Community Health & Wellness Sports
Inspired by wife’s example, he helped save a Husky legend’s life
Shane Cleveland was in the stands at Husky Stadium, making the trip from Bremerton alongside his daughters, for the University of Washington’s spring football game, when he saw a video appear on the jumbotron.
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Over a montage of basketball and football highlights, he and the rest of the University of Washington faithful learned the devastating news: UW great Nate Robinson — a Seattle native and Rainier Beach alum who went on to have a decade-long career in the NBA — was sick. He needed a kidney donor.
Cleveland wasn’t looking to be a donor. But as the video played, a “difficult-to-explain” feeling washed over him. He didn’t know Robinson, not personally anyway. But the avid Husky fan felt drawn to help.
“Anytime we’re able to make connections like that and help others, it’s about being ready to have those opportunities,” he said. “We never know when those are going to come up. This one just came up and felt right.”
The Cleveland family, left to right, Kara, Elise, 15, Shane, Alex, 12, Ainslee, 17, and Nelle, 10, at their home in East Bremerton on Monday, July 14, 2025. Photo by Meegan M. Reid/Kitsap Sun
He scanned a QR code on the screen and applied – alongside thousands of others – to be Robinson’s donor.
A fateful spring game
As chronicled by ESPN, Robinson became aware his kidneys were not functioning properly in 2006, then in his second season after being drafted 21st overall by the New York Knicks. Doctors told him he would eventually need a transplant. His career went mostly without incident. The point guard played for eight NBA teams and won three slam dunk contests before retiring from professional basketball in 2017.
By 2021, his kidneys started to fail and he had to go on dialysis treatments.
Robinson was reluctant to go public, ESPN reported. But as his situation became more dire, friends convinced him to speak about his prognosis. Tank Johnson, Robinson’s former UW football teammate, got his blessing to spread the word, narrating the video that Cleveland saw at the Huskies spring football game.
Although the pair had never met, Cleveland felt some connection to Robinson through their ties to University of Washington, a community he has been entrenched in since childhood.
Growing up in Bremerton, he started going to UW football games alongside his dad, an alum and 50-year season ticket holder. It is a tradition he carries on with his own daughters.
Today, Cleveland rarely misses a game. At times he wishes he “didn’t care so much.” His four daughters — Ainslee, Elise, Alex and Nelle — ages 10 to 18, all laugh when he says he “tries not to let it consume my life.”
Even if he hadn’t known of Robinson or his accolades, though, anyone looking for a kidney donor would have caught his attention. His wife Kara, a math teacher at Olympic High School, donated a kidney 14 years earlier, an experience he describes as a huge part of their family story
An email and luck
Kara did not have any relationship with Cherina Gapp, who was a Montessori teacher at the school her niece and nephew attended. Then, sitting at school one day, an email arrived in her inbox.
Gapp, an only child with a family history of kidney problems, was a 23-year-old UW student studying early childhood education when doctors told her that her kidneys were functioning at 40%. She dropped out of school, moved back home and called her aunt, who had donated her kidney to her sister, Gapp’s mom.
Her aunt drafted an email explaining the situation and asking her circle if anyone might be willing to be a donor. The whole process was nerve-wracking, Gapp said.
“It’s not easy to have to ask people for things, especially things that you cannot possibly repay,” she said. “To be honest I went through a lot of guilt.”
Gapp’s co-worker, unbeknownst to her, passed it along to Kara’s brother. He in turn sent it to Kara, who had heard nothing but positive things about Gapp.
“They just loved her. My brother always talked about how much I looked like her and we would be great friends,” Kara said. “He sent me an email saying, ‘I have the wrong blood type, maybe you can help.’”
Questions answered
Kara had the right blood type, but was curious about the lasting effects. She had two young daughters at home and she wanted to have more children. She searched online if she could still have a baby afterward. What she found reassured her. Long-term health risks associated with donating a kidney are generally very small, according to the National Kidney Foundation, and research has shown donation does not decrease life expectancy.
At that point Kara was compelled, Cleveland said. He played devil’s advocate, questioning if it was the right thing to do. “Overwhelmingly,” he said, “the answer was yes.”
Gapp was shocked. People regularly spend years on the waitlist for a donor. Nearly 90,000 Americans were on the donation list as of September 2024, according to the Health Resources & Services Administration. Many have to undergo intensive dialysis treatments, a process to remove excess waste and floods from the blood in lieu of a functioning kidney, to stay alive.
Who, she wondered, was this young mother willing to go into surgery for a stranger? Gapp felt guilt. She knew the donor was giving her a gift she wouldn’t be able to repay. Kara put her at ease.
They met for the first time at a coffee shop. Kara was “gregarious and spunky,” Gapp said, and threw her arms around her immediately. They hit it off and continued talking throughout the process. Gapp met Kara’s kids and her parents before the surgery.
On the day of the transplant, Kara came with custom t-shirts for both of them that had plus-1 and minus-1 spelled out next to a graphic of a kidney.
“She made me feel very worthy from the beginning,” Gapp said.
Since the surgery, the two have remained close. Gapp became the godparent for Kara’s third daughter, Alex, now 14. And Gapp, now healthy, had her first child earlier this year, a daughter named Berkley. She plans to name Kara and Cleveland her godparents.
Kara had not been looking to be a donor, but the opportunity felt right.
“It was an email and luck,” she said. “It’s been 14 years now and I don’t think we’ve gone more than a month without talking since then.”
‘You’re family now’
Relationships like that are atypical for donors. Cleveland, after he was approved as a match for Robinson in November, was unsure if they would ever meet. He decided to go through with the transplant, content to leave that decision up to Robinson.
The two did cross paths before the surgery. First, he saw Robinson in the waiting room for a pre-op appointment the week of the surgery. He saw him again the morning of the transplant, on Feb. 7, standing in line with Kara as they waited in line for a blood draw. They didn’t speak, but Cleveland said he looked nervous.
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After they went into surgery, Kara got a call that things were looking great. She decided to walk over and introduce himself to the group of Robinson’s family that were there. Her daughter, Elise, had made him a coffee mug as a gift. Kara approached, explaining who she was and asking if they would give him the gift once he woke up.
“Instantly they were crying and covering me in hugs. There were seven or eight family members so I was bombarded with love,” she said. “We made a scene, I was trying to sneak in and out and not disrupt the waitroom and everyone is crying and hugging me and like ‘go grab your stuff you’re sitting with us. You’re family now.’”
Lifelong bond
When Cleveland woke up from surgery, he said Robinson’s mom, Renee Busch, was there to greet him.
“The first thing she said was ‘you’re my son now too,” he said. “She’s made that a reality.”
Cleveland and Robinson met for the first time after the surgery. Now, almost six months post-surgery, they still speak regularly.
The Clevelands watched Robinson’s son, Nyale, play in the state championship basketball game for Rainier Beach High School. The families also celebrated the Fourth of July together on Oyster Bay. Robinson has also included an illustration of him and Cleveland in their scrubs on the side of his new signature shoe.
Cleveland says he has appreciated the attention — “My family will tell you I let it go to my head,” he jokes — but hopes both his and Kara’s story encourage more people to make the difficult decision to ask for help and be vulnerable knowing someone will be ready to help.
“Nate asked for help. Cherina asked for help,” he said. “There are people — not just us, it’s not something unique about us — I was ready for the opportunity to offer help when it was asked for, but I think a lot of people were. There’s people out there ready to help.”