A

ll of a sudden, John Gillon faded in and out of consciousness. His right arm had been swelling over the past couple days and doubled its normal size as he sat in his sixth grade classroom.

Gillon couldn’t bend his right arm because a cyst formed between his elbow and shoulder. If anyone touched his arm, Gillon said it felt like he was being stabbed.

His mom, Phyllis Gillon, rushed him to the pediatrician and then to Texas Children’s Hospital in Houston. John was diagnosed with a staph infection, which developed into MRSA, and the cause was unknown. As the infection spread to his hip, he underwent emergency surgery and spent the next eight days with Phyllis in the hospital.

“John almost died,” Phyllis Gillon said.

“John shouldn’t be here.”

On one night, at least two patients on John’s floor died of MRSA. Fearing he’d suffer the same fate, John forced himself to stay awake.

“Knowing that you’re close to death makes you value life more,” John said. “It makes you have a certain appreciation for life and the opportunities that I have.”

Nine years later, the next opportunity for Gillon is his final season of eligibility at Syracuse. He transferred from Arkansas-Little Rock to Colorado State after his freshman year and from Colorado State to SU after three years, including a redshirt season. He’s finally entrenched in a nationally relevant program that he’s longed to be a part of.

Gillon’s developed a knack for bettering nearly every situation he’s been in. The 6-foot point guard has been shaped by the let downs he’s faced and still plays inspired by the ones who have counted him out. From surviving the MRSA scare to not making his junior varsity team as a freshman in high school to only receiving less than a handful of Division I offers, Gillon kept climbing.

Syracuse head coach Jim Boeheim compared him to former SU point guard Jonny Flynn, who was also 6 feet, physical, strong and able to get to the basket. But Gillon’s still aware of the naysayers: He’s still an unknown. He hasn’t proven himself against top competition. His size leaves him at an inherent disadvantage against bigger guards.

“All I’ll say is just, if you really think I’m too small, just come guard me,” Gillon said.

In high school, Gillon would wake up at 5:30 a.m. and put up hundreds of shots at a local gym before school started. Until that point, Gillon was just a spot shooter. He struggled dribbling and would get trapped in the corners of the court. He told his mom that he wanted to get better.

Gillon didn’t have a license so Phyllis would drive him. On the days he wouldn’t want to go, she’d tell him, “It’s gonna pay off one day.”

“If you’re not going to do it to the best of your abilities, don’t even waste my time,” Gillon’s AAU coach, Jawann McClellan, remembers Phyllis Gillon telling her son.

In eighth grade, Gillon didn’t start on his middle school team. In his freshman year at Strake Jesuit (Texas) College Preparatory, Gillon didn’t even make the junior varsity team and started at point guard on the freshman squad. Players filled spots ahead of him and Gillon needed the reps. Still, it irked the undersized guard.

During the summers after his sophomore and junior years, Gillon played AAU for Houston Hoops. But the team didn’t have a high-profile sponsor meaning he received significantly less exposure than other players.

Gillon was named first-team all-district his junior and senior year. The accolades didn’t matter, though. Recruiters looked at his size and dismissed him. Coaches gave him letters for Division II and Division III schools.

“I wouldn’t even open them,” Gillon said. “I would be like, ‘I’m not going to that. I’m going to Division I.’

But Gillon still knew not to take what he had for granted. That’s a lesson he learned years earlier when his life was on the line. A scar on his right arm was a reminder.

After the eight days he spent in the hospital in sixth grade, Gillon had to receive medicine through a port in his chest every eight hours for six weeks. The scheduling had to be impeccable: Right before school, right after school and around midnight.

The process was a challenge. Gillon hated being away from the court. While he still couldn’t unbend his right arm for several weeks, Gillon practiced dribbling and shooting with his left hand.

“A determination to live and let no one define his truths,” Phyllis Gillon said of how the experience shaped her son. “No one will tell him what he cannot do.”

As a high schooler, coaches told Gillon he’d never be a contributor at a high-profile program. He’d never play in a Power 5 conference. He’d never play Division I.

But Gillon worked his way up the college basketball ranks, elevating and removing the ceiling atop his career with each transfer he made.

As a freshman at Arkansas-Little Rock, Gillon started 12 games, averaged 10.6 points and led the Sun Belt Conference with an 81.7 free-throw percentage. At the end of the year, he decided to transfer because he knew he could play at a higher level.

After a breakout game during his redshirt sophomore year at Colorado State, he texted McClellan, his coach on Houston Hoops.

“Coach, it’s kind of easy,” Gillon wrote in the message, McClellan recalled. That’s when McClellan realized Gillon could one day make it on a bigger stage.

Later that season, Gillon went on to win Mountain West Sixth Man of the Year. In his redshirt junior year, he averaged 13.2 points and 3.8 assists, providing a dynamic spark to CSU’s offense.

That’s what set him up for the opportunity he never had out of high school even though he didn’t know it yet. When Gillon requested his release from Colorado State, he wasn’t sure how many schools, and at what level, would come calling.

He didn’t leave Colorado State on bad terms, Gillon said. With professional hopes in mind, he simply thought he could maximize a rule that allowed him to transfer and play immediately at a higher-profile school.

His family prayed the move would pay off since another year at Colorado State wasn’t a bad alternative. But once he got his release, there was no turning back. Forty schools came clamoring for Gillon’s talents, those of a fifth-year senior who’s seen the highs and lows of college basketball.

“I really had to apologize to him,” said John’s father, John Gillon, who wasn’t expecting that much interest.

Gillon narrowed his top three to Syracuse, Oklahoma and Texas A&M and eventually chose SU. Earlier in his career, he didn’t have much of a choice. With one season left, he had the chance to be selective.

At Orange Madness, Syracuse’s preseason pep rally on Oct. 21, SU’s returners received their Final Four rings from last season. Gillon looked into a camera, held up both hands and wiggled his fingers.

“I gotta get one of my own,” Gillon said. “I’m naked out here.”

As rapper Jadakiss performed one last song to end the event, Gillon stood next to him with the SU team surrounding them at halfcourt. He tilted his head back and gazed up at the ceiling as his eyes widened.

“John likes the lights on,” Phyllis Gillon said. “And he believes this is his stage.”

Banner photo by Jessica Sheldon | Photo Editor