Imagine this: a young gymnast, moments before stepping into the arena, heart racing, hands chalked, nerves pulsing through her fingertips, pauses to send a text every time. Not to a coach. Not to a teammate. But to her father. Sweet, simple, routine—except for one thing. Her father passed away four years ago. Yet, Konnor McClain still texts him. It’s not about expecting a reply, though. It’s about connection, memory, and love that hasn’t faded with time. It’s her way of keeping him close, of grounding herself in the one voice she used to hear cheering the loudest. Heartfelt, right? 

Konnor lost her father, Marc, in 2021, when she was just 16. He battled COVID-19 during its most unforgiving days. His condition became critical. He was placed on a ventilator. And even as the world felt like it was collapsing around her, Konnor didn’t give up. She FaceTimed him as often as she could, just to let him hear her voice. “I was just like—if my dad dies, like I die,” she said in ESPN Originals’ today’s feature. Her voice trembled as she revisited those helpless nights, wishing, praying, hoping he could somehow still hear her.

However, the Tiger Lady from LSU still searches for traces of him—in the gym bleachers he once sat in, in the halls of competition venues where he once stood proudly. Her grief became her quiet companion and, somehow, also her strength. The same belief echoed in McClain’s words. 

“We knew he was listening,” Konnor said, her voice soft with memory. “Because sometimes… like, a tear would drop from his face.” In those final days, they couldn’t be together. Konnor was in Dallas, training tirelessly at the gym, chasing the dream they had built together. Her father, Marc, was in Las Vegas with her brother, fighting for his life in a hospital room in a ventilator. The physical distance between them felt unbearable—but it never broke their bond.

 Every FaceTime call, every whispered ‘I love you,’ every choked-back tear through a phone screen was Konnor McClain’s way of holding on. What more could a girl do, caught between the demands of an elite sport and the helpless ache of watching her hero fade away through pixels on a screen?   

All she could do was keep showing up. Keep calling. Keep loving him—even from afar. “December 27th… we all got to see him,” Konnor said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We didn’t get to touch him or anything, but we all got to look at him.” But on December 27, 2021, that mortal bond was forced to break. COVID restrictions made the goodbye cruel. No hugs. No final hand squeeze. Just a room full of grief. But could any regulation truly sever a connection built on so much love? Could a mask or a sheet of glass mute the lifetime of sacrifice, laughter, and unwavering support?

She still clings to the memory of the man who shielded her from the world like it was second nature. Protective, proud, present. She laughs softly when she remembers how serious he got when college recruiters started calling.

Konnor McClain and her coach remember a bit about her father’s take on LSU

“He loved it here,” Konnor said about LSU. “But he wouldn’t let me come until he met Jay [Clark] and like the rest of the coaches.” That was just who Marc McClain was—he didn’t hand over his daughter’s future to anyone without a handshake, a look in the eye, and a sense of trust. It was his way of still standing between her and the world, even as she grew into it. 

“He made it clear to me,” LSU gymnastics coach Jay Clark said, his voice thick with emotion in the ESPN Originals clip. “If his daughter came to LSU… he was holding me accountable. To make him sure that she was taken care of.” Are you crying, though?

However, Marc McClain wasn’t just handing over a gymnast. He was handing over his daughter, his pride, his everything. And he needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she’d be protected, valued, and seen for who she truly was—not just as an athlete but as the bright, sensitive, unstoppable force he had raised. “She was super special to him”, Coach Clark continued. 

Marc wasn’t there to walk Konnor onto campus. He may not have been there to help Konnor McClain unpack her bags or watch her first meet in purple and gold. But his presence lingered. It lived in the expectations, in the care, in the quiet understanding that this young woman carried a legacy of love far greater than gymnastics. It wasn’t just about routines or scores. And even now, long after Marc’s passing, Coach Clark carries that promise with him. Because some bonds don’t end. They live on in those who were loved the most.