In a world where athletes are often defined by stat lines, draft projections, and highlight reels, Collin Chandler stands out—not simply because of his basketball skills, but because of the maturity and clarity with which he approaches life. A rising star with undeniable talent on the hardwood, Chandler has long been pegged as one of the most promising guards of his generation. But for Chandler, the game is no longer his whole identity. It’s only part of the story. The other part—arguably the more important one—revolves around the love, balance, and grounding he’s found through his marriage to Hannah, and how that relationship has helped him discover joy in a life that extends well beyond the court.
At just 21 years old, Chandler’s resume already reads like that of a seasoned veteran. A former four-star recruit out of Farmington High School in Utah, he chose BYU over offers from national powerhouses because of a vision that included not just basketball success, but personal and spiritual growth. Known for his smooth shot, court vision, and relentless work ethic, Chandler was always seen as a player with the potential to go pro. But as he matured—first through his two-year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and then through the experiences that followed—he began to understand that the greatest victories wouldn’t necessarily come with a buzzer-beater or a standing ovation.
The moment Chandler met Hannah, something shifted. What began as a friendship blossomed into something deeper and more meaningful. And while many college athletes shy away from early marriage, fearful it might distract from their careers, Chandler embraced it. To him, committing to Hannah was not a diversion—it was an anchor. Their shared values, mutual support, and open communication became a stabilizing force in a world that can often be unstable and overwhelming for young athletes under the spotlight.
Marriage changed Chandler in ways even he didn’t fully expect. Where once he may have ridden the emotional rollercoaster of wins and losses, he began to find emotional consistency. Where the pressure of performance could once cloud his happiness, now there was a calmness, a quiet strength that came from knowing he was loved and supported no matter what happened on the court. Hannah reminded him that he wasn’t defined by a box score. He was defined by the kind of man he was becoming—loyal, grounded, and grateful.
In post-game interviews and casual conversations, Chandler’s tone has become more reflective. He talks about balance, faith, gratitude, and relationships as often as he discusses minutes and matchups. He’s still deeply competitive and committed to being the best player he can be, but he’s also more aware than ever of the fleeting nature of athletic fame. For Chandler, the question isn’t just how many points he scores. It’s how he treats people. How he carries himself. How he nurtures his marriage. And how he uses the platform basketball gives him to lift others up.
Hannah has been more than just a supportive partner. She’s become a teammate in every sense of the word. Whether she’s encouraging him after a tough game, helping him manage the pressures of school and sport, or simply being a calm presence during chaotic moments, her influence is unmistakable. Friends and coaches say they’ve seen Chandler become more empathetic, more composed, and more focused since their marriage. He speaks with more intentionality, listens with more patience, and plays with a kind of joy that feels rooted in something deeper than just the thrill of competition.
This groundedness has also helped Chandler handle the inevitable challenges that come with college athletics. From battling injuries to navigating lineup changes and coaching expectations, he’s faced moments that could have shaken his confidence. But with Hannah by his side, he’s developed a new perspective. Challenges are no longer threats—they’re opportunities to grow, not just as a player, but as a person. He’s no longer afraid of falling short, because he knows his worth isn’t tied to performance.
It’s a mindset that many older professionals spend years trying to develop. Chandler has found it in large part because of his faith and his relationship. Together, he and Hannah have built a life that’s rich in purpose. They volunteer, attend church, and host small gatherings for friends and teammates. Their home has become a space of peace and laughter, a welcome reprieve from the pressure cooker that is college athletics. It’s no coincidence that Chandler’s game has matured alongside his personal life. When an athlete feels secure off the court, it shows up on the court. And Chandler is living proof of that.
There’s also a humility about Chandler that’s rare in today’s sports culture. He doesn’t see marriage as some sacrifice that has limited his social life or distracted from his goals. Instead, he sees it as an expansion of joy and responsibility. Rather than shrinking his world, it’s made it bigger. He trains just as hard, studies just as diligently, and plays with just as much fire—but now he does it all with a deeper sense of purpose. Every sprint, every lift, every late-night film session is done not just for himself, but for the family he’s building.
And it’s that family that keeps him from getting too high after a win or too low after a loss. After all, the same arms that hug him after a 20-point game hug him the same way after a rough night. That kind of unconditional support is transformative. In a world where athletes are often surrounded by conditional relationships—ones that depend on success or attention—Hannah offers something different. She offers consistency, and that has given Chandler the freedom to just be himself.
