If given the chance to live like you were dying, what would you do with your time? If you were told you had three to six weeks left on Earth, who would you spend your days with?
For beloved basketball coach and lifelong mentor Andy McLeod, these questions are no longer hypothetical.
McLeod, a Manning native, has spent his life dedicated to coaching and mentoring young athletes. His journey began early, fueled by a love for basketball and a work ethic that set him apart. From childhood games on the court to leading teams from the sidelines, he has never strayed far from the sport that shaped him. His career took him across South Carolina, where he built programs, mentored athletes, and formed lifelong friendships. His impact extends beyond wins and championships. His legacy is the players he guided, the friendships he built, and the lessons he instilled.
Now, McLeod faces the toughest opponent of his life. Diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma, he has made the decision to forgo aggressive chemotherapy and instead focus on living fully, surrounded by the people he loves. He refuses to be defined by illness or to let his final days be consumed by grief. Instead, he continues to do what he has always done: lead by example, show up for others, and embrace every moment with strength and humor.
This is the story of a coach, a mentor, a husband, a friend. A man who, even in the face of a terminal diagnosis, refuses to sit on the sidelines. A man who is choosing to live like he is dying.
Close friend and mentor Bill Brewer has known McLeod since childhood and saw his potential early.
“I could tell as a little boy Andy was going to be tall, but in the 12th grade, he was a grown man. He's about six feet, five inches and was as good as any player I had seen,” Brewer said. “When he was a little boy, he was so little. But he wanted to be a basketball player, and let me tell you, he worked like the devil to be a player.”
McLeod played football and basketball at Laurence Manning Academy (LMA), excelling on state championship teams in both sports. He continued his basketball career at Newberry College, where he played for three years before shifting his focus to academics. After graduating in 1993 with a degree in history, McLeod returned to LMA to begin his coaching career at just 21 years old.
“I stayed two years but kind of felt that I would always be seen as the former student. I felt the need to establish myself as a coach,” McLeod said.
He moved on to Williamsburg Academy, where he coached for six years, ultimately serving as athletic director and varsity football coach before settling into his passion: basketball.
“My years at Williamsburg are so memorable. It helped me establish my coaching and teaching careers,” McLeod said. “I became ‘Coach Andy’ and not a former champ or student. I met so many good friends through coaching, and we are still friends to this day, 30 years later. It’s been an amazing journey.”
McLeod continued his coaching career at Hudgens Academy until it closed, prompting his return to LMA. He later spent eight years at Holly Hill Academy, all the while making an impact on the lives of young athletes.
More than anything, McLeod’s life has been defined by deep friendships, strong family ties, and unwavering loyalty. He has spent the past few days back in Manning, surrounded by the people who have shaped his life.
“If anything happens, if things go south, I want to be in Manning. This is where my family is,” he said.
McLeod has found comfort in reconnecting with old friends and reliving memories.
“It’s been wonderful sitting around telling old stories,” he said. “[My friends and I] haven’t talked about the diagnosis, we haven’t talked about the disease. We’ve just talked and caught back up. A lot of them, I haven’t seen in so long. I know they care. They are worried, they are praying about it, but it’s not something we discuss when they visit. We just talk.”
To his closest friends, he is more than a coach or a mentor. He is family.
“He is my brother, he is my best friend,” said fellow coach and lifelong friend Will Epps. “When I was in seventh and eighth grade, I would be watching Andy play basketball. I looked up to him, he was who I wanted to be. I even wanted to wear his number when I played. After college, we just became best friends. He is the most loyal friend I have ever had. In life, if you are lucky enough to have one true friend, you are truly lucky. He is my one true friend.”
Epps recalled a moment from their youth that solidified their bond.
“He’s a competitor and the most brilliant coach, as smart as any coach I’ve met. He is someone I have always held in high regard in life,” Epps said. “I remember one Thanksgiving when I was 21 years old. I wrecked a soybean truck, spilling soybeans everywhere. Andy was the friend that left his Thanksgiving dinner to come help me literally pick soybeans up out of the road.”
Childhood friend Ron Lee remembers the McLeod home as a second home for him.
“I’m pretty sure Mr. Pete and Ms. Susie took extra jobs to keep us fed with mini pizzas, ice cream cups, and drinks,” Lee said. “We spent hours on end playing what Andy referred to as ‘option boption’ on the trampoline. This was where Mark Sexton and myself got crushed by Andy as he tackled the ball carrier. Of course, Andy supplied the crowd noise to his big hits as well. I’m not sure how no bones got broken. Maybe there were and we just weren’t told.”
McLeod’s friendships have always been built on laughter, shared memories, and unwavering support, but his most cherished relationship is with his wife, Mary.
“We actually went to church together at Emmanuel Baptist as children,” McLeod said. “In 2007, we were set up by friends. We had both been married and divorced, and she had two children. It was in God’s ultimate plan.”
McLeod embraced his role as a stepfather to Brooke and Buddy and later became a grandfather to Mailee Kate.
“Mary is the best thing I have done in my life,” McLeod said. “I’ve lived a life so many people would have loved to have lived.”
In 2017, McLeod underwent surgery after being diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma.
“I was diagnosed [with] renal cell carcinoma, kidney cancer. I could go back further, but I really don’t want to. The surgery in 2017 was simple,” McLeod said.
Mary interjected.
“Well, he says that, but they removed his entire right kidney. Then the cancer returned in August of 2023.”
In December 2024, McLeod underwent surgery to remove remaining cancerous growths that immunotherapy had failed to eliminate. A follow-up scan in January 2025 revealed another strain of cancer.
“They couldn’t seem to give me an answer to what could cure this, if anything,” McLeod said. “They told me we could try chemotherapy, but it would take the harshest chemotherapy available. At first, I was gung-ho. OK, let’s do this, I’m a fighter.”
After weeks of research and reflection, McLeod made a decision.
“I just decided I don’t want to live the rest of my life sick and my family to see me sick,” he said. “I want to live out whatever life I have left in my way, in God’s way, however He wants me to live it. I don’t want to be sick, suffering and my loved ones to see me suffering.”
McLeod recalled witnessing his father’s suffering with cancer.
“I was unfortunate enough to see my father suffer through cancer at the end. He did not recognize or know anybody the last few days of his life, and I don’t want that,” he said. “I don’t want my family to go through that. I know how hard it is on the family.”
Still, McLeod refuses to let his diagnosis define his final days.
“Life’s too short, and mine’s getting shorter, to just feel sorry for yourself,” McLeod said. “My family, my friends, would be so disappointed if that’s what I did. They wouldn’t accept it. So, this is how I’ll live with whatever time I have left. My oncologist is a super good man, but we don’t know. Only the Ultimate Physician knows how much time I truly have left.”
McLeod is determined to continue living on his own terms.
“I’m not naive enough to think [the doctors] are 100 percent. I know they’re not wrong, I’ve got less time than what I’ve had, but I’m not going to give up and feel sorry for myself,” he said. “I’m going to talk with people, visit with people, laugh with people. When Jimmy Valvano, head coach of basketball at NC State, was dying, he said, ‘Think every day, laugh every day, cry every day, and if you do that, you’re living a good life.’ That is what I am living by.”
As he repeated Valvano’s words, McLeod’s eyes welled up with tears. This was Coach Andy’s cry for the day.
Since 2017, McLeod has worked as the athletic director and sports coordinator for the City of Laurens Parks and Recreation Department.
“We were very fortunate that he kind of fell into our lap,” Parks and Recreation Director Jason Pridgen said. “One of the things that was really intriguing about Andy is, and I knew from his experience, that I could leave him in charge of every event that I had. He was wonderful at managing what he had to do.”
Despite his illness, the city has continued to provide McLeod with a salary.
“We trusted him for so long to take care of our program,” Pridgen said. “It’s the least we could do.”
Even now, McLeod’s mind remains on the program and the young athletes he has dedicated his life to mentoring.
“Yesterday, we talked like we always do, and Andy wanted to know how our Little League sign-ups were going,” Pridgen said. “He wanted to know if we had a good turnout, who was coaching, and how the kids were looking. Then, of course, he asked about the [basketball] All-Stars. Who made the team, who’s coaching, how they’re doing. He’s in the fight of his life and he’s still thinking about those kids. That tells you everything you need to know about the kind of man he is.”
Pridgen recalled a meeting he attended just that morning.
“When I went to our All-Stars meeting and told them about Andy’s situation, they couldn’t believe it,” he said. “He’s been going to these meetings himself for the past seven years, building relationships, making sure our kids had every opportunity to succeed. Nobody even knew what he was going through because he never made it about himself.”
Even as he faces his toughest opponent yet, McLeod’s heart remains with the game and the players who have meant so much to him.
Reflecting on his diagnosis, McLeod remains at peace.
“Mary asked me if I was scared after the diagnosis, and I said no, absolutely not. I’m not afraid to die. I’m afraid of what I’m leaving behind,” he said. “My family will be fine, my friends are going to be fine. This doesn’t mean I want to leave them, but I’m not scared of dying.”
Mary smiled as she recalled a moment that brought laughter into their home.
“Andy has always done the grocery shopping and the cooking. I never had to worry about any of that. When he couldn’t do it anymore, I was trying to cook one night, and the kitchen got smokey,” she said. “I remember Andy laughing and saying, ‘The Lord’s not gonna let me die because you will starve.’”
With whatever time he has left, McLeod remains grateful.
“It’s been just a wonderful life.”
