A Giant Among Boilermakers: Zach Edey’s Towering Legacy at Purdue

GLENDALE, Arizona — Will Berg was quite homesick and missed his father, Martin, when he came in West Lafayette, Indiana, from Sweden last year. After Berg’s mother lost her life to drinking, the two became extremely close. In an effort to blend in with his new team, Berg did not discuss it much with anyone, but as the months went by, the knot in his gut got bigger. Zach Edey encouraged Berg to persevere during a practice session one afternoon, around one month into the season. He acknowledged that Canada was not as far away as Sweden, but he knew what it was like to relocate oneself completely on one’s own.

When Berg returned to his apartment later that night, he discovered a little care box with of candies and a handwritten letter instructing him to text or phone if he needed anything. The package had come from Edey. “It was such a simple act of kindness,” Berg said, earlier this month, just after recording a thank-you video for the Purdue basketball seniors. “I was blown away.”

For the past two years, Edey has completely outperformed the opposition, winning every award possible—aside from the one he most desired—and becoming the only player to win National Player of the Year twice in a row since Ralph Sampson.

“Z-bo, keep going,” Matt Painter yelled in the final 90 seconds of Monday’s national championship game against UConn. With the exception of the Boilers behind by 13, Painter gave up a minute later. Edey left college basketball and State Farm Stadium. In 39 minutes, he had blocked two shots, pulled down ten rebounds, and scored 37 points. Even still, Edey’s encounter with a UConn squad that is as unique as he is was not sufficient. Edey chewed his lower lip hard as he made his way to the bench, hugging players and coaches one by one before turning around and pulling his jersey over his eyes.

For the last time #MarchMadness pic.twitter.com/DGb0ITXRin

— NCAA March Madness (@MarchMadnessMBB) April 9, 2024

Understandably, he found it difficult to articulate the significance of it all and said it would be better if Purdue students defined his legacy rather than him. It is not all that difficult. Edey joined a squad that had not experienced a Final Four in over forty years as the 436th-ranked player in his class. He departs with his jersey suspended from the rafters of Mackey Arena and another banner—the one that will soon be ordered—designating the Boilermakers’ spot in the national championship game.

“We won our league back-to-back years by multiple games. First time that’s happened in the Big Ten since I was in kindergarten,’’ Painter said. “We got to the championship game after having a disappointing loss. He got to the Sweet 16. He went to four tournaments. Everybody wants to have the argument about the GOAT, the greatest, but to me, that’s the ultimate separator.”

Maybe the true meaning of Edey will become apparent later, when his followers attempt to cross a threshold that he has raised. Prior to his arrival, Purdue had a very good team; after him, it is a fantastic team with a program that is recognizable by its culture, style, and goals. These Boilers represent Painter’s vision for his entire coaching philosophy, which he completely rebuilt ten years ago.

Following consecutive losing seasons, Painter set out to establish Purdue as a household name, but not in the traditional marketing sense. Rather, he wanted to establish a brand that was synonymous with the team’s identity, values, and style of play. Even if they were not total nerds, he still sought players he could talk to.

“Honestly, I catch maybe 10 percent of what he says. The rest is like this,’’ said Braden Smith, who proceeded to point to his right ear and then away from the left. “But I love talking to him about basketball.’’ He was looking for rivals, someone who could distinguish between just accomplishing and truly winning. However, he also desired those who comprehended the idea of the greater good.

Earlier this month, while prepping those senior videos, the team’s social media team recorded Ethan Morton reading a book for kids, “Pig the Winner.”

Pig was a pug
And I’m sorry to say
He was greedy and selfish in most every way.

The hateful dog just thought about himself and prized victory over his friends. Purdue does not have any Pigs. Morton started 29 of the 35 games the Boilers played in the previous season, averaging 25 minutes per game. He is playing 10 minutes a game on average this season and has only played six minutes total during the Boilers’ run through the NCAA Tournament; he did not show up for the Sweet 16, Elite 8, or Final Four games. One-time Indiana Mr. Basketball winner Caleb Furst started 21 games the previous season; he only played 27 seconds versus UConn to give Edey a break. Mason Gillis started 23 games as a freshman; he has not started any this year. “People in this situation, if they shy away from it, say it’s easy or whatever, it’s just not,” Morton says. “It’s hard. It’s really hard, and as a competitor, you don’t like it. You shouldn’t, right? But if we cut the nets down at the end, it would be worth it. That’s it.”

Even though Edey has not given up minutes, he still embodies the same humility. He is a remarkable human being with exceptional basketball skills, but aside from that, he is just a typical 21-year-old college student. He is an incredibly disorganized roommate who never does his laundry and scatters his footwear around. His buddies call him a bad poker player, despite his claims to the contrary. He is excellent at napping and DoorDashes sushi; in fact, he is so proficient at catching Zs that he has made it into a superstition. On game days when he travels, Edey closes his eyes and sets his alarm for ten minutes before the bus is supposed to depart.

He is consistently on time, meaning that he is rarely late but rather almost always on time. Before Edey boarded, the whole traveling party—players, coaches, staff, family, and administrators—had already boarded the Allegiant charter flight from West Lafayette to Phoenix. Additionally, Edey arrived two minutes late for the Boilers’ final season-ending film session, the last of his career, and insisted that he had to wait four minutes for the elevators. “Then it stopped on every floor,” he said. Painter just laughed. “Right, because no one else took the elevators.”

“He could be an entitled douchebag,” Berg said. “But he’s not. He’s just one of us.”

aside from the portion in which he isn’t. He played in plus 38 minutes in every game since the Sweet 16 and averaged 29.5 points and 14.5 rebounds per game during this NCAA Tournament. Even though he lost, he could have easily won the Final Four MOP (Hakeem Olajuwon of Houston last did it in 1983).

“What he’s done, I’m not sure anyone appreciates the burden he carried for us,” Carson Barrett said. “He knew he had to give us 30 and 20 every night, and he did. I don’t know if anyone else on this team, I don’t know if anyone else in the country, could do it.”

Despite all of that, he is strangely demonized and deservedly beloved. Over the course of this three-week tournament, the numbers of Boiler fans grew from a few guys with a boom box in Indianapolis to so many that hotel staff in Detroit had to use a single metal barrier to keep everyone in check. In Phoenix, the crowds reached such a size that a roped-off gauntlet stretched from the Hyatt Regency elevators, across the lobby, out the side door, and onto the bus. A few even went so far as to use the second story of the parking garage across the street in order to obtain a better viewpoint.

They cheered every player with gusto, but none more than Edey, the crowd often dissipating once the Big Maple got on the bus.

However, Edey appeared to others who did not wear the black and gold as some kind of ogre determined to obliterate basketball’s allure. Edey became something of a lightning rod due to his size and dominance. His every paint touch was criticized by the opposition, with some demanding three seconds even though size 21s were not in contact with the paint and the majority yelling that he fouled on every play. After his backup big man, Samson Johnson, picked up his second foul in the first half, UConn coach Dan Hurley almost lost his mind. This is a frequent reaction among coaches.

Edey had long since learned not to respond, understanding that his sheer stature would make any additional movement appear excessively strong. It does not imply that he was not affected. He discussed the awful things people had said to him on social media in a casual manner. “You name it. Asian slurs, all of it,’’ he said one day during the Midwest Regional in Detroit — insisting that it taught him to appreciate the people who mattered even more. He doubled down on family, on friends, intent on concentrating on the good, not the bad. But you also get the sense that he kept a sort of internal score.

Mason Gillis has a tattoo that follows the scar line of his surgically repaired knee: “FEWDM,” which stands for F— Everyone Who Doubted Me. Edey quite well could have borrowed it. “He gets more hate for no reason,’’ Smith said. “For what? Because he’s out there dominating everybody. Given all the crap he’s taken, it’s just made me admire him more.”

It remains to be seen how, in the larger scheme of things, it will all be remembered. In sports, the victors and runners-up usually come out on top. But there was no hesitation in the Purdue locker room. Redshirt freshman Cam Heide paused as he was leaving the court to pick up some of the blue and red confetti that had dropped to the ground following UConn’s victory.

“I’ll probably sleep with it under my pillow,” Heide said. “It’s motivation. What these guys, these seniors, Zach have done, that’s raised the bar for all of us. Now it’s up to us to keep it going, to take the next step and win the national championship.”

As Heide talked about the future, Edey sat at a chair surrounded by reporters, his last formal act as a Boiler.

“We all,’’ Berg said, “just need to say thank you.”

(Top photo: Christian Petersen / Getty Images)