Anthony Edwards’ electrifying Game 4 performance that propelled the Timberwolves to victory served as a heartfelt tribute to his late mother—and a powerful reminder to anyone coping with loss that resilience can become the most meaningful way to remember.
MINNEAPOLIS — The topic of Anthony Edwards’ late mother is rarely brought up in conversation. The lingering pain from losing her 11 years ago, and the drive she instilled in him, remain hidden beneath his vibrant, playful demeanor. He seldom speaks of the profound trauma he endured at 14—and still carries at 24.
But on Sunday, the Minnesota Timberwolves star found a way to communicate with her—using something far more powerful than words. The toughness she passed down. The confidence she poured into him. The gratitude she taught him.
During Game 4, he was so exhausted that with four minutes left in a timeout, he slipped into the tunnel for oxygen. San Antonio’s relentless wave of aggressive defenders hounded him harder as the game wore on, trapping and face-guarding him in the fourth quarter. His knees ached so much he preferred falling rather than landing on his feet. Yet Edwards summoned the love of his mother for a lift—and found even more.
He had enough lift on his turnaround jumpers and arc on his 3-pointers. Enough burst on his drives and strength to finish through contact. Enough to score 16 points in the fourth quarter, carrying the Timberwolves to a 114-109 victory and evening this Western Conference semifinal series at two games apiece.
When he stepped around a Rudy Gobert screen in the fourth quarter and drilled a dead-center three, sending the sellout crowd into a frenzy and forcing San Antonio into a timeout, Target Center buzzed with an electric energy, as if the will of a superstar were crafting a defining moment. His 36 points on 22 shots in 40 minutes helped Minnesota avoid a crushing defeat to a Spurs team that played most of the game without Victor Wembanyama, who was ejected in the second quarter.
Edwards’ competitiveness has long been well known. But on Sunday—Mother’s Day—his motivation came from a deeply personal place. He saw the occasion as the right moment to turn private pain into a public declaration.
“I just wanted to win for my mom,” he said. “It was that simple.”
Across America, people celebrated their mothers with breakfast in bed, brunch dates, flowers, candy, gifts, adventures, hugs, and quality time. Edwards, meanwhile, focused on the void that can never be filled. He thought all day about Yvette Edwards, who died from cancer on January 5, 2015. His gift to her: victory. His first career win on Mother’s Day.
Even amid the raucous cheers of Timberwolves fans on Sunday night, Edwards could almost certainly still hear Yvette screaming for him, just as she did during his youth football days. And just like on the football fields of Georgia—in Oakland City and Adamsville—everyone in Target Center recognized Ant’s mom.
Anthony Edwards scored 36 points in 40 minutes on Sunday, lifting the Wolves to a much-needed victory on Mother’s Day, 11 years after losing his mother to cancer. (Abbie Parr / AP)
He represented the millions who find this holiday painful. He showed that the grief that never fades can be transformed into an internal flame. His performance and his story illustrated how resilience can become the deepest form of remembrance.
For Edwards, Sunday marked 4,144 days since losing his mother.
For me, it marked four.
This Mother’s Day felt hollow. I couldn’t treat my mom to Red Lobster, her favorite. I didn’t buy Deana another set of soft pajamas, as she always wanted. I didn’t spend 20 minutes on the phone hearing how I was the favorite of her six children—being the firstborn. I couldn’t handle my annual tradition of reflecting while playing “Dear Mama” on repeat.
I didn’t want to taunt the emptiness. But watching Edwards play, I saw a man who turned his loss into a source of strength, not just for himself but for all of us still carrying the weight.