1972 Mr. Basketball had on his life
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The Phil Cox Basketball Tournament, now held annually at Memorial Gym in downtown Kokomo, is an incredible honor and tribute to my friend and mentor, Phil Cox. Few people can talk about the personal, intimate moments they shared with Phil. I’m one of them, and I don’t take that lightly.
As the 1972 Mr. Basketball out of Connersville High School, Phil’s credentials on the court placed him in a realm of Indiana hoopers that many of us—myself included—could only dream of reaching. At this stage of life, I find myself not just admiring his accomplishments, but imagining what that moment must have felt like, standing on top of the basketball world as a young man in this state.
As far back as I can remember, Phil’s voice always preceded his presence. Jokingly, that could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on the situation. If he was in a playful mood, that smile, that laugh, and that intentional over-the-top energy he carried were nothing short of magical. You knew how special he was, especially if you knew his story and his history. And if Phil was giving you his undivided attention, you knew that mattered.
Now, for those of us who have been on the receiving end of one of Phil’s chewings on the basketball court, well, that was quite an experience, too: intense, honest, and unforgettable. I’ll never forget one moment on an AAU basketball road trip when Phil was talking to my parents and told them he felt like I could play college basketball at some level. I don’t know if it was an in-the-moment comment or a truly genuine evaluation of my ability, but I do know how it made me feel. If you could’ve felt what I felt in that moment, you’d understand the power of his words.
Basketball was always more than a game to Phil. It was a vehicle; a means to grow, a means to go places, and a means to build special relationships. Other things to mention that were special about Phil on those AAU trips were the many morning Bible study lessons, prayers, and songs that were sung in our hotel rooms. His example of a relationship with Jesus is one I still cling to today.
And that voice I mentioned earlier? He could really sing. When I was a kid, Phil would be singing at the top of his lungs in a Sunday school classroom at Mt. Pisgah Church. There were many occasions where he sang the national anthem at football and basketball games, leaving people in amazement at that gift as well.
I remember seeing him in the halls of IU Kokomo one time when he stopped me and asked me to pray for him. I remember thinking, who am I to pray for you? But he started the conversation by saying, “JC, you’re a prayer warrior. Pray for me about this.” That was Phil. He spoke into people. He saw something in them. He genuinely cared.
When Phil passed in 2018, Danny Carrico and I felt compelled to honor him by naming the first of four basketball leagues after him. Phil played such a major role in our development as basketball players and young gentlemen that it only felt right. In a year and a half, we completed all four leagues and served more than 1,000 kids with free, competitive basketball in the Kokomo area. His spirit was with us.
As an artist, I also took the opportunity to pay tribute to Phil by painting a picture of him during a time in his life when he was on top of the world as a young high school basketball player.
I was with Phil in some of his final moments on this earth. It was a hard moment, seeing a larger-than-life man make his transition, but it was also a privilege. I believe I was supposed to be there. I once wrote a blog titled “Giant Man, Giant Voice,” and I don’t think anyone whose life was impacted by Phil Cox will ever forget the giant man or soon forget the giant voice that spoke life into so many of us.