SOUTH BEND, Ind. — Niele Ivey looks back on those photos often — a younger version of herself, the newly crowned 2001 national champion, basking in confetti and the glow of a perfect moment.
She had helped orchestrate Notre Dame’s comeback in front of a sold-out Savvis Center, 10 minutes away from where she first fell in love with a game. On a twisted ankle, no less. And when Purdue’s last-second shot rimmed out, she sprinted over halfcourt and leapt into the arms of assistant coach Kevin McGuff. He was the first person she saw then.
She looks back at the photos and sees the joy radiating from her body. In her mind, there was no way to make it any better. It was one of the best moments of her life.
But not for any of the reasons she thought.
Now, in photos from that night, it’s Philippe she sees most clearly. It’s Philippe she sees first.
She can spot him immediately, there in the second row sporting an Irish shirt, his dreadlocks tucked into a crocheted tam he made himself, flanked by Ivey’s three other brothers and her parents.
Seven months after these photos were snapped, Niele and her mom, Theresa, would arrive at Barnes Hospital in St. Louis and be led down a series of hallways by a hospital escort and police officer. A doctor would take them into a cold room,…
