My son loves basketball. One of my first memories as a father was holding him during the '08 NBA Finals, even though I was not happy watching the Celtics win, I was very happy to be holding such a perfect baby. That kept me from throwing things, or swearing like a drunken sailor, things I typically would've done. Ever since he could hold a mini ball in his ginormous little hands he's had to have a basketball (if you saw his hands I swear that would make sense, they're huge, but he's still a little kid so they're chubby little kid huge.) His first word was basketball. I'm not even joking, "ba-ket-ball." I was in heaven, I would make him say it like 15 times a day. His second word for the record was "mom," and his 4,375th word was "dad." The kid has his priorities straight I guess. One of my favorite memories was a couple of weeks ago when the little man decided he wanted to be like daddy and just "chill and watch some basketball," as he told me. I felt guilty having the game on when it was supposed to be quality play time, and I asked him to go play with me. He pulled the blanket up by his chin and said, "dad, I just want to watch the game." It was a Friday night ESPN game, Lakers/Knicks, and my first taste of what it will be like to have an adult son. I loved it. I loved the cuddling he allowed me even more. I love my son. Anyways, he's been playing basketball on his little hoops since he could sit up. He loves to take me into his room and shoot hoops with me. Maddox usually starts off by saying, "K dad, I'm the red Lakers." He knows who we cheer for at home, and he combines it with his favorite color. I can be whomever I want (although he usually suggests that I be green, his hatred for the Celtics was passed down with the other genes from me, hopefully there wasn't enough room for the huge eyebrow gene but only time will tell.) As we play in his room he works on his trash talk, and his defense. Both have progressively gotten better in the last few months. He's learned that if I have the ball too high for him to reach as I shoot, he better have a hand in my face, or dad is automatic. He usually tells me, "my hand in yo face!!!" as he defends my shot. If he is lucky enough to get a hand on the ball, or steal the ball he'll let me know, "block yo shot dad!!!" If he buries a shot on me with my hand in his face he'll laugh and say one of the following, "money in da bank!," "All day!," or "nothin but net!" Even if he misses his shot he will usually say one of those. I guess we need to work on that. I put this picture of Kobe in this post because I was so happy to see Kobe wearing a red uniform, for Maddox's sake, there were 2 'Red Lakers' playing Sunday, and it made me smile just thinking of him. My little red Laker is the best though. God willing I can enjoy years of watching him play basketball, whether it be out in the yard, or wherever, and can see the joy it brings him. I won't expect him to play in the NBA or even college, because likely just as he'll get my big eyebrows, he'll also get my 6 inch vertical and my towering 5'10" frame. But basketball will hopefully be something that we both love, and something that will always bring us together.
