“Daddy, what’s the D-League?”
Doc Rivers looked up from his newspaper. His son had hardly touched his cereal, aimlessly stirring it around with his spoon.
“The D-League?”
“Yeah. Some kids on the bus yesterday were making fun of me. They were saying ‘Austin is going to be such a bust! He’s going to get way overrated because of his illustrious pedigree and then he’s going to disappoint everyone before being sent to the D-League to rot away forever!’. And they kept saying it, and I was telling them to shut up, but they wouldn’t shut up dad, and I don’t even know what a D-League is!”
The young Austin Rivers was crying now, his head on the table, cereal and orange juice forgotten.
Doc bustled out of his chair to comfort Austin. Kneeling down next to him, he put a reassuring arm over his son’s shoulders. “Listen here, son. I’ve never heard of something called a ‘D-League’, but I can assure you, if you are ever in danger of being sent there, I will be by your side to rescue you. No son of mine is going to such a place.”
Austin’s sobbing lessened slightly. He pulled his head up from the table and looked at his father with watery eyes. “You promise?” he said between sniffles.
Doc clapped his son on the back. “I promise. And tell those bullies I said so. Tell them that not only will you not be a bust, but you will also score 28 points in an NBA game. And tell them that I, NBA great Doc Rivers, will be by your side as you do it, perhaps not smiling, but proud as a father can possibly be. Will you tell them that, Austin?”
The junior Rivers was smiling fully now, his reddened eyes the only reminder of the preceding sadness. “I love you, dad.”
Enveloping his son in a hug, the elder Rivers responded. “I love you too, son. Now, hurry up with breakfast. You don’t want to be late for school.”