Ben Gilbert

Someone to Lean On

In his final year with the Lightning, the work still matters. So do the people he hopes will remember it.

Ben Gilbert’s basketball career began with a firm rejection of hockey.

He was four or five when his parents asked whether he wanted to play. His answer was decisive.

“No, absolutely not.”

There were practical considerations. He came from a very British family. He knew nothing about hockey. He couldn’t skate. Basketball, he announced, would be preferable—a choice that surprised his parents, who knew nothing about that sport either.

They signed him up anyway.

According to the family account, Ben spent his first hour-and-a-half session running at full speed. He didn’t dribble once. Just ran, loved it, and apparently saw no reason to complicate a good afternoon by involving the basketball.

Years later, the story has the familiar warmth of something parents keep long after their children have forgotten the day itself. Before the teams and training, before basketball became something he worked at, it was somewhere he wanted to be.

Now the 6-foot-1 Calgary product is entering his fifth and final year of collegiate eligibility with St. Mary’s. There’s a long distance between that first tykes session and a final season. Ben has spent much of it learning what basketball can give him—and what he wants to give back.

His early development wasn’t particularly cinematic. In Grade 6, he played centre for a U12 club team and hated it. A friend suggested another club. The following year, Ben moved to the wing and began improving.

“Honestly, it is not a very exciting story,” he says.

Fair enough. Sometimes the pivotal moment is a friend telling you to try somewhere else.

Last year’s profile captured a player seemingly always in motion: lifting, running, competing, volunteering. His background included coaching in the Special Olympics and helping children with autism and other disabilities develop physical-literacy skills. The impulse to be useful was already there.

This year, he describes that impulse more clearly.

“My goal for this season is to be someone that anyone can lean on.”

Players. Coaches. Athletics staff. Whoever needs him.

He wants people to know he’ll help carry their burdens if it makes the day a little lighter. That’s the contribution he’s thinking about as he approaches his last season: whether the people around him feel supported, and whether he’s willing to make the sacrifices that support requires.

His faith sits at the centre of it.

“As I’ve gotten older there are less ‘things’ that drive me forward,” he says.

Discipline remains. So does the desire to improve. But he’s giving more thought to the man he’s becoming—the man of faith he believes God intended him to be. Difficult days offer something to learn from and carry into the next one.

Representing the Lightning gives him a place to practice those convictions. He sees himself as an ambassador for the university, with an opportunity to show younger athletes and fellow students what leadership can look like.

Movember matters to him for much the same reason. Its focus on men’s mental health, and on speaking up when you’re struggling, connects directly to the teammate he wants to be. Being dependable also means helping people feel comfortable enough to say they need someone.

His ambitions beyond basketball are substantial: become the best firefighter, husband, father, son, brother, and person he can be.

Those are goals for a life that will keep unfolding after the final game. Ben’s advice to younger athletes makes room for that life.

“You are NOT your sport.”

He still has a season to play, work to do, and teammates to stand beside. When it’s over, he hopes they’ll remember his faith and his willingness to help shoulder their troubles.

The little boy who ran for ninety minutes without dribbling couldn’t have known where basketball would take him.

In his final year, Ben Gilbert is thinking about who he can help along the way.