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.
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]