After Breaking Records at Duke, a Maine Town Honors Its Star with a Statue and Other Honors, Marking Cooper’s Immortalization
In the heart of Maine, where the ocean meets the pines and small towns cling to tradition as fiercely as they do hope, one of their own has transcended the hardwood and etched his name into the soul of the sport. Cooper Flagg, the homegrown phenom who shattered records at Duke and captivated the college basketball world with his passion, drive, and talent, has now been immortalized in the place where his journey first began.
Newport, Maine—population just shy of 3,000—is not the kind of town that finds itself in the national spotlight often. But on this day, streets were lined with cheering families, “FLAGG WAY” banners rippling in the breeze, and a palpable sense of pride thick in the air. They weren’t just celebrating a basketball player. They were celebrating their basketball player—the boy who played on cracked asphalt courts behind Nokomis Regional High School, who took the bus to practice even in the snow, who waved to every neighbor, and who never stopped dreaming. Now, with a towering bronze statue unveiled in the town square and statewide honors flooding in, the people of Newport have ensured that Cooper’s legacy will remain as eternal as the legends carved in stone.
It’s rare for someone to be considered legendary before they’re even old enough to rent a car, but Cooper’s trajectory has always felt different. From the moment he stepped onto the court for Duke, it was clear this was no ordinary freshman. His court vision, defensive anticipation, and scoring ability made him not just the best player on the court—but the best in the nation. The accolades poured in: ACC Player of the Year, National Defensive Player of the Year, and, ultimately, the John R. Wooden Award, marking him as college basketball’s finest.
Still, despite the bright lights and roaring crowds of Cameron Indoor Stadium, he never forgot where he came from. In every interview, he spoke of Maine. In every win, he pointed back to his roots. In a world where athletes often move fast and forget faster, Cooper held Newport close—and they never let him go either.
“Every time I turned on the TV, there he was,” said Linda Bennett, a retired teacher who once had Cooper in her third-grade class. “But even with all the fame, he always made time to come back. He never got too big for this town. That’s what makes him special.”
The statue, standing over nine feet tall, captures Cooper mid-jump, arm extended, about to slam down one of his signature dunks. Commissioned by a coalition of local leaders, private donors, and former teammates, the project took nearly a year to complete and involved extensive collaboration with sculptors to get every detail—from his Duke jersey to his trademark focused gaze—just right.
Mayor Jonathan Marks called it “a symbol of perseverance, humility, and greatness. This statue isn’t just for Cooper. It’s for every kid who’s ever shot hoops in their driveway thinking, ‘Maybe one day, that could be me.’”
But the statue was only the beginning. The same day it was unveiled, Governor Elaine Walsh proclaimed it “Cooper Flagg Day” across the state of Maine. Flagg also received the inaugural Pine Tree Legacy Award, an honor reserved for individuals who have brought significant positive attention to the state. At his former high school, the gymnasium was renamed “The Cooper Flagg Arena,” with a state-of-the-art training center funded in part by donations made in Cooper’s name.
Perhaps most touching, though, was the presentation of a framed jersey from his middle school days—No. 32, faded and worn, but held together with the same dreams that carried him to the top.
As the celebrations wore on, a familiar face stepped to the microphone. It was twin brother Ace, who has always been Cooper’s closest friend and fiercest competitor. “People see the records. They see the awards. But I see the kid who used to cry when we lost in driveway one-on-one,” Ace joked, his voice thick with emotion. “This town didn’t just raise an athlete—it raised a brother, a son, a fighter. We’ll always be proud of you, Coop.”
Cooper, usually reserved, stepped up to speak with his typical humility. “This statue… this day… this moment—it’s not just about me. It’s about all of us. I wouldn’t be here without my family, my coaches, my teammates, and this town. You gave me my start. You believed in me when I was just a kid with a dream and a basketball. Everything I do, I do with Newport in my heart.”
His words echoed through the crowd, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. Tears flowed freely—some from elderly neighbors who remembered him chasing the school bus, others from young kids clutching Duke posters, hoping to follow in his footsteps.
National sports media descended on the event, some calling it “the greatest hometown celebration since LeBron returned to Akron.” But there was something different about this one—something uniquely Maine. There were no red carpets or entourages. Just families in flannel, a local brass band playing covers of Duke fight songs, and a town that had never let go of the boy they raised.
And while Cooper has made no public announcement about the NBA just yet, his future is all but certain. He’s projected to go first overall in the draft, with scouts comparing his defensive prowess to Scottie Pippen and his all-around game to Kevin Durant. But here in Newport, none of that matters as much as the person he’s become.
“He showed kids around here that it’s possible,” said Marcus Foley, a junior at Nokomis who plays on the varsity team. “He made us believe. He’s one of us—and he always will be.”
Even Newport’s local businesses got in on the action. The Corner Café launched a “Flagg Slam Breakfast”—a stack of Maine blueberry pancakes topped with whipped cream in the shape of a basketball. Down the street, a mural now spans the side of the hardware store, depicting Cooper as both a young boy and a Duke legend, reaching across time to touch his younger self on the shoulder. The caption reads: “Always Believe.”
This outpouring of love is not just because Cooper was great on the court—it’s because he remained grounded off of it. He’s held free basketball clinics for kids during summers back home. He donated part of his NIL earnings to local schools. And after winning the Wooden Award, the first call he made was to his former AAU coach back in Maine, just to say thank you.
There’s a reverence in the way people speak his name—not just as an athlete, but as a symbol of what’s possible when hard work, talent, and community come together. For the people of Maine, Cooper Flagg is not just a basketball player. He’s a son of the soil, a reminder of what they can produce when they nurture a dream.
Years from now, long after he’s added NBA accolades to his resume and perhaps championship rings to his fingers, that statue will still stand. Tourists will come and snap photos. Kids will touch the base, hoping some of that magic rubs off. Locals will point with pride and say, “I remember when…”
And Cooper Flagg, wherever his journey takes him next, will carry this moment forever. Because for all the points he scored, for all the games he won, this—this honor from the place that shaped him—is something no box score can ever capture.
Immortality doesn’t always come from trophies or fame. Sometimes, it comes from a statue in the middle of a small town square, where the dreams of one became the pride of many. In Newport, Maine, Cooper Flagg has become more than a legend.
He has become eternal.