I love my father but honestly if my dad had a slither of the confidence in me that LaVar Ball has in his sons, I probably would have been a serviceable backup guard in Turkey or China right now. Instead, when I’d come home with an uninspired 8 points on 3-11 shooting, my dad would look at me like I just told him I wanted to pursue a degree in Art History. Say what you want about LaVar’s hard-headed attitude, but the man breeds winners. Not many fathers in America could make a top prospect out of a youngest son who looks like what would happen if Sonic the Hedgehog and Gumby fucked.
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Also, I’d like to thank LaVar for being living proof that you can lose weight after 30 years old. I went on a run last month and my man boobs still wobble around when I hit a divot on the road. How much effort does looking average take?
[h/t The Big Lead]