There he was-
Spinning around in my wife’s uterus as though he owned the place. He wasn’t just shifting around aimlessly as we watched him. No, He was giving us a little attitude, I could tell. Probably due to the invasive “crotch shot” we had just taken like a paparazzi does on the red carpet when a celeb trips in her dress.
As the ultrasound tech continued to harass him with her insistent prodding to get the best angle for further screen shots, he stubbornly fought back with an amazing sense of entitlement, like a badass, no apologies, no explanation. And I was in awe. His elbow was going to go right there where he wanted, and he was going to kick his way until he could stretch his legs to his own liking, and we would all just have to deal.
I wondered, at first in my own head, but then aloud rhetorically to my wife and lab tech, “It makes you wonder what they mentally process in there when they are awake.”
Granted, he was just turning 18 weeks or so, Chelsea and I guesstimated, due to his conception in Mexico in a shoddy hotel room with not much to offer but our own love and affection, but I could just imagine the many things this obviously brilliant superbaby was thinking about:
“I love this placenta!”
“I am already addicted to protein powder now, thanks to my mom.”
“This fiscal cliff/sequester is some bullshit.”
“If you look close enough and squint your eyes just so, you can see Jesus’ face over there in the lining of my mother’s uterine wall.”
“I am so glad my parents aren’t going to raise me with any silly dogma and inherited guilt.”
At least that last part I hope is correct.
As I sat there, doing my best to not choke up, all I could feel was gratitude. For the first time in years, I felt innocence. I felt awe and wonder. I felt unlimited possibilities. I felt alive again. In a way, I felt immortal. I knew then in that moment why kings celebrated the birth of their firstborn son as I now had my own heir to carry me and my legacy on through the next hundred years, well beyond my death. Before this moment, life seemed so finite, so fatalistic. But now, even when I die, I will continue to live on.
This is immortality.
More so than the excitement of all the things this baby and I were going to do together, (his mother, I guess, is welcome to tag along from time to time) like playing sports, talking history and philosophy, traveling to many exotic places through my basketball career and so on, was the excitement of how I have the chance to give my kid a head start through my own actions and attitude. Not so much my words, but through my thoughts. Kids aren’t stupid. They don’t need us to speak to them. They see right through us. They know who is confident, they know who is weak and timid, they know who is selfish, who is self-absorbed or insecure. Before their brains become molded to rely on words, body language is how they see and observe the world around them.
When my son “sees” me for the first time, I can only hope that he sees confidence without arrogance, integrity without haughtiness, kindness without martyrdom, humility without pride, introspection without self-absorption.
It is impossible for us to NOT inherit our parent’s thought patterns. Kids with low self-esteem, tend to get their inverted, critical self-analysis from their parents. Kids constantly seeking praise, tend to come from parents who need it as well. Anxious and insecure kids, tend to come from anxious and insecure parents who try to control everything. Assholes, come from assholes. And gay people come from straight people, sorry, social conservatives.
Knowing this truth and responsibility is scary when you are about to have your first child.
This question, for me, will be the greatest challenge of parenthood: What am I going to pass on to my child, not only genetically, but more importantly, mentally and emotionally?
What is the legacy that I will leave him and my posterity? What relationship will I have with each of my children? And what will my children value most: Money, Time, Validation from others or Relationships?
Today, is March 13 as I write this journal entry, the day after seeing the ultrasound, and I only just now realized today is the five year anniversary of my call-up to Cleveland.
Five years ago, to the same exact date. March 13th.
Five years. Seems like a lifetime ago.
These last five years have been so full of transition, so much so that I hardly recognize the voice that wrote LONGSHOT. I tried reading it a few months ago, and I really felt as though I didn’t know that person. I can only hope that these last five years, will allow me to prepare my son, the best I know how, for this world, as I teach him to stand and walk with his head held high, always assured in his self-worth.
Five years ago, I received happiness, a fleeting one, dependent on the will of others, the validation of others with my first NBA contract. And like all happiness that is dependent on another, it didn’t last. And today, five years later, seeing my son, a little Lance, for the first time has brought me greater peace and joy than any NBA contract could ever hope to bring me.
And I am grateful.
As a wedding gift to my wife, I promised her I would begin playing the guitar. I was always singing to her anyways.
Three months after buying my first fifty-dollar guitar here in Mexico, I found myself alone in my hotel room too often as the wife has been back home in Utah for the last while. I began to feel the need to write again, as I have not for sometime. But this time the need was pacified through music, which was a whole different challenge. After two weeks, I recorded enough songs to what I would consider to be an album, entitled, "Mexico.", I have released the first single, The Black Sea, now available at cdbaby.com, and soon to be on spotify, itunes and amazon. The album is soon to follow. Thank you all for your support and for helping to spread the word and the music video through youtube.
You can buy the single here: The Black Sea
The only grandpa I ever knew, the one who invested in me, the fisherman himself who helped make my dream of a home in Montana become a reality, passed away tonight on Christmas Eve, 2012. I didn't think I would miss him so much. I thought I had said my goodbyes, as he slowly left this life, choosing to leave at his own pace. Thank you grandpa, for the time you gave to me, and all of us. Thank you for the legacy you left us: to always question authority and our own reality. I wish you so much peace, as well to the rest of my Mosier family this holiday. I will see you in that flicker of light along the river as I cast my line, knowing you are there too waiting for a fish to rise.
July 1st, 2012
I am grateful for the partner I have found, who has chosen to move with me past the "in-love" phase and into the realm of "real love."
Can I get some "real love" up in the piece, CB?
In the midst of a nail-biting dream, in which I leapt from the exploding helicopter, the antagonist caught me in the free fall and began to choke me... and it all suddenly felt very real. A little too real. I began to panic. I couldn't breathe. Turns out, I was actually choking on my own phlegm. As I came back to consciousness I remembered that I was still in the middle of the this week long battle with bronchitis. It is a yearly affliction, one that I inherited from my father, along with other genetic fallacies and thought patterns, but most importantly, my strikingly alarming rugged looks.
I sat up in my bed, and something was different this time from all the 30 earlier birthdays- my fiance was standing in the kitchen cooking me oatmeal. (Yes, oatmeal makes me happy.) Had I not already had a lump (of mucus) in my throat, I would have gotten another one, as I was just full of gratitude. A beautiful woman, who loves me, despite my sickly state, sacrificing so much of her life, her goals and ambitions, just to be here with me in Japan.
It has been a good season. I love Kyoto. I love playing with good people. I love being paid time and being treated like a professional from the front office and staff. I love working people who are true to their word. And once again, for the first time in a long time, I love playing basketball.
I couldn't ask for anything more... Well, the only thing missing, is my dog. But he knows I love him and miss him every day.
Without a doubt: Best Birthday Ever.
My former teammate at Weber, Brad Barton died yesterday, from what is believed to be a diabetic seizure. He was currently head coach at Eastern Utah after leading them to a 23-7 record last year as an interim coach. Brad was one of my all-time favorite teammates, and I only got to play with him during my redshirt year at Weber. I had always wished I could have had an actual season to play alongside of him. I have always said that to this day, if I was in charge of putting together a pro basketball team, Brad Barton would have been my first pick. No one played harder, nor smarter than Brad Barton. By far the most intelligent teammate I have ever had, who understood every little thing about basketball. As well, he was the only man I that I have met, that have never been able to beat in a game of chess.
But more than that, he was the hardest working player I ever saw. It was inspiring.
Simply put, he was the most beautiful basketball player I have ever seen.
Before every game, his senior year, he and I would recite Dylan Thomas' "Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." It seems more fitting now than it ever has been. Whatever gods may be, took him far too soon. I will miss my friend.
The sequel to the critically acclaimed memoir, Longshot, Lance Allred returns with, Basketball Gods: The Transformation of the Enlightened Jock, where his story left off in 2008, sharing his time and experiences in the NBA as well as dealing with a major publisher for his first book, while life continues to take him around the world through the game of basketball, challenging his dreams and reality at every turn. Much to his disillusionment, he discovers that reality seldom lives up to our fantasies, especially in these hard financial times that have been felt by everyone, even professional athletes.
Basketball Gods is a book about acceptance, about picking up the pieces as you go along, while providing insight into the supposedly glamorous world of professional sports. It is a story about basketball. A story about spirituality, as well as forgiveness. Most importantly, it is a story about life.
Enter coupon code BIG305 to save 20% off either purchase.
(Both books in 8"x11" formatting, using fewer but bigger pages to cut down on printing costs.)
For direct downloads from my site, please to don't be afraid to ask for help with any issue. Only a handful of buyers have had download issues, which have been quickly resolved, and I am more than happy to continue to assist in any potential problems.
Basketball Gods Audiobook $1.79
Basketball Gods Epub File to work with iPad, Nook and other readers $.99
Basketball Gods Mobi File to work with Kindle Reader $.99
Basketball Gods PDF File to work with Adobe and other readers via computer $.99
Basketball Gods: The Transformation of the Enlightened Jock, will be released this coming Tuesday, July 12th, 2011. The PDF and Epub file will be available for purchase through my website for .99 cents. The Audiobook will be available as well for download at $1.79. You can also purchase through kindle, nook and itunes, through their respective outlets.
Furthermore, I am currently formatting for print to order through lulu.com, in both paper and hardback, for those who prefer to hold the old fashioned book in their hand. The pricing will be 7.99 for paperback and 20.99 for hardback cover. This is the lowest I could get. If it was a huge bulk order the books would be cheaper. But single orders are a bit more pricy.
To coincide with the release of Basketball Gods, USA Today will be doing a feature on me and the book on the same day, this coming Tuesday, in both the print and online edition.
Thank you always for your support, as well as helping to spread the word, recommending and sharing through your friends and family, email contacts, facebook and blogs.
Again, thank you,
Thanks to Scott, from Ridiculous Upside, as well the Bobcats media crew:
What will be, will be.