Men's Basketball | 2/17/2026 10:38:00 AM
CROOKSTON, Minn. - The drive north on I-29 is long, flat, and quiet — the kind of road that gives you time to think.
Six hours from Omaha, Neb., to Crookston, Minn., past open fields and calm skies, Chandler Meeks had plenty of time to ask himself what he wanted. For some athletes, the decision to leave home is about exposure or statistics. For Meeks, it was simpler. "Relationships with the coaches. Much respect for those two (Bryan Beamish and Tim Lubke). That's what made me drive six hours up I-29," he said.
That road led him to the University of Minnesota Crookston — and eventually, to a part of himself he hadn't yet met.
Basketball was never a question growing up in Omaha. It was part of the routine of his family. With a brother and sister who both played, the game found him early and stayed. "Basketball has always been a sport in my family… I started when I was very young," Meeks stated. For many years, his identity on the court was simple: athletic, natural, competitive. Then the game forced him to slow down.
Sophomore year at Minnesota Crookston, he tore his right ACL. Junior year, he tore his left. Two seasons interrupted. Two long stretches of watching instead of playing. For some athletes, that kind of repetition plants doubt and fear. For Meeks, it didn't. "Never a thought of giving up in my mind," he said. The first injury built resilience. The second hit deeper.
"The first one built resiliency to adversity. The second one was more of a 'goodness gracious'… like a minor setback for a major comeback type of deal. The second one was more hard-hitting."
What could have been separation turned into learning a new view of the game. Sitting out forced him to see the game differently. Instead of relying on athleticism, he began studying spacing, timing, reads — the mental layers that don't show up in box scores. "Seeing the game from a different view — IQ over athleticism. Best of both worlds when I come back."
He also found his voice. Coaches reminded him leadership isn't limited to minutes played. From the sideline and in the locker room, his consistency mattered. As a captain off the court, he learned how to lead without scoring — how to steady a team with words.
When he finally returned last season against Oklahoma Baptist, it wasn't just another opener. It was acceptance. "Last year our first game against Oklahoma Baptist, it was my first game returning. I had a very good first game, and it was more memorable… it seemed like I still got a moment." The moment wasn't about stat lines. It was about proof the work in empty gyms and rehab rooms had meaning. Meeks knew his worth and always held a confident mindset. "I put a lot of work in, so why not show it? Confidence comes from the work I put in. Nothing's stopping me but myself."
He believes discipline lives in the details, and when asked for words of advice to upcoming or current athletes, he stated, "Nothing's easy. Nothing is given to you in life. Work hard, and you'll see where it takes you."
Off the court, he carries the same mindset, and it shows up in quieter ways. He's a marketing major with a minor in accounting, balancing creativity with structure. He spends time fishing. He listens to indie and pop before games — not the typical hype playlist. His ritual before games is plain and simple: keep the mind calm. "I've been playing basketball for so long, I know what I'm doing at the end of the day. Whatever keeps my mind at a stable place."
He's into digital interior design, drawn to creativity in all forms. He studies uniforms — especially combinations from the Oregon Ducks men's basketball — imagining how he would redesign them through his own perspective. Even his pregame fuel feels personal: Troli egg bites for a snack, pasta or Alfredo when it's time for a full meal.
That six-hour drive up I-29 once marked the start of a new chapter. Now, every possession feels like a continuation — not just of a basketball career, but of a mindset shaped by setbacks.
Two ACL tears could have rewritten his story. Instead, they refined it. In the quiet between Omaha and Crookston, somewhere along that stretch of highway, Chandler Meeks learned something lasting: the game can pause, but faith doesn't have to.
