EAST LANSING, Mich. — Mike Garland leaned back in his chair courtside at the Breslin Center, slowly working over the chewing gum in his mouth and paused ever so briefly.
"It was a heck of a journey, man," he said, trying to put in perspective the ride he and his family have taken for the better part of the last two years.
It's included the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, tears of desperation and self-doubt along with absolute elation and thanks to a higher power, all while trying to remain an integral part of one of the highest-profile college basketball teams in the country.
While Garland was busy in the role most know him for — a longtime assistant to Michigan State coach Tom Izzo, battling to win Big Ten titles and reach Final Fours — he also was joining his son, Ray, who was in the fight of his life, his enlarged heart damaged to the point it became clear the only option was a transplant.
It all began in June 2011. Then 26, Ray Garland couldn't shake what he thought was a cold, perhaps the flu. A handful of tests later, he was diagnosed with an enlarged heart and was in congestive heart failure.
It started with a virus
"They said it was probably caused by something viral," Ray Garland said. "But there was really no way for them to figure it out, but it most likely was a virus."
That's a tough diagnosis at such a young age, and when Garland, who lives in Cleveland, was in East Lansing visiting his dad and his mom, Cynthia, in December 2019, he contracted pneumonia. Because of the condition discovered years earlier, Ray's heart was worsening and with some pushing from his dad, Ray was transferred back home to the Cleveland Clinic.
Mike stepped away from the team briefly at that point as the Spartans were battling through the early part of the Big Ten schedule while dealing with their own bigger-than-basketball issues. Senior guard Cassius Winston was still grappling with the death of his brother, Zachary, and Garland had been the one Winston had leaned on the most.
Garland was torn between being there for his son and being there for his players.
"I love every guy in this program, and you know Tom and I's relationship," Garland said. "But that's my son. I gotta make sure that he's all right, otherwise none of this means anything."
It was an impossible spot to be in for Garland, and he leaned heavily on those closest to him — Izzo, his college teammate at Northern Michigan and a man Garland thinks of as a brother, and associate head coach Dwayne Stephens. There were plenty of lengthy phone calls with both, who always assured Garland he was where he needed to be.
But by late January, Garland had returned to the team for a game at Minnesota. The Spartans got back to East Lansing late at night after the game and Garland contemplated driving to Cleveland as soon as he got home. He was tired, though, and decided it would be best to get some sleep and leave in the morning.
At 5:30 a.m., his phone rang. It was Ray.
"They're taking me in, Dad," Ray said. "I need you here."
Doctors were quickly taking Ray Garland in to install a left ventricular assist device (LVAD), a pump used for patients who have reached end-stage heart failure.
Garland threw some clothes together, ran to his car and started driving — fast, beating himself up for not trusting his gut.
"That was tough," Garland said. "Sometimes your inner spirit tells you something. Sometimes your inner spirit is screaming at you. In that situation, my inner spirit was screaming at me to leave that night and I disregarded it. ... The kid was scared to death."
Ray was scared, but he hadn't lost hope.
"I think it was tougher for them than it was for me," Ray said of his parents. "I always had faith through it, and I trusted my doctors. So, whenever they came and said, 'These are the options,' I usually said, 'OK, let's get it done as soon as possible.' Because if it's gonna be life or death, I'm not gonna run from it. I'm gonna try to find a solution first."
The solution was the LVAD, and by the time Mike got to the Cleveland Clinic, the procedure had been completed. The pump was in and Ray was OK. In fact, he was back in East Lansing in early March when Michigan State beat Ohio State on the final day of the regular season to capture a share of the Big Ten title for the third straight season.
Soon the season was shut down because of COVID-19, but Ray Garland was in a much better place, the pump installed as he continued do wait for a new heart. Things were going well. The Garlands could rest easy.
Fast forward to this summer and Ray Garland's body had started to reject the pump. An infection had developed in his chest and doctors needed to go in and see if they could, essentially, scrape it out. They did the best they could, but the infection persisted.
The doctors needed to get the pump out, but keep Garland alive. They had a plan, but it was a surgery that had never been done. They told Mike and Cynthia it was risky. Ray could die, and if he made it, any number of complications could follow.
They went for it, and true to form, Ray Garland made it through. Days later in the early morning hours of June 1 — the day after Mike Garland celebrated his 67th birthday — Mike got a call.
"Dad," Ray Garland said. "I got a heart."
"He had three major heart surgeries in 21 days," Mike Garland said.
It was late at night when the transplant surgery was completed, so the doctors told Mike and Cynthia they should head home, get some rest, and come back in the morning. By the time Mike rolled in just before 8 a.m., he pulled the curtain back in the ICU and could hardly believe his eyes.
"He's sitting straight up in the bed smiling at me," Mike said. "It was unbelievable. Unbelievable. A few hours later they're standing him up and putting him in a chair. Then within a few hours he's taking a couple steps and it wasn't even 24 hours. I mean, this is miracle-type stuff.
"I've learned so much about the medical industry and what they do, what they can do. It's miraculous. Through that and faith and those good people, I believe the good Lord pushed us through."
'It's still a process'
Ray Garland, now 37, is now about six months post-transplant and he's doing his best to reintegrate himself into everyday life. Plenty of his time is spent taking his 14-year-old daughter, Jackie, to her volleyball and basketball games as he goes through cardiac rehab at the Cleveland Clinic, while also working out at home.
"It's still a process," said Ray Garland, who has been documenting his journey on Instagram. "The medications — the Prednisone and the rejection medications — sometimes make it difficult because you have different side effects. But I've been able to do mostly everything, so it's a lot better, but it's still a tough process."
While Ray continues to adapt to his new life, Mike Garland has begun a new chapter, as well.
Just before this season began, Garland shifted from assistant coach to special assistant to the head coach. On the surface, not much has changed. Garland is still breaking down film, working on game plans, pushing players to be the best they can be both on and off the court. After all, that's what Garland, now in his 22nd season with the Spartans, has really always done.
But some of the more time-consuming things — namely being on the road recruiting — have been taken off Garland's plate. That's allowed "OG" — it's how the players affectionately refer to the "original gangster" on the staff for the wisdom he imparts — to keep lending his ear to current players while helping the program remain connected with its alums.
"I miss being an integral part of it," Garland said, though it would be impossible to find a single person in the program who doesn't believe Garland is still integral. "I've been a basketball coach for 40 years, so, do I miss that? Yeah, I miss that. But there's nobody bigger than the program. And dealing with my son and his situation, it was best — best for him, best for them.
"My son's doing extremely well right now, but we're not past that point where I can just say, 'Hey, I know nothing's gonna happen.' So this will afford me to be able to leave and go if I have to get back, go see him a little more. So it's working out."
This Christmas will be a special one for the Garlands, even with the possibility they won't be able to gather. Ray says there's a chance his immediate family — he has a brother, sister and six nieces and nephews — can get together in the next few days, but with the omicron variant of COVID-19 spiking, Ray's doctors want him to be cautious.
"If anybody is sick, I might not be able to," Ray Garland said.
Together or not, the Garlands surely will be grateful this holiday season as they appreciate how far they've all come.
It's something that can be hard to comprehend, and Mike Garland said there were some dark moments. But in the end, their faith was rewarded.
"Several times throughout this whole ordeal, I just wondered if we were gonna lose him," Garland said, pausing briefly again to process it all. "But it didn't happen. We were in the best place we could be and he's a pretty tough little dude."
