Joel Berry is accustomed to getting second looks.He's the starting point guard for a national championship team at the University of North Carolina. He's on national television 30 or more times per year. His posts on social media are gobbled up by hundreds of thousands of followers.And yet, sometimes, even those with the widest reach can find that their smallest actions have a significant impact.That was Berry's experience this summer, when he went out for breakfast at a Chapel Hill establishment. It was a normal Saturday, just a quick meal with his girlfriend. As he ate, he noticed a couple of fellow diners eyeing him. But—and this is just a fact of his life, not meant to be arrogant—it's not unusual for Berry to get sideways glances when he's eating in public, especially in Chapel Hill."Ever since the national championship, all of our lives have changed," Berry says. "So many people come up to us and tell us we had an impact on their kids or on them personally. It's the greatest thing ever. I love hearing that from people."What he was about to hear, though, was a little different. Later that week, Berry checked his email and found a message from Carol Freedman, who turned out to be the restaurant patron who'd been eyeing him a few days earlier. Freedman had been eating with a close friend, Myra McVicker. They'd tried to get together a few weeks earlier, but plans fell through. That's how they ended up just across the aisle from Joel Berry.For Berry, it was just breakfast, but for McVicker and Freedman, it was much more. Their sons, who had met in fifth grade and instantly bonded over their shared passion for Carolina basketball, were best friends and longtime Tar Heel fans. As the years progressed, they texted during and after games, followed the team rabidly, and loathed all the same rivals.Rob McVicker had been a groomsman in Kyle Freedman's wedding. Rob moved to Oregon to pursue his dream of becoming a golf pro. In late February, he'd just been elevated to head pro at Old Macdonald in Bandon Dunes.Early in the morning of February 25, he left his girlfriend's house to—what else?—get home in time to watch what would be a 9 a.m. Pacific tipoff for Carolina at Pittsburgh. He recorded the games, of course, but he also wanted and needed to watch them in real time.He never made it home. His car hit a patch of ice on US Highway 101 and collided head-on with a car going the opposite direction. The travelers in the other car were not hurt. Rob McVicker, whose favorite Tar Heel had for years been Joel Berry, was killed at the age of 28.That's why Carol Freedman and Myra McVicker sat in their booth that May morning with tears trickling down their cheeks. Freedman ultimately sent Berry a heartfelt email. She relayed the story of the McVicker family and then explained why the two women had been so closely watching Berry. "Your presence that Saturday, that morning when we could have met anywhere, at any other day or time, reaffirms our belief that those loved ones who leave this Earth are still with us if we look and listen," she wrote. "In death, Rob let his mother know that his love for her is stronger than ever."The email deeply touched Berry, who wrote back that same day."This is by far the greatest email I have ever received," Berry wrote. "I got goosebumps reading this letter and had to share it with my mom and dad. When telling my mom, she cried with joy knowing her son had impacted someone in that way. Each morning, I always tell myself, 'Something good is going to happen today,' and as I read that email, I said to myself, 'This is more than something good. This is a life changer and I will always remember this.'"The point guard had become almost numb to the constant parade of autograph and selfie requests. It had been less than two months since his team won the national title, and interaction with the public had become a daily part of life.This one was different. The chance encounter had touched the heart of McVicker and Freedman, and Berry hadn't even realized it was happening. He'd connected with Rob McVicker from across the country by playing basketball, but it had turned into a lesson about much more than what happens on the court."As you grow up, your parents tell you that you're being watched with every step you take," Berry said. "You're always on that scope, and this was a reminder that it's so much bigger than what we do on the court. It's about the impact we have on people outside of basketball."