One of the most beautiful and rewarding parts of being a sports beat reporter is the relationships you build. You have hundreds of conversations with coaches and players over several months. What starts out as postgame interviews asking about team performance, quickly translates into deep conversations about life.
For the three of us, we each had the honor of covering the women’s volleyball team. And most importantly, build a relationship with head coach Deana Jespersen.
Jespersen passed away earlier this week after a courageous battle with breast cancer, and all three of us are deeply saddened by this news. She touched each of our lives in so many ways, and a part of us will forever be missing without her.
Deana Jespersen was a lover, fighter, and everything in between. The three of us were lucky enough to get to know her through our work as journalists, and this piece is for her.
In it, we pour out our love for Deana on a page and share our favorite stories from the time we spent with her.
We love you Coach, and we will miss you terribly. Thank you for everything.
Love,
Sarah Shockey, Katie Thorn, and Luke Brown
Sarah Shockey, Sports Editor, Women’s Volleyball Beat Reporter (2024):
The first ever sport I covered as a beat reporter for The Whit was the women’s volleyball team. I had never covered a sport before, but was eager to grow in that style of writing. Being a sports journalist was something I could see myself doing, and a profession I felt was my calling.
A few days before women’s volleyball’s 2024 season began, I stopped by Deana’s office to introduce myself. I walked through her door and was immediately greeted with a warm, friendly smile. After our first interaction, the nerves about the upcoming season went away. I felt comfort in knowing she would be my main point of contact over the next few months.
My first ever match I covered was in September of 2024. For the entirety of that season, I had the privilege of speaking to Deana post game after every exciting win and crushing loss.
When I would walk up to her in Esby Gymnasium to greet her, Coach Jespersen always called me by my first name. While it may seem like a meaningless gesture, her saying “Sarah” before every interaction made me feel remembered, respected, and loved.
The last time I spoke to Deana was over the phone in November of 2024. Her team had just lost in the NJAC semifinals to William Paterson the day prior, and that call would end up being our last conversation.
After I asked my questions, I thanked Deana for her kindness and cooperation, and told her how much fun I had covering her team. Her response was this:
“No problem. Anytime you need anything, just let me know.”
That’s the kind of person Deana was. It didn’t matter if it was the girls on her team, or the students who reported on them, she loved and cared for every single person in her life.
I’ve never been so touched by somebody as deeply as I was by Deana. Our conversations always felt like home, and she quickly became someone I felt I could turn to if I needed anything.
After finding out about Deana’s passing, I listened back to the audio of our final interview. I cried when we said our final goodbyes, and at the words of encouragement she left me with.
“Good luck, Sarah,” she said.
Deana was a special person. She touched the lives of everyone she knew, including mine.
For the rest of my career, I’ll never speak to a coach with as much passion, love, and fight as Deana Jespersen. I’ll look for her in every person I meet, and remember her in every story I write.
Thank you Deana for being such a positive light. You are so loved, and we will all miss you deeply.
Katie Thorn, Managing Editor, Women’s Volleyball Beat Reporter (2025):
As journalists, we are taught to tell stories through the power of words. For the first time in a long time, I find myself at a loss for them.
I started my volleyball career at the ripe old age of 12. In the fall of seventh grade, I signed to play club volleyball for Mystique Volleyball Club. Here, I was coached by players on the Rowan University volleyball team. As I idolized and admired the college athletes coaching me, there was always one woman in the room I sought to impress and turned to as a source for inspiration – Deana Jespersen.
Whenever she stood in on practice, she wouldn’t just give helpful volleyball advice. She would exude positive energy, radiate confidence, and filled the room with so much joy. As Esby Gym radiated with joy, I fell more and more in love with the game.
Fast forward to my sophomore year of college. As a recent transfer student pursuing journalism, I was assigned to cover an event for my News Reporting I class. For this assignment, I decided to cover what I had known and loved, a volleyball match. So to Esby Gym I went.
I walked into the gym, and immediately was brought back to that excited, doe-eyed 12-year-old girl. The match went on, and I excitedly waited in the bleachers. Rowan finished off the match, and it was time to get an interview from the woman who coached me long before.
As a new student at Rowan, I had struggled with confidence. I felt like I didn’t belong. But with butterflies in my stomach, I walked over to her and went to introduce myself, just in case she forgot who I was. Immediately, she embraced me with a hug and told me that she remembered me from all those years before. For the first time as a student enrolled in the university, I felt a sense of belonging.
Here I am, over a year after this interaction, as a beat writer for the volleyball team. After each conversation I had with Coach, I walked away admired by her wisdom, generosity, kindness and overall joy for life. I have had the honor of knowing Deana since my middle school club volleyball days, and from then to now, I will always admire and remember the impact she has had on my life and the lives of many others.
Deana wasn’t just a coach but a confident, intelligent and inspiring woman who radiated joy and showed what it means to be a fighter. She has made an impact on my life since the seventh grade, and she will continue to be an inspiration for the rest of my life.
And to Deana, thank you. You’ve been an inspiration to me and so many others. You embodied love, created community, and touched the lives of everyone you came across.
Luke Brown, The Whit Sports Beat Writer, Women’s Volleyball Beat Reporter (Rowan Radio 89.7 WGLS-FM/Rowan Television Network):
Deana Jespersen wanted to get her picture taken before our first interview ever. It was a simple request, one I was more than happy to accommodate by waiting.
“I haven’t had a good picture taken in a well,” she said.
I chuckled at what seemed like a self deprecating crack at a goofy smile in last year’s headshot, or an angle she didn’t care for.
“Since breast cancer,” she said.
My heart sank. This person I just met revealed a deeply personal thing to me. And I chuckled, having no clue what’s happened in Deana Jespersen’s fascinating life, and even less of a clue of what was about to happen.
Minutes later, in the hallway behind the gymnasium, I spoke to Coach Jespersen for some general season quotes for five minutes, 12 seconds. But, you never just got just some general quotes from Deana, and I learned that quickly. I asked her about what it meant to coach two seniors, Vanessa Hutchinson and Jena Kaul, one final time.
“The two of them are actually very very tied to my journey here at Rowan with breast cancer,” said Jespersen in that interview. “There’s a picture in the hallway where they’re sitting in the stands for the first [NJAC] championship.”
Quickly, I found that photo in the hallway of two high school seniors, Kaul and Hutchinson, watching the team they were about to join win their first conference title under Jespersen. By the time I got back to my apartment and met my mom for dinner, it was settled.
I was going to write a story about the three of them – Jespersen, Kaul and Hutchinson – and their journey through volleyball, cancer, and life together.
On Sept. 29, I sat down with them in the conference room in Esby Gymnasium. There is no interview that compares, it’s my favorite of my career. Here I was, just a sophomore at a university that I was ready to leave the year prior, talking about life with two tremendous athletes and one unbelievable coach.
My final question in our interview was, “Do you care if I stay to watch practice?”
“Of course not! You can do whatever you want,” she said.
All 17 players huddled up to hear Jespersen’s practice plan, which ended with her saying “Everyone say hi to Luke!”
Embarrassingly enough, I was too dug into my notes from the interview to hear them, and awkwardly said “Hello!” once I understood I had ignored the team I cover every day.
Every game was a treat. It was, and continues to be, the first team that has ever made me sad simply by getting close to the end of a game. I wish they could play ten sets, sometimes. But, the bitterness of a game ending quickly turns into excitement to interview and be around the players and their families postgame, and of course, a chance to interview Deana.
On Oct. 10, the team suited up for a rare Friday night home game. It was no different than any non-conference game, but not for me. This was the first chance for my mom and grandparents to come see this team I’ve been raving about all semester.
Two days prior, my regularly scheduled weekly interview with Deana was moved to the phone. I knew she wasn’t feeling well, presumably a regular cold. Still, she took time to field questions postgame in between coughs. When I mentioned my family had come down, she immediately said, “Are they still here?”
I didn’t ask her to come talk to my family, but she just wanted to. She promised to get my grandfather some Philadelphia Eagles attire, since he decided to come to South Jersey dressed head to toe in Denver Broncos gear a week after the Eagles lost to Denver. She exchanged compliments with my mom on the feature story I had published nine days prior, covering her battle through cancer.
After a few minutes chatting, she said, “Luke does a fantastic job. I wish we could have him forever.”
That was the final time I ever saw Coach Deana Jespersen, and the final conversation I ever had with her.
And so, the feeling is mutual, Coach. I wish that we could have you forever, too.
By living a little bit more like you every day – with warmth, compassion and love – we can keep you with us forever. Thanks for everything, Coach, we will miss you.
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