Music and basketball find an intersection with Bon Iver frontman Justin Vernon

Justin Vernon drives an hour and 40 minutes from his home in Eau Claire to Target Center. A devoted Lynx fan for years, the Bon Iver frontman finds the excursions a bit inconvenient, but well worth it.

He was there last Sunday, bringing his friends and collaborators, Toronto-based artists Daniel Caesar and Mustafa Ahmed, to sit with him courtside as the Lynx played host to the Atlanta Dream.

“The only arenas I was in the last 15 years was when I was playing,” he said. “To come into [Target Center] and see all the love, and see how diverse it is, and see how everyone comes together to get behind this team — it’s so simple, it’s so true. ... It’s absolutely been therapy to me.”

Vernon reflected on that moment the following night, standing alongside Lynx President of Business Operations Carley Knox. The tattooed indie folk star who has collaborated with the likes of Taylor Swift and the blazer-clad businesswoman are opposites on paper. But both find purpose and joy in basketball and music.

This alignment underpins their new partnership.

The “2 A Billion” campaign includes a pledge of $250,000 in grants from Vernon to 10 local nonprofits focused on gender equity, youth empowerment and domestic violence prevention. The partnership launched Monday night with a “Music Meets Basketball” clinic at Mayo Clinic Square, where Vernon joined Lynx guard Natisha Hiedeman and Pro Basketball Hall of Famer Seimone Augustus for a conversation and skills session with girls from She Rock She Rock, a local music nonprofit.

For Vernon, music and basketball always have been intertwined.

Even now with the Lynx, he doesn’t have to.

“Watching the Lynx play is like watching the John Coltrane Quartet play,” Vernon said. “The teamwork, the balance — the instantaneous balance — that they strike on the court has just always been that way.”

Vernon’s first WNBA jersey didn’t read “Augustus” or “Moore” on the back. It said “McCarville.”

While at Wisconsin-Eau Claire, he bought a Janel McCarville jersey and followed the fellow Wisconsinite’s career from No. 1 draft pick to her stint with the Lynx. Along the way, he became a fan of stars like Lindsay Whalen and Maya Moore Irons and, years later, Vernon started attending games regularly with trainer and friend Jeff Rogers.

Basketball has long been Vernon’s outlet. He and his friends play pickup two to three times a week. It’s how he quiets his mind.

Vernon finally released Bon Iver’s first album in six years, “Sable, Fable,” in April but won’t tour to promote it. He would rather not be doing press for it, either. Using his platform has never felt natural.

“Until this,” Vernon said Monday, standing on the Lynx practice court “because this is inspiring. This feels important.”

Monday night, on the third floor of the Courts at Mayo Clinic Square, parents and young girls from She Rock She Rock lined up around the front desk to check in. The girls were handed T-shirts and ushered into an auditorium adjacent to the practice courts. There, they were greeted by Vernon, Knox, Augustus and Hiedeman. About two dozen girls filled in the front row seats — rocking back and forth, twirling their hair and trying their best to focus — as Knox opened a 30-minute panel and Q&A session.

At the onset, Knox asked the girls if they knew Bon Iver. About half of the hands shot up. Vernon chuckled. “Alriiight,” he said, drawing some laughs.

It’s not just the charitable cause that moves Vernon — it’s interactions like this. Vernon told the Minnesota Star Tribune that, while he loves meeting his fans, he gets tired of not having to earn people’s trust and build relationships from scratch.

“We don’t live in gated communities,” said Augustus, who starred for the Lynx from 2006 to ’19. “We don’t have the luxuries of some NBA, NFL players. We go to the grocery store just like you do. So we are provided those luxuries, and we have to be able to coexist with the citizens of the world and be able to make this world a better place as well. And so what better way to do that than to use our platforms?”

The last question for the panel came from a soft voice in the back: “Do you ever get nervous?”

Vernon, Augustus and Hiedeman paused, then nodded in near unison.

“You have to pace around a lot,” Vernon said. “Anything you can do to calm your mind. We listen to the same music before we go onstage, just do about 10,000 steps down the hallway. And you breathe.”

Hiedeman chimed in, “What Justin said, just breathe.”

The panel meandered, paused and laughed its way through stories about nerves, inspiration and creative expression. Augustus spoke about being introduced to poetry by an English teacher who encouraged her to write. Hiedeman estimated she had 100 unfinished songs.

After the Q&A, Vernon and Hiedeman joined the girls and Lynx staff in a variety of drills — some more structured, others silly. One exercise had the participants dribble to the half-court line, put their ball on the hardwood and then, with all eyes on them, bust out their silliest dance moves. Vernon got in on the action, too, joining in on shooting drills and offering high-fives to as many of the young hoopers as he could.

Later, as the girls and parents trickled out of the gym, Vernon stood just off court, a phone pressed to his right ear. It was Hiedeman’s phone.

Vernon cupped his hand around the speaker like a shell, trying to catch every beat and lyric of Hiedeman’s mixtape. He swayed gently, head bobbing in time. Hiedeman, standing nearby sipping her blue Gatorade, kept glancing over. Not nervously, exactly, but with the quiet anticipation of someone watching their music being received in real time. She chatted with Vernon as he tapped the screen, likely queuing up another track, bouncing subtly in place.

Moments later, Vernon turned to a scrum of reporters and grinned. He said he needed to make some more beats for Hiedeman. He and Hiedeman separately hinted at making music together in the future — maybe jokingly, maybe seriously.