I appreciated the results, of course, when Nate Robinson’s six-year old son decided to tackle his older teammates in practice. Like a miniature version of Rodney Harrison, Robinson’s son followed through on his hit, then gave a momentary glare at the destruction the hit left behind, a look that said “I just ruined your day”, or “my father will really enjoy it if I stare you down after I demoralize you in front of his 372,000 Twitter followers”, or maybe just “if Roger Goodell catches wind of these hits, I’m going to be suspended whenever I make the NFL.”
But Nate, Nate, Nate, you will never be accused of maturity. After the second big hit a hurt child laid on the ground, and meanwhile Nate laughed his ass off. I understand being proud of your son for laying the smack down. I get it. When — not if — my kid becomes the next sensational professional athlete, I’ll strut around like a peacock and tweet liberally about everything my son accomplishes. I’ll make Twitvids of my son’s windmill dunks, twitpics of him holding MVP trophies and 140-character-or-less messages like, “My son’s the greatest thing to happen to earth since the invention of basketball.” I will absolutely be an obnoxious parent. But laughing hysterically while a little kid lays on the ground, potentially injured and definitely full of shame, seems a bit much.
Full disclosure: I am only picking nits about Nate’s parenting methods because the NBA lockout gives me nothing to write about whatsoever. If I could write about Nate’s tendency to shoot 28-foot pull-up jumpers on 1-on-4 fast breaks, normally at a juncture of the game when his team can least afford to waste a possession, I would love to. Or I would love to discuss Nate’s attitude that resembles rays of sunshine, the way he cheers until his vocal cords can’t cheer anymore even when he gets zero playing time.
Instead, I’m stuck analyzing the way Nate watches his six-year old son play football. I am officially a casualty of the NBA lockout.
At least it’s an excuse to post Nate’s own football highlights.