For 19 years and change, I’ve been the father to a son. Two actually. In that time I’ve gone by a number of monikers, the latest of which has been fazsa (pronounced fáh-zsah). A number of other things have grown and evolved over that time, too: the distance I could carry either of my sons, for example, slowly dwindled from multiple laps around the MOA to, well, nowhere. Likewise, the degree of direct control I have over my sons has ebbed from a complete and total authoritarianism to an understanding of their own autonomy.
In short, I’ve come to know my place in my sons’ lives.
As they grew through elementary school and early adolescence, I took to involving myself in my boys’ activities. I coached their soccer teams for close to 10 years, occupied the bench during one’s early hockey career, and accompanied the other on a brief foray into scouting. Eventually, though, I came to let go.
In all of these activities, I eventually moved myself from the role of passenger to viewer.
As a sports parent, I went through a similar progression. Watching my boys play I would become immersed in their on-field success or failure. Yes, as much as I don’t like to admit it, I was one of “those parents.” Stats, playing time, and the presence of other players who could make my son look better took precedent over the simple celebration of our a father-son connection reflected in my sons’ involvement in activities that struck a chord with me. For sure, their individual accomplishments and success at times overshadowed the simple fact they were among teammates enjoying themselves and picking up valuable experience working with others to achieve a greater outcome for the sake of their team success. Tragically, more so than
Thankfully, I moved on. That, and the fact my sons each grew more dynamic than the hackneyed “boy as athlete or all-American scout” roles we tend to shape them into.
So, looking at that former self, that man as the product of vicarious living through a son, and seeing the contrasting fullness of a fazsa-son relationship outside of such a lifestyle, I feel compelled to weigh-in on the fathering debacle that is LaVar Ball.
IF the name if foreign, here’s a quick primer – LaVar Ball is the father of three exceptional basketball players. One is still of high school age (LaMelo), another attends UCLA on a basketball scholarship (LiAngelo), and the eldest, Lonzo, received a mention n a previous post. As is the case in many families, the eldest son is blazing a trail for his brothers to follow, with Lonzo now fulfilling a [family] dream of being a point guard for the Los Angeles Lakers of the National Basketball Association.
LaVr Ball could have allowed his sons to simply grow up playing basketball. He could’ve supported their dreams paying for camps and travel teams. He could’ve even assumed the role of “involved team parent.” He could have, of course, had he a shred of care and concern for his boys’ well being.
Instead, he hasn’t merely hitched a ride on his sons’ coattails, he’s jumped upon their backs, parasitically clinging to their jerseys, What should be their experiences he is turning into “look at me when you see them” events.
Sadly, since last winter it seems LaVar has been to NCAA and NBA news coverage what Donald Trump has been to Twitter. An ever-present, unfiltered annoyance.
Consider that in the first half of 2017, LaVar Ball said, among a number of additional outlandish remarks, these things about his 19 year-old son Lonzo, then only a freshman at UCLA:
- He would dominate the NBA more than he had the NCAA (here)
- He could replace NBA MVP Steph Curry and improve the Golden State Warriors. (here)
- He’d have greater marketing potential the NBA icon and legend Michael Jordan (here)
- An injury prevented his son from taking over for slower, less athletic white players in an NCAA tournament game (here)
- He would take the Lakers to the NBA playoffs in his rookie year (here)
All of this before his son was drafted by the Los Angeles Lakers, let alone played in an NBA game.
At what point do we let go of our kids’ accomplishments as something we did? It’s my experience that at some point you recognize you have nothing, nada, zip, to do with what your child is doing while they are doing it. Sure, you can claim the support you provided, but your involvement should stop there.
I’ve funded training and even coached abit herea nd there, but I am 100% certain I haven’t scored any of my sons’ goals, cleared the pole vault bar, or taken a single concert or portrait photo for for which they’ve been paid. Their accomplishments are their own.
But, maybe more important, when they were developing their skills, perfecting their talents, I didn’t make claims they’d be forced to make good on when they had to perform in earnest.
Who does that to their child? Who sets their own son up for abuse and struggle?
At some pint I recognized, and I hope Lavar Ball will to (and quickly!) a fazsa is a man who prepares his son to take on the ups in which they’ll revel AND the downs that will befall them as they grow into their adult selves. Moreover, a fazsa does this knowing damn well that what their son accomplishes belongs to them and them alone. No fazsa can claim their son’s success as their own.
And that’s the beef I have with LaVar Ball. He has turned his sons’ experiences into his own. He is making any success they have his success rather than simply watching with pride as the boys fulfill ambitions and goals. And perhaps worse, as I mentioned above, he’s subjecting his sons to abuse
When son Lonzo’s first NBA game finally tipped off last week, he was squared up against Los Angeles Clippers point guard Patrick Beverly, a man 10 years his senior. It was, literally a man versus boy encounter, and the man won (here).
An NBA team plays 80 regular season games, and this was just the first. Lonzo’s debut was not what his father had envisioned, nor was it what he had hoped either, I bet. A stat line of 29 minutes, 3 points, 1-6 shooting, and a mere 4 assists. isn’t what LaVar had crowed would occur night in and night out To Lonzo’s credit, he did grab 9 rebounds, a great number for a point guard. Nevertheless, it was not an impressive first game.
It was, however, an indication of what Lonzo will encounter. Will every game be one in which his opponent knocks him to the floor or calls him out afterward? Probably not. But, thanks to LaVar, there may be more rough outings than smooth as this ESPN article suggests.
No doubt, Lonzo Ball will be a good NBA player. Tine will tell if he becomes great.
In the meatnime, I just wish LaVar would make like a real fazsa and sit back and enjoy what his son accomplishes without getting in his way and making the path more difficult for him.
schlegsofminne 
A Fazsa’s Place is Among the Quiet
For 19 years and change, I’ve been the father to a son. Two actually. In that time I’ve gone by a number of monikers, the latest of which has been fazsa (pronounced fáh-zsah). A number of other things have grown and evolved over that time, too: the distance I could carry either of my sons, for example, slowly dwindled from multiple laps around the MOA to, well, nowhere. Likewise, the degree of direct control I have over my sons has ebbed from a complete and total authoritarianism to an understanding of their own autonomy.
In short, I’ve come to know my place in my sons’ lives.
As they grew through elementary school and early adolescence, I took to involving myself in my boys’ activities. I coached their soccer teams for close to 10 years, occupied the bench during one’s early hockey career, and accompanied the other on a brief foray into scouting. Eventually, though, I came to let go.
In all of these activities, I eventually moved myself from the role of passenger to viewer.
As a sports parent, I went through a similar progression. Watching my boys play I would become immersed in their on-field success or failure. Yes, as much as I don’t like to admit it, I was one of “those parents.” Stats, playing time, and the presence of other players who could make my son look better took precedent over the simple celebration of our a father-son connection reflected in my sons’ involvement in activities that struck a chord with me. For sure, their individual accomplishments and success at times overshadowed the simple fact they were among teammates enjoying themselves and picking up valuable experience working with others to achieve a greater outcome for the sake of their team success. Tragically, more so than
Thankfully, I moved on. That, and the fact my sons each grew more dynamic than the hackneyed “boy as athlete or all-American scout” roles we tend to shape them into.
So, looking at that former self, that man as the product of vicarious living through a son, and seeing the contrasting fullness of a fazsa-son relationship outside of such a lifestyle, I feel compelled to weigh-in on the fathering debacle that is LaVar Ball.
IF the name if foreign, here’s a quick primer – LaVar Ball is the father of three exceptional basketball players. One is still of high school age (LaMelo), another attends UCLA on a basketball scholarship (LiAngelo), and the eldest, Lonzo, received a mention n a previous post. As is the case in many families, the eldest son is blazing a trail for his brothers to follow, with Lonzo now fulfilling a [family] dream of being a point guard for the Los Angeles Lakers of the National Basketball Association.
LaVr Ball could have allowed his sons to simply grow up playing basketball. He could’ve supported their dreams paying for camps and travel teams. He could’ve even assumed the role of “involved team parent.” He could have, of course, had he a shred of care and concern for his boys’ well being.
Instead, he hasn’t merely hitched a ride on his sons’ coattails, he’s jumped upon their backs, parasitically clinging to their jerseys, What should be their experiences he is turning into “look at me when you see them” events.
Sadly, since last winter it seems LaVar has been to NCAA and NBA news coverage what Donald Trump has been to Twitter. An ever-present, unfiltered annoyance.
Consider that in the first half of 2017, LaVar Ball said, among a number of additional outlandish remarks, these things about his 19 year-old son Lonzo, then only a freshman at UCLA:
All of this before his son was drafted by the Los Angeles Lakers, let alone played in an NBA game.
At what point do we let go of our kids’ accomplishments as something we did? It’s my experience that at some point you recognize you have nothing, nada, zip, to do with what your child is doing while they are doing it. Sure, you can claim the support you provided, but your involvement should stop there.
I’ve funded training and even coached abit herea nd there, but I am 100% certain I haven’t scored any of my sons’ goals, cleared the pole vault bar, or taken a single concert or portrait photo for for which they’ve been paid. Their accomplishments are their own.
But, maybe more important, when they were developing their skills, perfecting their talents, I didn’t make claims they’d be forced to make good on when they had to perform in earnest.
Who does that to their child? Who sets their own son up for abuse and struggle?
At some pint I recognized, and I hope Lavar Ball will to (and quickly!) a fazsa is a man who prepares his son to take on the ups in which they’ll revel AND the downs that will befall them as they grow into their adult selves. Moreover, a fazsa does this knowing damn well that what their son accomplishes belongs to them and them alone. No fazsa can claim their son’s success as their own.
And that’s the beef I have with LaVar Ball. He has turned his sons’ experiences into his own. He is making any success they have his success rather than simply watching with pride as the boys fulfill ambitions and goals. And perhaps worse, as I mentioned above, he’s subjecting his sons to abuse
When son Lonzo’s first NBA game finally tipped off last week, he was squared up against Los Angeles Clippers point guard Patrick Beverly, a man 10 years his senior. It was, literally a man versus boy encounter, and the man won (here).
An NBA team plays 80 regular season games, and this was just the first. Lonzo’s debut was not what his father had envisioned, nor was it what he had hoped either, I bet. A stat line of 29 minutes, 3 points, 1-6 shooting, and a mere 4 assists. isn’t what LaVar had crowed would occur night in and night out To Lonzo’s credit, he did grab 9 rebounds, a great number for a point guard. Nevertheless, it was not an impressive first game.
It was, however, an indication of what Lonzo will encounter. Will every game be one in which his opponent knocks him to the floor or calls him out afterward? Probably not. But, thanks to LaVar, there may be more rough outings than smooth as this ESPN article suggests.
No doubt, Lonzo Ball will be a good NBA player. Tine will tell if he becomes great.
In the meatnime, I just wish LaVar would make like a real fazsa and sit back and enjoy what his son accomplishes without getting in his way and making the path more difficult for him.
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