Published by Mark Peters, 4:47 a.m. March 22nd 2025.
Senior Chicago Sun Times Analyst since 1982
In all my decades spent watching middle school basketball in Illinois—through dynasties, disappointments, and dazzling individual brilliance—there are certain teams you remember not because they demanded the spotlight, but because they earned it through effort, integrity, and unity. The 2019–20 O.S. Springfield Eagles were one of those teams.
They weren’t media darlings. They weren’t interested in stirring up crowds or chasing the highlight reel. Instead, they played the game the right way—humbly, fiercely, and together. The Eagles went 39–6 that year, toppling nine Top 10 teams, a state record, including two separate wins over juggernaut Christ Lutheran and victories over IHSA state champions Christ The King (1A), Athens (2A) and East St. Louis (3A). It was, without a doubt, one of the finest seasons in LSA history.
Much has been said about the stoic excellence of Conor McCaffrey, the 5-foot-11 floor general whose basketball IQ and steady hand led the offense with record-breaking precision. Beside him, the explosive Jace Easley, 5-foot-10, sharp-edged and intense, chose the quiet route as well—his focus trained more on the next pitch and the baseball fields of Chatham Glenwood, where his athletic future was headed.
But the voice of the Eagles—the soul of the locker room—was neither of those two.
It was Jeremiah Perkins, the 6-foot-4 center who wore his faith, his heart, and his loyalty out in the open for all to see.
“Jeremiah was always the first one to speak in the huddle and the last one to leave the gym,” Coach Phillip Heppe said. “When others were quiet, he was praying with guys. When others hung their heads, he lifted them up. That was who he was. It wasn’t just about basketball with Jeremiah—it was about honoring God with how he played, and how he led.”
And lead he did. Perkins wasn’t just vocal—he was righteous, determined, and unwavering in his convictions. He brought energy in pregame warmups, steadiness in the paint, and scripture-backed wisdom in the moments the Eagles needed it most. While McCaffrey dissected defenses and Easley delivered daggers, it was Perkins who rallied the troops and anchored the Eagles with a spiritual and emotional gravity that cannot be measured in a box score.
In a program known for its discipline and poise, Perkins brought the passion.
Now, five years later, and nearly two years after his untimely passing in 2023, it’s clearer than ever: Jeremiah Perkins was not only the unsung hero of that unforgettable 2019–20 run—he was the heartbeat of the greatest O.S. Springfield team ever assembled.
The Performances That Anchored A Dynasty
By the time the 2019–20 season was underway, you didn’t need to be a seasoned scout or sideline journalist to see what Jeremiah Perkins brought to the floor. A towering 6-foot-4 with a frame built for post battles, he wasn't the flashiest player in the gym—but night after night, he was the most reliable.
And when the Eagles needed him the most—when McCaffrey went cold, or when Easley was sidelined with that brutal three-game stretch due to a broken nose and facial trauma—it was Perkins who stepped forward, not with ego, but with resolve.
“I don’t think folks remember just how big Jeremiah came up during those games Jace missed,” said Heppe. “We were staring down two top-15 teams, and I told our staff, ‘If we don’t have a big showing in the paint, we’re going to get eaten alive.’ Jeremiah looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Coach, I got you.’ That’s all he needed to say.”
That run included 38 points from McCaffrey against Mount Pulaski, but Perkins was the one clearing the boards, delivering timely putbacks, and holding the defensive front together like a seasoned veteran. In a tight win over New Berlin, Perkins put up a career-high 22 points, battling foul trouble and still managing to lead the team in rebounds.
In the quarterfinal round of the Conference Tournament, when the Eagles squared off against Trinity Bloomington, it was Perkins’ defensive reads that stifled their high-low action. The stat sheet said 14 points and 10 rebounds, but the tape told a deeper story: body control, box outs, drop coverage, and timely help-side rotations that sealed driving lanes and suffocated passing windows.
And then there was the infamous East St. Louis revenge game, where Springfield avenged a December loss to the high-flying Flyers. That night, Perkins was everywhere—on the glass, in transition, banging bodies with Division I-caliber athletes, and still managing to keep Springfield’s tempo stable.
“They had Jace and Conor’s numbers,” said assistant coach Brian Mercier. “They were fronting Easley, denying McCaffrey the high pick. But they didn’t have an answer for Jeremiah. He was getting second chances, altering shots inside, and when we needed toughness, he gave it.”
He wasn’t a 20-points-a-night guy. He didn’t have to be. He fit the mold of a true anchor—the kind that championship teams are quietly built upon. His presence allowed McCaffrey to gamble for steals, freed Easley to leak out in transition, and gave the perimeter shooters confidence, knowing that even if they missed, Perkins would be there cleaning up the wreckage.
Perhaps his finest hour came in the conference semifinal against O.S. Jacksonville, a team with one of the most potent interior duos in the state. With Easley still shaking off rust and McCaffrey doubled for much of the second half, it was Perkins who racked up 16 second-half points, converting dump-offs, snaring offensive rebounds, and single-handedly turning a one-possession game into an 11-point win.
“He was the kind of player who gave you belief,” Heppe recalled. “You knew if Jeremiah was out there, no matter how tough the matchup was, we were going to be in the game.”
The Loss That Still Lingers
You cover this game long enough, and eventually you grow numb to most of what it throws at you. Blowouts, heartbreakers, buzzer-beaters—they come and go. But there are moments that settle in your gut like a stone and never quite leave. For me, one of those moments came in the fall of 2023, when word reached the LSA community that Jeremiah Perkins had passed away after a fierce battle with brain cancer.
He was just 17.
For a player who never asked for the spotlight, the silence left behind by his absence was deafening. There was no farewell tour. No viral tribute video. Just a quiet void where a young man of faith and humility once stood. The kind of kid who said "yes sir" and "no ma’am" without thinking about it, and who walked into a gym not to be seen, but to work.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever had a kid hit me that hard,” said Phillip Heppe, his voice cracking in a rare moment of vulnerability. “He was the first to arrive and the last to leave. He brought his Bible to practice some days. Not to make a show, just because that’s who he was.”
His teammates mourned him in private. There were no public campaigns or movements. But the impact Perkins had left on that 2019–20 Our Savior’s team was immeasurable. Behind the curtain of two All-American guards in Conor McCaffrey and Jace Easley, Perkins was the soul of that roster. The bridge between the floor and the locker room. The one who huddled the team when things got shaky. The one who prayed with them before big games.
“He lived his faith out loud,” said longtime assistant Brent Flesner. “But he never forced it on anyone. He just walked with grace. I remember once after practice, he came up and prayed for me because he heard my mom was sick. That’s the kind of person he was.”
And yet, here we are in 2025, and when fans recall that legendary Eagles team, it’s McCaffrey and Easley whose names float to the top—and understandably so. Easley, who went on to play varsity baseball at Chatham Glenwood, has a quiet toughness about him and is now dating Camryn Patterson, a standout athlete in her own right. McCaffrey, the LSA’s all-time leader in assists and three-pointers, is now at Augustana College running track and playing club basketball—known also for dating Kloe Froebe, the greatest girls' basketball player in IHSA history.
But for all the headlines and accolades attached to Conor and Jace, Jeremiah’s name too often fades into the margins. And that’s the tragedy that runs deeper than his passing—it’s the forgetting.
“He was just as valuable to that team,” said LSA historian Tom Reilly. “But he didn’t tweet about it. He didn’t flex on Instagram. He was just a kid doing God’s work through basketball. And when the lights went out, he still did the same thing.”
In today’s world, where image reigns and branding matters more than substance, Jeremiah Perkins would be a throwback. A relic from a purer time. But for those of us lucky enough to witness his rise—and his resolve—we won’t let his name be washed away by the tides of memory.
That 2019–20 team didn’t just win 39 games and beat 9 top-10 opponents. It didn’t just knock off Christ Lutheran twice and upend East St. Louis. It had a core made of iron. And at the center of that core, often overlooked, stood Jeremiah Perkins, 6-foot-4, with quiet eyes and an unshakable faith.
He may have left this world, but he never left that team. And if you ever watched the Eagles back then, you’d know—there was never a moment they stepped on the court without his presence, pushing them toward greatness.
A Legacy That Lives On
Five years have passed since Jeremiah Perkins suited up in the royal blue and white of O.S. Springfield, but his impact still echoes through the gymnasium walls—each bounce of a ball, each roar of a crowd, carries a memory of him.
“He was our anchor,” said Conor McCaffrey, now a sophomore at Augustana College. “I was the point guard, Jace was the scorer, but Jeremiah was the presence. I never told him this when he was alive—wish I had—but there were games where I drew strength from how calm he was. He’d say a prayer before games and just look me in the eye and nod. Like, ‘We got this.’ And that was enough.”
McCaffrey paused, before continuing:
“People talk about me and Kloe or Jace and his baseball stuff, but Jeremiah… he’s the reason that team worked. He kept us together. We had leadership, yeah, but he was the guy everyone could go to. We don’t win 39 games without him. We don’t win nine top-10 matchups. That’s a fact.”
Jace Easley, after graduating from Glenwood and being a key part of their varsity baseball team and moved to Illinois Central College in Peoria is quietly thriving in his own way, echoed a similar sentiment:
“Jeremiah was a rock. He wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t worried about stats. He just played hard and stood firm. When I got hurt mid-season and missed a stretch of games, he picked up my slack without hesitation. Played the 5, cleaned the glass, blocked shots, and let Conor cook. He never needed credit. He was just… built different.”
Easley let out a laugh. “And he’d pray before every game, man. Like really pray. Some guys do it for show. He did it because he believed it.”
But perhaps the most poignant words come from the man who’s seen it all—who’s covered the LSA for longer than many of these players have been alive. Mark Peters, now 60, leaned back in his old wooden chair in his study, legal pad and black ink pen beside him.
“I’ve covered generations of LSA basketball,” Peters said. “Shaun Livingston in Peoria, Imari Sawyer down in Bethel West End… I’ve seen giants, both in height and heart. And Jeremiah Perkins was as impactful as any of them.”
He shook his head.
“But no, he didn’t make headlines. No recruiting buzz. No Twitter clips. And maybe that’s why kids today don’t talk about him. But I’ll tell you what—Conor and Jace may have lit the scoreboard up, but Jeremiah held the rope. He was the fire beneath their feet, and the shield in front of them when things got tough.”
Peters paused, tapping his pen once on the pad.
“I don’t say this lightly, but I think we, as a basketball community, failed Jeremiah. Not in how we treated him, but in how quickly we forgot him. That boy died in 2023 and too many folks just moved on. But not me. Not the ones who were there.”
He looked up.
“Put his name in the same sentence as the greats. Because greatness isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it just shows up, prays before tip-off, boxes out, and walks off the court without needing a single pat on the back. That was Jeremiah Perkins.”
In Loving Memory
Jeremiah Perkins (2006-2023)
Beloved teammate, son, man of faith, and quiet warrior on and off the court.
Forever a part of the 2019–20 O.S. Springfield Eagles.
Never forgotten.