Is LaVar Ball really that unusual?
Or is he “annoying sports parent” with the knob ripped off?
If you think about it, anyone who ever played sports as a kid, or whose kids played sports, knows this type — the parent who is convinced their child is going to be a star to the point where you start to get bemused/concerned/angry about the parent living through the kid.
When my brother played Little League, it was the father of a kid who didn’t seem to realize that being much smaller than everyone else and not throwing very hard was not going to be a ticket to the majors, even if he was left-handed. (I’m also left-handed, but neither me nor my father are delusional.)
For all but the Ball families of the world, the reality of not being good enough hits eventually. And it’s not just the parents. I heard through the grapevine that someone I played basketball with who thought he was pretty hot stuff while I sat on the bench learned about the other side of the street while sitting on the bench for a Division III college team.
Did I feel sympathy for him? No, I did not. He was a jerk.
The difference between the Balls and the rest of us isn’t even just that LaVar is louder and more brash than most of us could ever be (although, yes), but that Lonzo is good enough to cash the checks his father’s mouth is writing, at least so far.