It’s Okay to be Proud of Someone Else

Yesterday I enjoyed spending some time with a longtime friend who now plays in the National Basketball Association. My grandmother, “Nana” as we know and love her, called and told me my childhood friend was doing a shoe giveaway down in Watts and that I should pick up some things for my girls Varsity Basketball team. So I sacrificed a couple hours of sleep on a Saturday and hit the road before 7 a.m. to get down to Imperial and Central just off the 105 fwy. The line outside the gymnasium was short, as if word hadn’t spread the “Dre” was gonna be doing an event in the neighborhood. But that changed about two hours later as droves lined up outside of Verbum Dei High School with kids and strollers to sneak a peak of the pride of Nickerson Gardens and get some free gear. Of course there’s always a few people taking more than their share at a giveaway but all-in-all, it seemed like people were grateful for what they received and thanks to my friend’s mom, everything was organized and well executed.

Andre Miller and I are the same age, 33 and he’s now considered a veteran player that brings experience and court savvy to the younger team for which he now plays. It’s safe to say it’d been probably 10+ years since we’d seen one another in person. His career in the NBA has spanned 10 years and landed him on five teams despite the fact that every where he’s played he’s been a “court general” – an impact player who dictates tempo and brings structure to the offense. He plays point guard, one of the most difficult positions to master in all of sports with its demand for team management, physical conditioning and ball handling. Add to this the off-the-court strain from the pressures of being recognizable in public and Dre now appears to be a much stronger man than I remember from childhood. As kids there was baseball games in the street in front of my Nana’s house, Dodger games, arm wrestling and Hungry-Hungry Hippo on the living room floor. Come to think of it, our friendship even preceded Nintendo but fast forward to 2009 and it’s clear that neither of us are kids any longer.

Yesterday was one of those moments where you’re catchin’ up with an old friend, reminiscing about past people and events all the while processing the maturation of the person who stands before you. I’ve seen Andre on TV like everyone else, lightin’ up my Lakers. In fact, last season when he played for the Philadelphia 76ers, he beat my guys at the buzzer as his teammate Andre Iguodala hit a game winning three-pointer. Home is home I guess.

Yesterday I was simply proud of my friend and all I could think was, “I wonder if he’d like to get away for a a minute, a day, a week and just be Andre.” As we were standing in the gym of his Alma Mater, Verbum Dei high school located in Watts near the Nickerson Gardens housing projects, we joked about family and the OG’s in the gym with their green and white jumpsuits. We talked about his trade from Denver to Philly, which he was unaware of up until the day it occurred. I watched the predominantly African-American crowd wait in line for a couple of hours to get some free shoes and t-shirts and catch a glimpse of the hometown hero. It’s weird to be so proud of someone who grew up just like you, in the same inner-city with the same poverty and the same dreams. Every NBA player has a story but I guess it’s weird when you know that your own background is being represented on a world stage. Familiarity doesn’t always breed contempt. I guess you can be proud of a friend who does what you could not. Envy is always a choice and yesterday it was no where to be found. This year, I’ll be rooting for the Portland Trailblazers (when they’re not playing my Lakers).