Tyler Heffernan | Sea Devil Journalist

In the Schwartz Center, Tim Wilkes hears a loud voice calling out plays and shouting words of encouragement. Over 900 miles away, in St. Louis, Mo., he hears a much quieter voice saying: "I miss you, Daddy."

Wilkes, a forward on the Cape Fear Community College men's basketball team, is the type of player that coach Ryan Mantlo loves to teach. He'll direct him to do one thing on the court, and Wilkes will do it with a "Yes, sir" and unrivaled intensity.

But, Wilkes is more than just a basketball player. He's a family man: the father of two-year-old Londyn "Bells," who lives in St. Louis with her mother.

"It's my life," he said, staring towards a corner of Mantlo's office and letting his mind wander to that little voice he hears on the phone every night. "I have to be in my daughter's life. I can't fail. I try to work hard on and off the court—even harder off the court, because I know at the end of the day, my legs are going to go out."

Wilkes has faced the uncertain moment in an athlete's life when the sport that had captivated him for years was no longer there. It's helped him to appreciate the second chance he has in Wilmington but also realize the bigger picture.

After spending a year at Lewis & Clark Community College in Godfrey, Ill., Wilkes left the game behind because he was unhappy with his first season of collegiate basketball. He moved to Dallas, Texas to work as a suite runner in American Airlines Center, the home of the Dallas Mavericks.

"Basically trying to get my grown-man on, so to speak," he said, adding a laugh. Even though he was able to make a living in a basketball environment, Wilkes wasn't satisfied.

"It paid very well, but I just felt like I needed to be on the basketball court," he said. "I was around basketball all day, every day. I used to sit up there and watch them practice and be like, 'Man, maybe one day that could be me.'"

Wilkes felt distant to the game, despite its physical closeness.  It was right there, yet watching and playing were so different.

The job did have its perks, though. "I knew the times when the opposing team would come to the arena, so about that time, I would purposely take out the trash," he said. "I spoke to DeSagana Diop. I walked past Dwyane Wade. I never got to meet Kobe (Bryant)."

He dreamed about being the hidden talent who attracts the attention of one of the Mavericks' coaches. "I'm out there one day just shooting around, and a coach comes up to me and says, 'Hey, you got a good shot, you want to try out?' Even though I knew that would never happen," Wilkes said, laughing again in his usual, infectious way. "Being around it so much made me feel like I needed to change my environment up and go pursue it even more."

A former Lewis & Clark CC teammate, who had moved to Wilmington, introduced him to Mantlo in 2010. The Sea Devil coach was immediately won over. "What is unique about him is he's such a high-character kid, and especially in today's society, it's hard to find kids all about 'we' and not 'me,'" Mantlo said. "That's what we try to preach here, and he's obviously the epitome of what that is. We knew he was a hard worker. We knew he had a little girl that he works his tail off to keep that relationship and he was a solid basketball player, so it was a no-brainer for us as a staff."

The 6-foot-5-inch forward hadn't played competitive basketball in four years, but Mantlo welcomed him on a team coming off its best season in program history. "Taking that long off, sometimes can make you rusty but there's no rust with hustle," Mantlo said. "Anytime we need some energy or we need a rebound, he's the first one you think of because you never have to question whether he's ready to go."

Wilkes, 23, is on track to earn his Associate's degree and pursue a career in dental hygiene. "People say I got a Colgate smile; I want to make everyone else have one too," Wilkes said.

His mother received a GED and his father finished high school. He'll be the first in his family to receive a college degree. He hopes his education will allow him to provide for his daughter. The little voice on the phone nearly 1,000 miles away depends on it.

"Basketball to him, he's not afraid of losing because there's a bigger entity in his daughter," Mantlo said. "This is a game that he can appreciate and learn from, but at the end of the day, there's a more important being out there than basketball, and I think that's awesome."

Center of attention

Taking a charge won't get you any recognition in the box score. Most fans don't appreciate the discipline needed to stand in front of an accelerating player and allow yourself to get knocked to the ground. It'll never crack the SportsCenter Top 10 plays, either.

But, it's a momentum changer. The opposing team gets whistled for a foul and slapped with a turnover. It's all about team welfare.

Tim Wilkes' favorite individual moment on the court this season is taking a charge. He's made 22 field goals, grabbed 40 rebounds and collected 17 steals. His first charge trumps those other statistics.

"I don't think I ever took a charge in high school," he said. "This year, I'm trying to take a charge. I was always the one trying to block a shot."

About a decade earlier, Wilkes was the popular kid in school. He had athletic abilities and a personable nature. His brother was right there with him—a pair demanding all the attention. Behind his right ear, a tattoo reads: "COA."

"Back in the day, people used to call us pretty boys," he said. "We were always the center of attention."

Wilkes has ink all over his body. He said every one of them means something, from the names of his parents on his hands to an inside joke with his grandmother on his back. "COA" is the misfit now.

Instead, he prefers to get knocked down for the sake of the Sea Devils. "Somebody else want to have the spotlight? Go ahead," he said.

"It's refreshing to coach a kid like that," Mantlo added. "He's our glue on this team. He's got as important of a role as anybody, if not more important."

Energy in the right capacity

Two things come to mind when a basketball player is labeled as an "energy guy." It's either a quick-tempered athlete or a player whose value is more substantial in hustle.

Tim Wilkes is the latter. An incident at Lewis & Clark CC caused him to receive 37 stitches above his right eye after getting struck by a shovel in an altercation where he said he was the unintended victim in the "wrong place at the wrong time." Instead of having a personal vendetta, Wilkes made sure he wouldn't have to explain to his toddler why Daddy went to the hospital. He eventually enrolled at CFCC, a time zone away.

He gets his "peacemaker" attitude from his father, Timothy Wilkes, Sr., who raised him as a single parent. "I rarely get mad. The only thing that could make me mad off the top of my head if it comes with my daughter," Wilkes said, raising his voice slightly.

"Anything that has to do with my daughter, that's like my switch. Hands down, if something were to happen to my daughter, I'd give up basketball just like that. I'm here because I felt like me working 9-5 wasn't being able to provide for her the way I want to. The way my dad raised me, I want to raise my daughter like that.

"I want my daughter to look at me the way I look at my dad."

In that regard, little Londyn's voice is louder than any command from Mantlo or any arguing in a backyard brawl.