Angels in the Midcourt

‘Angels in the Midcourt’: the former stars of the Baltimore Angels on underdogs, life after sports, and what it means to be a team

By Avery S. Pierce

June 27, 2024

I have never been on a louder set than the one I am on today.

I can hear them from down the hall as I approach the studio, and the laughter and chatter seem to be contagious. The camera crew and technicians are gathered in groups as they test the lighting and sound, each of them craning their necks every few moments as they attempt to catch a glimpse of one of the many legends around the corner. The energy is tangible and I have to force myself to keep my notebook in my bag as I enter the brightly lit space. I go unnoticed for a moment after I cross the threshold, which allows me to soak in the reality of the living, breathing versions of people I’ve only seen on posters or as tiny images on my television screen. 

Some of these former teammates and friends haven’t seen each other in years, and it’s clear by the volume in the room that they have some catching up to do. I immediately pick out three members of the 2013-2014 Baltimore Angels roster: Jac Stafford, shooting guard, Corey Clayton, center, and Santiago Allen, power forward. Jac’s daughter, who he had with wife and NuLife co-founder Julia Monroe four years ago, is hiding her face in his neck as the three men catch up. Santiago is hand in hand with husband Dillon Robinson and Corey almost spills his water several times while he gesticulates wildly in time with whatever story he’s telling. 

One of the people I don’t immediately find, however, is the person at the heart of this article, and the one that many of you will skim to find named amongst the text. When I finally do spot Oliver “Ollie-oop” Ford, he’s deep in conversation with Dominic Woods, small forward, and former head coach Dan Briggs, who retired from the team only last year. They’re laughing about something I can’t hear, and I’m struck by the ease with which the former teammates flow, moving in and out of each other’s orbits like a well-oiled machine. Or, perhaps, like a well-trained professional basketball team. 

I don’t get a chance to observe much more before Coach Briggs notices me in the doorway and the whirlwind introductions begin. I admit to being a bit starstruck, and Dominic brushes it off with a laugh. When everyone is finally seated and I ask how it feels to be back together again, I am met with a rowdy rush of responses, including a complaint from Coach Briggs about how loud the boys still are. When Corey speaks up, the atmosphere sobers a bit, each of the men nodding along: “I’ll be honest, it’s a bit overwhelming. We haven’t all played together since that game, but damn am I happy to be back. Wait, sorry- can I curse?”

“That game,” of course, is the fateful 2014 Finals game between the Baltimore Angels and the Seattle Lightning. More seasoned fans of the NBA remember the day with a grimace, a shake of the head, or a muttered “damn shame.” Newcomers to the sport know the story from what amounts to legend in the professional basketball world, but I am interested to hear more about the season leading up to the infamous game. When I tell them as much, Jac Stafford expresses the team’s initial reservations about Oliver, and Santiago and Jac nod their heads especially enthusiastically. 

“I was a cocky newbie point guard, of course you were worried.” This is the first time Oliver has spoken since the interview began, and it earns a round of laughter and knowing grins from his former teammates. 

Oliver Ford, fresh out of a fairly mediocre four seasons with the University of Santa Ana and yet to earn his nickname, was drafted 57th overall for the 2013-2014 season to the Baltimore Angels, and his reception was not entirely positive. He had a reputation in college for his inability to control the court as the team’s point guard, and it wasn’t winning him any favors with his new teammates or fans of the Angels. 

“The previous season was rough,” Dominic explains. “We weren’t cohesive enough, and half the players on the team were either recent trades or nearing the ends of their careers. We hadn’t had a solid win in who knows how long, and suddenly this fresh meat walks in off the street with a lot of confidence and only some of the skill to back it up.”

Their first few practices together were a disaster, Coach Briggs cuts in to tell me, and the other men are nodding their heads, jumping in one after the other to tell stories about near-fights, ball-hogging, and low morale. The fans could feel it too, as was apparent by the abysmal turnout during the first part of the 2013-2014 season. According to Coach Briggs and my own research, it was a period of one of the lowest-grossing ticket sales in the team’s recent history. 

“I didn’t score a single point in my first three games.” Oliver still winces when talking about it, and the men around him offer everything from sympathetic pats on the shoulder to understanding nods. 

Any self-respecting Angels fan could tell you what finally turned the tide, but I want to hear it in their own words. There’s a collective good-natured groan through the room when I ask, likely from answering this question too many times, but Oliver humors me. 

“It was our good luck charm.” He goes on to describe one of the many clips that I rewatched over and over before sitting for this interview- partially for research purposes, but also, I must admit, for my own enjoyment. “Santiago and Corey were running drills before the game, passing back and forth, and I was so in my head about something that I ran right between them.” The broadcast of Oliver getting laid out by a basketball to the side of the head was clipped and circulated around the internet for weeks after the fact, but it wasn’t only because of fans’ dark sense of humor. 

“That game was the best they had played the whole season,” Coach Briggs says proudly. “That basketball knocked some sense into everybody.” 

After a tense moment with the team doctor after the direct hit to the head, Oliver was cleared to play, and something happened between the teammates during the game. “It was an effective icebreaker.” Corey shrugs. 

“Laughing about how stupid Ollie looked really brought us all together.” That comment earns Jac a couple light punches in the shoulder, but nobody disagrees. 

Suddenly, instead of the cocky rooky interloper, Oliver Ford was a man humble enough to laugh off what must have been a humiliating moment for a player still finding his footing on a professional court. What really sealed the deal was his post-game interview, where he laughed right alongside the interviewers while watching a replay and cracked his well-known joke about the hit “knocking loose some talent.” 

While it was likely not all due to the near head injury, and the subsequent ritual of hitting Oliver in the head with a basketball before each game (lighter, of course), the meteoric rise of the Baltimore Angels after that game was something for fans to rally around, and shortly after, a well-coordinated pass and shot orchestrated by Oliver and Corey led to his new nickname: Ollie-oop. 

“It’s a bit on the nose, but people really latched on to the underdog story.” Santiago means both Oliver and the Angels, a team that no one had expected to find their way to the championships after such a rough start.

As the conversation nears the infamous NBA Finals against the Seattle Lightning, the former team becomes only slightly more subdued. Ten years have passed, and Oliver claims that it’s much easier to talk about now. “Right after it happened, I was so angry. I felt so betrayed; I didn’t understand how the rug could be pulled out from under me so quickly.”

Roughly 18,000 people were present for what Oliver says was the worst day of his life, and millions more were tuned in from their homes around the country. While going for what should have been a routine jump shot near the three-point line, a player on the Seattle Lightning ran up underneath Oliver, accidentally knocking him sideways. Fans watched as Oliver fell to the court, but it took a few moments to realize that he wasn’t moving to stand again. 

“It was my back.” Jac and Dominic each have a supportive hand on the back of Ollie’s wheelchair. “I didn’t even realize at first that I couldn’t feel my legs.” 

Through mutual agreement, the Angels and the Lightning initially delayed and then postponed the Finals game, a first-time occurence in NBA history for a single-player injury. Oliver’s teammates rushed to the hospital and spent hours waiting together for their friend to emerge from surgery. When the doctor delivered the news of Oliver’s paralysis, the team cried for their friend and his loss. 

What was it like from Oliver’s perspective? “It felt like my life was over,” he confesses. “I was finally in a place where my love for basketball and my ability on the court were coming together, and then it all ended.” He describes the outpouring of love and support that he received from friends, family, and fans in the aftermath, but it was only through intense therapy- both physical and mental- that he was finally able to gain some perspective. 

And his life was not over. Two years after the tragic accident that ended his career as a player, the Pittsburgh Phantoms reached out to offer Oliver a position as an assistant coach. He describes his initial confusion and hesitation to accept, worried about his inability to move on the court and interact with the players the way most coaches do. 

“They asked if my mind was sharp, and I said ‘I think so.’” Oliver laughs. “The next week I was on a flight to Pennsylvania.” Another three years after that initial job offer, Oliver took another assistant coach position- this time for the Baltimore Angels, where he’s been ever since. 

“I’m man enough to admit that I cried when I heard Ollie would be coming back to the team,” Coach Briggs says. Oliver grabs the older man’s shoulder affectionately, and the easy camaraderie between the two is easy to see. 

Where would Oliver be without that opportunity? “I don’t know,” he admits. “It was hard to go back out on that court without feeling it beneath my feet, but nothing has made me happier or prouder than getting to coach a new class of basketball players.” 

The rest of the Angels got back on the court the next week for the rescheduled Finals game and their win was in honor of their friend, who watched from a hospital bed. They brought the trophy to him, and the picture they took, all of them surrounding a smiling Oliver, is still proudly hung in the Angels’ head coaching office. 

“My professional basketball career may have been cut short,” Oliver says, “but I will never regret a moment that I spent learning to be a part of a team with the best men I’ve ever known.” 

After the interview portion is over, a shuttle takes us from the studio to the Angel’s stadium, a short twenty-minute ride away. Dominic pushes Oliver’s wheelchair, his other teammates taking turns sitting bridal-style in his lap until Corey suggests a scrimmage. They all readily agree, and I sit on the sidelines and watch Oliver roll his way down the court, ball securely in his lap, yelling that it isn’t traveling because he hasn’t taken more than two steps without dribbling. His former teammates- his friends- chase after him until they manage to wrestle it out of his strong grip. 

As much as this is a story about Oliver- about an underdog’s mete0oroic rise to fame through tragedy and subsequent struggle to find his place after professional sports- this is also a story about a team that came together in the face of said tragedy. About community and trust and belonging, as corny and overdone as that may sound in a sports article. 

When I ask Oliver what his favorite part of his professional basketball career is, he only deliberates for a moment. “Learning how to lean on people,” he says. “And gaining a family.” 

**I am not an NBA expert, so please forgive me for any major inaccuracies or incorrect terminology!