LAST OCTOBER, just seven months after receiving a life-saving heart transplant, 11-year NBA veteran Scot Pollard found himself back in the hospital. This time, however, the visit was for his son, Ozzy.
Ozzy Pollard, the third of Scot`s four children, was a senior tight end on his high school football team. Midway through the season, he sustained injuries to his ACL and meniscus, requiring surgery to repair them.
The Pollard family was no stranger to the anxieties surrounding surgery; Scot himself had spent the previous three years battling a genetic heart condition.
During his time playing at the University of Kansas and in the NBA, Scot cultivated a unique persona that made him a fan favorite across the league. Known for his distinctive, ever-changing hairstyles and fierce competitive spirit, he garnered widespread admiration.
Yet, over a decade into retirement, Scot`s vibrant energy had gradually waned, his days increasingly consumed by medical appointments, diagnostic tests, and persistent uncertainty.
At just 48 years old, a man who had recently embodied peak physical prowess was now in active heart failure.
“I remember thinking, `If this is the end, I`ll be okay,`” he recalled. “`But if it`s not, I have so much left to do.`”
He paused before adding, “I`m incredibly grateful that I do have a lot left to do.”
Scot received his new heart on February 16, 2024.
The process of organ donation typically maintains strict anonymity. Neither the donor family nor the recipient receives specific details about the other party, unless the transplant recipient chooses to initiate contact after the procedure.
Scot spent five months reflecting on his profound experience before deciding to write a letter to the anonymous family who had given him this gift of life.
In his heartfelt message, he referred to his donor as a hero.
“My name is Scot,” he wrote. “I live in Indiana and I’m writing this letter to express mine and my family’s unending appreciation for your loved one’s gift of life. My wife, myself, our four children, our extended family and friends are all forever grateful!”
He continued, expressing his deep gratitude and hope for connection.
“We would love the opportunity to meet at some point if you’re amenable to that idea. We want to let you know that your loved one’s heart is going to be loved and cared for and will give love back.”
“We have already begun raising donor awareness in our community and are going nationwide. I’ve already connected with multiple donor networks in various communities to assist them in promoting becoming a donor.”
“Your loved one is our hero and he will live on forever through me and our efforts of getting more people to be selfless heroes like him.”
He acknowledged the sensitivity of the situation. “If you don’t feel comfortable responding, I completely understand. I just wanted you to know my lifelong appreciation for him. He truly is my hero.”
Scot sent the letter through his hospital, which forwarded it to the donor`s hospital, and finally to the donor`s family. The decision of whether or not to reply rested entirely with them.
“I can easily understand why many people might say, `I don`t want to know the person who received a kidney, or lungs, or eyes. It`s just too much,`” Scot explained. “Transplant programs prepare you for that reality, that most people don`t respond.”
Days turned into weeks, and Scot`s hope of hearing back from the family who had saved him began to fade.
Then, three months after sending his letter, while sitting in the hospital with Ozzy awaiting his son`s surgery, Scot checked his email. They had written back.
ON FEBRUARY 6, 2024, Scot Pollard was critically ill. The day before, he and his wife, Dawn, had arrived at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville, Tennessee, for what was scheduled as a three-day evaluation for a heart transplant.
Scot was already listed on transplant registries in Indianapolis and Chicago. He had come to Nashville, about 300 miles from their home in Carmel, Indiana, hoping that being on a list in another transplant region would increase his chances of finding a suitable match.
Dr. Jonathan Menachem, a cardiologist at Vanderbilt, felt Scot`s wrist.
“Your pulse is slow,” he observed. “Is it usually this slow?”
Scot then lay down on a hospital bed, and Dr. Menachem listened to his heart with a stethoscope.
“Do you get short of breath just lying down like this?” he inquired.
Scot closed his eyes and nodded.
“Seeing someone lie down and become short of breath that quickly is very concerning,” Dr. Menachem later commented.
Scot was in the advanced stages of heart failure. He was immediately admitted to the intensive care unit, and an urgent search for a suitable donor heart commenced.
“He was swollen with fluid and lacked sufficient blood flow circulating throughout his body,” Dr. Menachem explained. “They believed they were just visiting before heading back to Indiana.”
Reviewing Scot`s critical state, Dr. Menachem and his colleague exchanged a look. “We both realized, `This man cannot possibly go home,`” he said.
Scot`s heart was failing due to cardiomyopathy, a disease that impairs the heart muscle`s ability to pump blood effectively. The strain on his heart, combined with the increased blood volume needed for his large physical build, caused him to weaken rapidly.
“I felt very attached to my heart,” he shared from the hospital. “I thought it was the best one because it`s the one I was born with. My biggest fear was that the next one wouldn`t be adequate.”
As he underwent further tests, numerous nodes were attached to his chest and fingers, the steady beeping of a heart monitor a constant reminder of his precarious situation.
“I`m generally not afraid of things,” Scot stated. “But sitting here, waiting for a new heart, the unknown can truly be terrifying.”
SCOT INHERITED HIS impressive height from his father, Pearl, who stood 6-foot-8. Later, when Scot was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy, he came to understand that he had likely inherited that condition as well.
In 1952, Pearl`s father moved the family from Montana to Utah with the intention of developing his son into a boxer. However, as Scot recounts, the local basketball coach discovered Pearl first.
Pearl played center for Jordan High School, south of Salt Lake City, and quickly earned the nickname “Poison” Pollard for his lethal hook shot. He led the Beetdiggers to back-to-back state high school championships, setting the state tournament scoring record in 1955.
Earlier that year, he was featured alongside Wilt Chamberlain in a Life magazine spread highlighting the country`s tallest high school basketball players.
Pearl went on to play for the University of Utah from 1956 to 1959, finishing as the team`s leading scorer during the 1958-59 season.
“He was a giant of a man in every sense of the word,” Scot said.
When Scot was 12, the family moved from Utah to San Diego, and it was there that he first noticed his father`s health beginning to decline. Three years later, Pearl was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy at the age of 53. He was placed on the heart transplant list, but finding an organ donor of a similar size proved nearly impossible.
“We knew it was effectively a death sentence,” said Scot, who was the youngest of six siblings. “I just kept thinking, `Oh God, I`m going to grow up without my dad.`”
One morning in October 1991, Scot was coming up from the beach after surfing during gym class. Pearl, by chance, drove by in his white city-issued pickup truck and stopped for a brief conversation with his son.
Just a few hours later, Scot received a phone call from a friend. He was told that Pearl`s truck had crashed into a country club parking lot and paramedics were on the scene.
Pearl had suffered a heart attack while driving.
He died waiting for a transplant.
Scot was 16 years old. He was the last member of his family to see his father alive.
SCOT WAS PROFOUNDLY affected by his father`s fate and made sure to have his heart checked regularly throughout his own healthy playing career. In January 2021, his annual physical showed no cause for concern.
However, just one month later, Scot received a flu shot. Doctors now believe this injection may have somehow triggered a latent “genetic anomaly,” leading to the onset of heart failure.
“A couple of days later, I got the flu,” Scot recounted, “and it severely impacted my heart. I became so weak I couldn`t even walk across a room.”
“We may never know the exact cause,” Dr. Menachem stated, “but he clearly had a predisposition for a heart that wouldn`t function optimally throughout his entire life. The flu likely acted as a catalyst.”
What followed was a terrifying three-year period filled with endless appointments, treatments, and hospital stays, culminating in the stark realization that a heart transplant was his only hope for survival.
He was consumed by doubt that he would find a heart and guilt that he even deserved one.
Someone would have to die to give me life.
Scot felt he had already lived a full life: a fulfilling college basketball career, a commendable NBA career, a beloved family, and the pursuit of their dreams. Surely, he reasoned, there were others more deserving of this life-saving chance.
His wife, Dawn, while also wrestling with uncertainty, needed to challenge this self-sacrificing perspective. She reminded him of his vital responsibilities as a husband and father, and how much life they still had to share.
He listened, and eventually, he accepted.
“How could I even consider unintentionally putting my own children through what my dad`s death put me through?” Scot reflected.
“He didn`t want me to grow up without a dad there to teach me things,” Ozzy said. “And I truly love him for thinking about that.”
The next critical step was finding a heart large and strong enough to support his body.
“You can`t expect a Ford Festiva engine to perform well in an F-150,” Dr. Menachem explained metaphorically.
Unlike his father, who died waiting for a same-sized donor in 1991, Scot had a greater chance thanks to advancements in medical technology allowing for more variation in organ size.
On Scot`s 49th birthday, his sixth day in the Vanderbilt Intensive Care Unit, he received news of a potential donor. He called his family to the hospital and even shaved his head and beard in preparation for surgery.
But the medical team ultimately determined that prospective heart was not viable.
Another potential option arose soon after.
That one, too, was declined.
PAMELA ANGELL AND Megan Tyra sat together in a hospital in East Texas, facing the agonizing prospect of making the most devastating decision of their lives within the next 14 days.
Pamela`s husband, Casey, had been intubated, no longer able to breathe independently.
Casey and Pamela first met in 2009 while working at Walmart. Pamela described him as someone who could “talk a stranger`s ear off,” which he often did.
When Pamela became pregnant with their son, William, Casey took a new job as a forklift operator. However, exposure to harsh conditions on the job, combined with a history of smoking, had taken a severe toll on his health. In February 2024, a bout of pneumonia sent the 45-year-old to the hospital, where he slipped in and out of consciousness.
Days passed, then a week, and more. Casey showed no signs of improvement or awareness. On the eleventh day, Pamela and Megan, Casey`s sister, made the heart-wrenching decision to withdraw life support.
Shortly after, the hospital`s organ donation coordinator approached them.
“He said, `Look, guys, Casey had a really big heart,`” Megan recalled.
“Yeah, we know,” Megan`s husband, Clint, replied, thinking metaphorically.
“He said, `No, man, you don`t understand. He physically had a big heart,`” Megan clarified. “And I asked, `Is that important?` He said, `Oh yeah, that`s important.`”
Casey Angell was a solid 5-foot-11. While that size would not have been sufficient to save Pearl Pollard in 1991, medical progress in 2024 meant it was large enough to potentially save Scot.
Pamela and Megan agreed to the anonymous organ donation process and watched as Angell`s heart left the hospital.
“You`re losing your best friend,” Pamela shared, “but in a way, somebody else is gaining your best friend.”
On the morning of February 16, as Angell`s heart was transported from Texas to Tennessee, the Vanderbilt medical team prepared Scot for his transplant surgery.
Physicians carefully managed the myriad tubes and wires connecting him to equipment, rearranging them for the short transfer to the operating room.
Amid the steady rhythm of the heart monitor`s beeps, Scot began saying his goodbyes.
“Who`s my favorite fourth kid?” Scot asked, embracing his youngest child, Icean.
“Me?” Icean responded.
Scot leaned in close. “That`s right,” he affirmed, touching foreheads. “You.”
Then Dawn cradled her husband`s face in her hands and leaned over the bed to kiss him. “I love you,” she whispered, her eyes welling up. “I love you forever,” Scot replied, running his fingers through her long, dark hair. “I love you forever,” she told him again.
Scot was wheeled through the hospital corridors, with Dawn following as far as she was permitted. She squeezed his hand tightly before he passed through a set of double doors, beyond her reach.
“That`s when it truly hit me,” she later said. “I was thinking, `Okay, what if he doesn`t wake up?`”
“I started contemplating what life could possibly be like… without him.”
Just after 11 a.m., Scot was taken into the operating room.
At 1:08 p.m., a black SUV arrived at the hospital`s Adult Emergency Entrance. Doctors retrieved a white cooler from the trunk and hurried inside. Inside a smaller plastic container within the cooler was Casey Angell`s heart.
At 1:16 p.m., surgeons removed Scot`s failing heart from his chest.
“At that moment, there`s no heart in there,” explained Dr. Ashish Shah, one of the lead heart surgeons. “There`s a vast, empty space, and when the old heart came out, you see a visibly stressed, unhappy organ.”
Thirteen minutes later, his new heart was surgically connected, and blood flow was restored to it.
By 5 p.m., the complex procedure was complete.
“In many ways,” Dr. Shah reflected, “it was precisely the right heart for him.”
ON A MID-OCTOBER EVENING last year, Scot and Dawn stood on the sideline of the Carmel High School football field. It was senior night. As the sun dipped below the stands, they awaited the announcement of Ozzy`s name.
Ozzy couldn`t play, having had knee surgery just two weeks prior, but he walked across the field during the senior recognition, his father proudly by his side.
“It feels like I have my dad back the way he was when I was younger,” Ozzy shared.
Yet, the Pollards remain acutely aware that their relief and joy came at an immense cost to another family.
On the very day of Ozzy`s surgery, inside the hospital room, Scot checked his email. And there it was – the response he had so desperately hoped for.
As soon as Pamela received Scot`s letter, she called Megan, and together they decided to write back. They were eager to learn more about the man now living with Casey`s heart and to share stories about the man from whom it came.
Scot read the letter aloud.
Dear Scot, thank you so much for reaching out to us.
Scot, your kind words regarding your donor, who was loved beyond measure, truly warmed our hearts. February 16, 2024, was an incredibly difficult day for all of us who loved your donor, Casey.
When we knew we were going to have to let him go, and were approached about organ donation, there was never a moment of hesitation or doubt that Casey would have wanted to help others.
So, our answer was simple, and it was a yes.
Scot`s voice began to falter as he continued reading.
Casey was a loving husband, dad, uncle, and the best baby brother anyone could ask for. Even though he was the youngest, he physically towered over all of us.
Thank you for taking care of that big heart of his. We are profoundly grateful to know he is loved and will continue to give love through you. It means the world to us. His selflessness has already inspired people within his own family to register as donors and become heroes like him.
And we, his family, though small in number, would be deeply honored to meet you whenever you feel ready.
Megan added in her part of the letter that Angell was a “gentle giant” who always found happiness in helping those in need. “We feel blessed knowing that even in our greatest tragedy, we remained true to who he was,” she wrote, “and we are so thankful that because of our hero, you can continue to be a blessing to your family and countless others.”
The two families first connected by phone on November 9, what would have been Casey Angell`s 46th birthday. After exchanging text messages, they decided to meet in person.
On March 17, 2025, Scot and Dawn arrived in Lindale, Texas, a small town about 90 miles east of Dallas.
As they stepped out of their hotel room, Dawn gently took her husband`s hand.
“Ready?” she asked softly, smiling up at him. “Ready,” he responded.
Hand-in-hand, they walked down the hall towards the room where Angell`s family was waiting.
As they rounded the final corner, they saw the family through an open door. A moment of nervous anticipation broke into warm laughter as they exchanged hugs with Pamela, William, Megan, and Clint.
“Hi, gang,” Scot greeted them, before he and Dawn extended their arms for embraces.
Scot learned that William was just 12 when his father died and that he was “the love of [his father`s] life.”
“We are so grateful that Scot is here, living with Casey`s heart,” Pamela shared. “And William now has another person to look up to, a father figure in a way.”
William shared fond memories of fishing trips and watching horror movies with his dad, describing him as both gentle and a giant. He noted a unique connection: both Casey and Scot had dragon tattoos, representing William`s Japanese zodiac sign.
“I felt a connection there,” Scot said. “I understand what it`s like as a child to lose your father.”
“You look so much like your dad,” Dawn told William.
“We say he`s a `copy and pasted` version,” Megan replied with a smile.
Pamela showed Dawn and Scot Casey`s wedding ring, which she now wears on a chain, and recounted the story of how they met. Megan explained that while she and Casey had other siblings, their bond was particularly close.
“He was my bubba,” she said tenderly.
Before heading out for lunch together, Pamela produced a stethoscope she had brought.
Scot stood and unbuttoned his shirt. Pamela carefully placed the stethoscope against his chest.
As she listened to the steady beating heart within him, her eyes filled with tears.
Megan stepped forward next. “My turn,” she said softly.
She gently positioned the stethoscope just to the right of a long, vertical scar – a lasting reminder of what was given and what was lost.
With Scot looking down at her, she bowed her head and listened intently.
“Hey, Bubba,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
ON MEMORIAL DAY weekend, under clear blue skies, the Pollards, Angells, and Tyras rode through the streets of downtown Indianapolis, waving to an enthusiastic crowd.
One year after Scot`s transplant, he was honored as the grand marshal of the Indy 500 Festival Parade and extended an invitation to his heart donor`s family to ride with him on the float.
Only a few months had passed since their initial in-person meeting, but Megan shared that getting to know the Pollards has significantly helped her family navigate their grief and begin healing. Today, at 50, Scot is doing well, but his future is inherently uncertain.
He is the tallest heart transplant recipient in Vanderbilt Medical Center`s history, and doctors cannot definitively predict his long-term trajectory. However, any doubt that once plagued Scot before the surgery has now completely vanished.
“The opportunity to simply continue being a dad for as long as possible was entirely worth it,” he stated.
While Scot`s doctors are optimistic that the new heart will not be affected by the genetic disorder, they do believe his children may be at an increased risk of developing heart disease in the future.
But for now, Scot will be there to support them on their individual journeys. Ozzy, 17, is preparing to start his freshman year at Marian University, conveniently located just 30 minutes from home. Icean, 9, will enter fourth grade in the fall.
And in Texas, William, now 13, plans to play for the junior high football team, just like his father.
Fate brought the paths of the Pollards and the Angells together, each family, in their own unique way, helping the other to mend and find solace.
“Moving forward,” Scot said, “what we hope for is simply that I can continue living a good life because of their incredible gift.”
As Megan looked out at the cheering parade crowd, her thoughts were with Casey.
“It`s an honor to let everyone know how proud we are of him, the man he was, and how truly good he was,” she said of her brother. “We miss him every single day, but knowing Scot helps with that ache.”