Freshman orientation with Jordyn Schweyen

It was the rare moment, heartwarming and tender and full of meaning, which occurred in 2018 that wasn't captured by someone's phone and distributed to the masses via social media. And it's fitting that it wasn't.

"In walks this tall, beautiful woman, and I was like, is that ...?" recalls Joslyn Tinkle, who was in Missoula last summer for a wedding and stopped by the Lady Griz offices to catch up with friend and Montana assistant coach Jordan Sullivan.

Tinkle, a member of one of Missoula's most famous families, still the case even years after they left town for opportunities elsewhere, long ago had the job of babysitting the three daughters of Brian and Shannon Schweyen, themselves a Missoula family of some renown.

On that day last summer, Jordyn Schweyen and Tinkle, who hadn't seen one another in years, bumped into each other, and there was a split second when both had flashbacks and a flood of memories, and both had to come up with an answer to: Is that ...?

Indeed it was, and the embrace they shared, in private, one no one else will ever see or be able to comment on or judge or like or troll, spanned more than a decade, nearly two.

Beyond their shared experiences from so many years ago, when they were merely kids, theirs has been a common journey ever since, of being raised in the spotlight, of having assumptions made about them based on their lineage, of expectations of what they should be and what they should become.

So often in the public eye, this moment was just theirs.

Sure, there are perks to being the son or daughter of Wayne and Lisa Tinkle, just as there are for the daughters of the Schweyens. But it's brought years of scrutiny as well, more so than most youth in Missoula will ever know. It's the price of local celebrity.

Tinkle, who played at Stanford, then professionally in the WNBA, Hungary, Turkey and Australia before settling two years ago into a sales and marketing position at Southern Glazer's Wine and Spirits in Portland, escaped the fishbowl long ago and now lives a life of relative anonymity.

Or as much as can be expected considering her dad is the coach and her brother a standout player at Oregon State, 90 minutes down I-5 from Portland in Corvallis.

"I still get interviewed now and again, but now it's more about my siblings or my parents. I'm washed up," she jokes.

But Schweyen, nine years behind her former babysitter in age but the first of her siblings to go through the Tinkle experience, is right in the middle of it. She not only had the name and starred at a local high school. Now she's in her first year playing at Montana, where her mom is the head coach.

"We have that conversation with all of our daughters, on a continual basis, and have had since they were old enough to understand," says Brian Schweyen, track and field coach at Montana.

"You're going to be held to a higher standard because of who your parents are. People are going to look at you in a different light. There are going to be a lot of eyes on you and a lot of people are going to be judging you. You'll be under a microscope more than any of your friends."

All three Tinkle children played or are playing college basketball. Joslyn at Stanford, Elle at Gonzaga and now Tres at Oregon State.

The Schweyens have gone 2 for 2, with Jordyn in her first year at Montana. Shelby, who signed a National Letter of Intent last month to join her sister on the Lady Griz, will arrive next season. As for Sheridan, only time will tell.

The easy assumption to make is that all six kids have been pushed -- forced -- into the sport all four parents played collegiately, with Brian putting an end to a basketball career at MSU Northern after one year to pursue track and field at Montana State.

That five of the first six children of the two families have not just chosen basketball as their ultimate sport of choice but stuck with it, retaining a healthy love for it even as it grew more and more serious and more and more consuming, reveals how successful the approaches of the two sets of parents were.

"Basketball probably came almost later for our girls," says Brian. "We introduced them to a lot of sports and outdoor activities."

There was hiking, shooting bows and learning how to safely handle and shoot a gun. All three Schweyens even gave the violin a go.

"Never was it, Hey, you're going to do these sports," he adds. "We introduced a lot of different things, and it was always their choice. Sports have always been a part of their lives, but it was never demanded."

Like the Schweyens, the Tinkle children played every sport out there. Or at least gave it a try. Wayne Tinkle probably still gets chilled to the bone when he recalls cold, spring mornings on the sidelines of another windswept soccer field.

"They kind of settled into basketball on their own," he said this week from Corvallis, where his fifth Oregon State team is off to a 6-2 start. "We kept it fun, so they weren't turned off by it. I think that's why there hasn't been any burnout and why they kept making strides and improving.

"I've seen it, where parents turn their kids off on a sport."

They all began, at least in their own eyes, as just normal kids leading normal lives. But one day, for each of them, there came the realization that, hey, my parents are kind of a big deal, a point when they became more than just mom and dad.

Shannon Schweyen was a Kodak All-American as a player for the Lady Griz. Lisa (McLeod) Tinkle is three spots behind her on the Montana career scoring list, at 1,470 points, and was the Big Sky Conference MVP as a senior in 1988-89.

Brian Schweyen was an all-American in the jumps at Montana State. Wayne Tinkle played for Montana and after a lengthy professional career overseas, rejoined the program as an assistant coach before elevating to the top spot. He had enough success with the Grizzlies that it landed him in the Pac-12.

"It was when I was in the third or fourth grade and my dad was on staff at Montana that I remember thinking, Hey, this is cool, people know my dad!" says Joslyn. "And then seeing their pictures in the (Hall of Champions), that was probably when it sunk in."

It was probably even before Wayne and Lisa announced to the world that they were expecting their first child that people looked at their marriage union and came to the same conclusion: Oh boy, just imagine how good their kids will be at basketball.

It's just human nature and something all the parents were aware of, especially as they all settled into lives in Missoula, where their histories led to people projecting the future.

"A lot of people expected (our daughters) to be good, but I didn't," says Brian, who used the private time, in the car, driving the girls to school, as his chance to plant a seed, then care for it on a daily basis as they grew up.

"I didn't require excellence at anything. All I required was hard work and dedication to whatever they chose to participate in, whether that was sports or any other activity."

It nearly mirrored the approach taken by the Tinkles.

"The two things we always told our kids: Did you play as hard as you could and did you have a great attitude?" says Wayne. "We stressed those two things, because those are what are controllable, no matter the sport, no matter who you're playing with, no matter how the game is going."

But the safe bet was always basketball. It was just in the blood of both families.

"I saw my parents were great athletes and got to do some pretty cool things because of it, and I wanted that for myself," says Joslyn, who was born in Sweden, during one of the 10 years her dad was playing in Europe.

She would accept the chance to play and be educated at Stanford and was a four-year Cardinal and part of teams that went 137-10 and three times advanced to the Final Four. She is one of 40 Stanford players to reach 1,000 career points.

"Don't get me wrong, our parents were extremely hard on us, but it was always in a loving, motivating way because they saw the potential we had," she adds. "More than anything, they molded us into being ambitious."

Jordyn Schweyen still vividly remembers those rides to school with her dad, who did some of his best parenting when he was behind the wheel.

"He always wanted to know what we were looking forward to, what we were excited about, what were we most interested in," she says.

"That's how we started our days off and it really got us thinking. Not just for the day ahead but for our future and what we wanted to do."

People will remember her for a pair of volleyball state titles at Sentinel High and two near misses in basketball, but it was soccer that Jordyn used to break into sports. She would play it for more than a decade, until she had to choose between it and volleyball once she got to high school.

She still claims that the most fun she's ever had playing a sport has been on the volleyball court, but that basketball is her favorite sport.

She was on a traveling team by the second grade. Not far, mostly within Missoula, maybe over to Helena on occasion.

Everyone expected her to stand out on the local level, which she did. It was the summer before seventh grade when she had her own ah-ha moment, when she recognized for the first time that maybe she was a player.

"We were playing in Oregon and I was playing with girls who were two or three years older than I was," says Jordyn. "I went in and hit three threes right in a row. It was the first time I thought, Hey, maybe I can play with these girls."

A lot of people projected when it came to the Tinkles, in particular that Joslyn and Elle would follow in their mom's footsteps and play for Robin Selvig at Montana.

But Stanford was Stanford, and Elle, always one who knew what she wanted beyond college, chose Gonzaga not only for the basketball but because of the school's nursing program. It's what she's doing today, living in Portland and working across the Columbia in Vancouver, Wash.

So it was never a guarantee that Jordyn would remain in Missoula and play for the Lady Griz, even when her mom was elevated to head coach in the summer of 2016, after 24 years as an assistant.

"She'd try to talk to me about the recruiting process, but I was stubborn," says Jordyn. "I wouldn't say much. I think she was worried, because she had no idea what was going through my head.

"When I did commit, I think it was a big surprise to her."

And now mother and daughter are on a new journey, and Joslyn needs to step into the background of this story, because at this point it's her brother with whom Jordyn can most relate.

Tres Tinkle graduated from Missoula's Hellgate High in the spring of 2015 and then joined the Beavers, a freshman on his dad's second Oregon State team.

On the surface, a dream scenario. Dad! Son! Not just family but now teammates! And in the Pac-12! But that first season? It was rough. On everybody.

Son wanted to come in and respectfully fit into the team as a freshman, even more so because his dad happened to be the head coach, but the Beavers needed him to be more. And dad needed to be the one to get it out of him.

But it was a struggle to find the right balance. Oh, was it a struggle. Too often he erred on the harsh end of the criticism but, in an effort not to appear to be favoring his son, rarely approached the far end of the praise.

"I knew I had to treat him like the rest of the players and not look past any mistakes and come down on him if he wasn't doing things the right way," says Wayne.

"Where I had to learn and grow was if I was going to criticize him when he was making mistakes, I couldn't hold back the praise when he was doing things the right way, and that's what I was doing.

"I would muffle my praise so it wasn't looking like I was showing favoritism. He'd see me chest-bumping and hugging guys when they did big things, but I'd hold back when he made those same plays."

The Tinkles weren't the first to go through it, so Wayne sought out counsel from a friend in the coaching profession: Greg McDermott, who coached his son Doug at Creighton.

"He started laughing," says Wayne. "He said they went through the same thing. He said the big thing is you have to give him an outlet. For them it was mother. It's become the same thing here. Lisa has become the person Tres can vent to.

"He made a good point. If (Tres) isn't playing for you, he's probably venting to you about his coach. You have to allow him to vent to someone. We got through that. It's been a tough process, but the last year and a half have been great. We've come a long way. I feel like we've come out the other end."

The Tinkles' first season together, in 2015-16, resulted in Oregon State's first NCAA Tournament appearance since 1990.

Tres missed the final 26 games of the 2016-17 season with a broken wrist. The Beavers had an 11-win improvement last winter and are off to a 6-2 start this season, with Tres leading the team in scoring, rebounding and assists.

After a rough beginning, the fruits of those hardships now are being enjoyed. They have this season together, father and son, coach and player, then one last go of that relationship next year.

"Maybe a son joins his dad at his insurance company or legal or medical practice, but to be able to go through the battles we do together at this level, the highs and the lows, the laughter and tears, the bond Tres and I have wouldn't be the same if we didn't have this experience," says Wayne.

"I appreciate the heck out it. We're just trying to enjoy every day we have, because once you're done, you're done and that opportunity will be gone. That's what we've vowed to do."

Jordyn Schweyen is just a few months and seven games into her career playing for her mom on the Lady Griz.

She knew what she was getting into, thanks to Tres and his former coach at Hellgate, Eric Hays, who was also an outlet that first year when things were getting tough in Corvallis.

"Eric told me how he'd talk with (Tres) on the phone for hours at a time, how it was great being coached by his dad but how there would be times he wouldn't want to talk to him for two weeks," she says.

"It's going to be a learning process, but it's already helped our relationship a lot. There are going to be hard times but also times that are rewarding, and it's all going to be worth it."

It's not only been a shared journey by Joslyn and Jordyn. They share the same perspective of what it's been like to be raised a Tinkle and Schweyen.

What they've learned is that it's not about being who their parents were. It's about recognizing what's been put into getting them to this point, not simply as athletes but as people who contribute positively to society once those balls bounce for the final time.

"I'm 27 and I still get that in the back of my head. Is this something that would reflect well on my parents?" Joslyn asks. "We just want to make our parents proud, no matter how old we get."

And Jordyn won't ever be an all-American like her mom, and that's fine with her. It was never the goal anyway, even if it was an expectation of yours. "The pressure I feel is of wanting to make them proud," she says, "not living up to what they were."

Both have done so, in spades. It's the bond they share, Joslyn and Jordyn, as their families' oldest, enjoyed in embrace last summer, connecting them forever.

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