With one regular season game left, Lucas Monroe reflects on his time with men’s basketball

The senior guard has started 23 games for the Quakers this season

NETHRA WICKRAMASINGHE Sports Reporter

It’s easy to see why senior guard Lucas Monroe is a team captain for Penn men’s basketball. With a confidence that can only stem from years of practice and a suave maturity, it’s apparent that Monroe captures the attention of whatever setting he’s in — something he’s proved transcends far beyond basketball.

As Monroe put it, “I don’t want to be one dimensional,” and it’s apparent that he’s not. The multifaceted nature of his interests sets him apart from most collegiate athletes. Monroe has spent his time at Penn making a name for himself, as not only a leader but as an individual capable of creating tangible change, both on and off the court.

His athleticism alone speaks volumes, but his positive outlook sets him apart from most Division I players. Most importantly, he’s someone whose sunny attitude doesn’t waiver, regardless of whether he’s starting or coming off the bench. This effervescence is integral to his personal brand of leadership, which coach Steve Donahue notes is derived from the ability to think strategically and motivate others around him.

Donahue describes him as cerebral, praising his acute ability to analytically evaluate the game and his intrinsic understanding of maximizing the team’s potential. Aggressive is a difficult term to reconcile with someone who greets everyone with a smile; however, Monroe’s ability to apply aggression when the situation warrants it makes him a formidable force on the court — something that Donahue has attributed to the recent winning

BASEBALL , from BACK PAGE

experience playing women’s baseball on the national level back home in Canada to anyone who will listen.

I dream of a world where women have their own baseball teams in the NCAA and in the Olympics.

I truly believe we are progressing towards making that a reality — largely due to high-profile skilled female baseball players like Mo’ne Davis, Kelsie Whitmore, and now Pichardo. Women’s baseball is its own thriving community, and majority male teams should not be the only option for women who want to play baseball. But by fighting their way into spaces that so long rejected them based on their gender, these players are forcing the world to acknowledge their existence and reckon with the idea that baseball is for everyone.

Most female baseball players face an inflection point in their careers where it no longer makes sense to continue playing with men. For me, that happened when I was 17, after my senior year of high school. Without higher goals of college recruitment or scholarships available — not to mention the difficulties that may come with being the only female player on a team — girls who persist in baseball, even just through high school, are in the minority. The pressure to switch to softball is immense.

But Pichardo has pushed past that point. By earning a spot on Brown’s roster, she proves that there’s a possibility of something more for girls who want to play baseball.

I was once one of those girls growing up on a baseball diamond surrounded by boys and men. I heard my whole life that I should be playing softball instead. Half the time, people didn’t even believe me when I told them I played baseball, just assuming because of my gender that I meant softball — at least, until I qualified it with “on a boys’ team.” streak the team has experienced, championed by Monroe’s effective leadership.

But now, every single person who reads an ESPN article or sees a viral tweet that proclaims there’s a woman playing Division I baseball … well, they might rethink that deeply entrenched assumption.

It can be tough to be the first, to be the only. It comes with a lot of pressure, and I can only imagine the weight of Division I. I have distinct memories of watching Sarah Fuller with bated breath when she took the field as Vanderbilt’s kicker in 2020 — the first woman to play in a Power Five football game. The rest of America was watching her too.

The youngest of five children, Monroe credited his family for shaping his love of the game. He recalled stealing his brother’s old basketball shoes and yearning to follow in his footsteps. Monroe’s interest in the game didn’t fully solidify until seventh grade, when he first began playing competitively.

Family means everything to Monroe, who committed to Penn not just because of the successes of the basketball program and academic rigor, but also for its proximity to his parents and siblings. This sense of family is something that he has also gained from the basketball team — noting that his teammates feel more like brothers than anything else. Given that team members spend an extensive amount of time training, traveling, and playing together, it’s no surprise that the majority of these friendships exist off the court.

“He’s always been like a big brother to me,” sophomore forward/center Nick Spinoso said, recounting how Monroe was one of the first people he met during the recruitment process and gave him a place to stay when he first came to Philadelphia. “He’s one of the most generous people I know.”

Activism is also something that Monroe has woven into his athletic career. He reflected on a series of games last season, where the team had made a collective decision to sit down for the national anthem — a sign of solidarity in actively demonstrating opposition to racism and support for the Black Lives Matter movement.

“People had a lot of choice words for us,” Monroe said, recalling games in Florida, Arkansas, and South Carolina where the gesture was more broadly felt. Monroe noted that despite the backlash, many people appreciated and stood by the team’s decision. For him, the main objective was to spark a conversation, opening an avenue to bridge the intersection of sports and social justice.

Monroe has defined himself as a champion of social justice through his work as part of the first class of undergraduate fellows in the Office of Social Equity and Community. Within this role, he has hosted programming events such as service projects and a sports society that honed in on the work that remains in reaching racial equity in collegiate sports. While his teammates are no strangers to his persuasive and rousing motivational speeches as captain, Monroe has transferred his dynamic prowess as a leader to public speaking — notably addressing a crowd of nearly 900 Black Lives Matter protesters in his hometown of

Abington, Pa. in 2020.

In regard to his aspirations on the court, Monroe has his sights set on hanging a championship banner in the Palestra. While no plans have firmly been put in place, you’ll definitely be seeing Monroe on the court next year — even if he’s not sporting Penn’s Red and Blue. He plans to use his remaining year of eligibility to keep playing at the collegiate level next year while completing a master’s degree.

“That would be a dream, to be a professional basketball player,” Monroe said. The senior has also toyed with the idea of playing overseas, excited by the prospect of applying the culmination of skills he has amassed at Penn while experiencing the novelty of integrating himself into another country.

Despite having a mountain of achievements under his belt and an appetite for success,

Monroe’s personal legacy is refreshingly humble.

“Personally, it’s always nice to be remembered,” he said. “I wanna be remembered as a good person, I guess, as simple as that is. When someone thinks of Lucas, I want people to be like … He’s a goodass dude. If I do that, if I leave here, and that’s how people remember me, I’m OK with that.”

“He’s got endless possibilities basketball-wise, I don’t think he’s close to who he can be,” Donahue added. “I’m excited for the things he can impact in his life. Whatever he decides, he’s someone who will raise the level of whatever organization he’s in, just because that’s what he does.”

For someone who wants to be remembered as a friendly face, it’s clear that legacy has been cemented at Penn. As Donahue put it, “The thing about Lucas is, he’s someone you want to be around.”

To open the second half of that game, Fuller executed a 30-yard squib kick. Under the video of her performance posted by ESPN, the comments were a cesspool. Trolls felt the need to share their opinions: that the kick was weak, that they could do better, and that this was clearly all a publicity stunt. Never mind the fact that the kick was actually a designed play; never mind the fact that Vanderbilt’s head coach said Fuller executed their plan perfectly.

The same sort of nonsense popped up under news of Pichardo making the Brown baseball roster; commenters screeched that it’s all a PR move, or they expressed condolences to the imaginary male player whose spot Pichardo must have unfairly taken.

There is no room for error when you’re a woman playing a man’s game. Even if you are perfect — an impossibility in sports, and especially in a sport like baseball — people will still watch and wait for anything they can criticize, anything to confirm their preconceived notions of you and your skill in their small heads. Whether you like it or not, you are making a statement just by existing, by doing the same thing that millions of boys have done before you.

But all of that is going to happen to any pioneer. When you break a glass ceiling, the shards may graze you as they fall.

So, to those who might try to discredit her: Pichardo’s accomplishment is incredibly important because it shows what is possible. I am glad to be able to witness it. Perhaps a little girl who grows up loving the Phillies will not automatically sign up for softball tryouts just because it’s the next best thing; perhaps she will try her hand at baseball because she knows Olivia’s story. Perhaps little boys will more readily accept a female teammate, because they’ve seen that girls can play baseball at high levels. Perhaps the naysayers online will eventually grow quieter — drowned out by the growing support for women in baseball, and the sad trolls will stay just that. Pichardo is the first to break a glass ceiling that even I thought might stay intact forever. Let’s not let her be the last one through it.