One of my earliest memories is of lying on my stomach on my parents’ bed and watching Wilt Chamberlain playing for the Lakers on a black and white tv.
I remember Magic Johnson’s first game. When they won at the buzzer, he jumped into the arms of a shocked Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.
I lived and died for hoops in the 1980’s. Every moment I wasn’t playing I was watching Lakers games. I loved Magic, Big Game James Worthy (my favorite player,) and Kareem. It seemed like I spent the entire decade on the edge of my seat, cheering (most of the time) and crying when they’d lose. 5 championships in 10 years were a hell of a lot of fun.
I remember, when the Lakers traded Vlade Divac for the rights to the then 17-year-old Kobe, and I celebrated like crazy when he and Shaquille O’Neal won championships. And I was down when they’d lose. I remember going through a particularly bad break-up then, and watching every game helped get me through.
After moving to Sacramento, I went “home” for a visit and caught a game against the Kings. I cried for the entire game. I was 100% confused and ashamed and hid my tears.
My son KD (age 12) and I have tons of special “things.” But if there’s one, it’s the Lakers. He has a Kobe jersey on his wall. We check scores first thing in the morning. Now that the Lakers are good again, we watch as many games as possible. It’s the best.
Last Sunday, I was coaching his basketball team when we got the news that Kobe and one of his daughters died in a helicopter crash.
And beyond feeling shocked, I felt…nothing. And this surprised me…Because the entire sports world seemingly was in tears. And I wasn’t.
Immediately, the self-judgment started. Maybe I’m just not a very emotional guy. Maybe I’m in too much pain from my crippling back injury to feel anything. Maybe I’d feel differently if I still lived in LA. Maybe I’ve put pro sports more into perspective. I LOVE the games, but I see the players for what they are: overpaid but highly skilled men playing an entertaining game, and not much more. Maybe my reaction is blunted because of the sexual abuse allegations (conveniently settled out of court) years ago. (I should feel angry about this.) But for whatever reasons, I feel…nothing.
But I’ve put all these maybe’s aside and focused on KD. Some of his earliest memories are of us watching games. One of his favorite memories is of going to a game with Grandpa when we visited LA. We watch games. We check Lakers scores first thing. Like I said, it’s our “thing.” Since seemingly the remainder of the sports world is shocked and in grief, it makes logical sense that he would be too. I’m worried that my lack of an emotional reaction is somehow robbing him of appropriate modeling. Maybe I “should” be different.
Captain Mommy (my wife) works early mornings, so this is one of “the guys’” main hang-out times. I jumped into the conversation by asking him how he feels about Kobe’s death. He immediately reminded me I’ve asked him three times. Damn, I thought it would be a good way to open the conversation and help him talk about his feelings without having to comment on my lack of feelings.
Without a clear plan of what I wanted to say, I dove into the mess of talking about how I’m not feeling much about his death. I thought I should be modeling differently how to feel. After an extended monologue, his response was that he doesn’t think I’m doing anything wrong with showing him how to feel. He thinks I show him all the time how it’s ok to feel things. After all, I’m a therapist who works with kids. Damn my kid is cool!
Now that he’s off to school, I’m checking myself on something else. It’s still my job to model behavior for him: be kind to people, be honest, be generous, and other stuff. But it’s not my job to tell my kid how to feel or not feel about Kobe. He’s 12 and he’s learning how to separate from Captain Mommy and me. His thoughts, feelings and behaviors are his, and it isn’t my job to try to tell him how to feel. I don’t know much about how he feels, but he’ll figure it out for himself. And in the meantime, we’ll root like crazy for our Lakers.
Fortunately, my wife is my biggest cheerleader, and earlier this morning I told her about the guilt I’m feeling. She let me know she thinks I’m doing a great job. She reminded me that a couple of years back I cried when the Dodgers lost to the Astros and I’m not now. I guess I’m doing an ok job of showing him the different ways to respond to grief.
Sometimes I muddle through, just trying to be the best dad I can for my son. Because that’s what dads do.