As the Lakers move into game four of the NBA finals, one embarrassing moment from five years ago is being retold and relived by my kids over and over. My only choice is to sit back and blush…
My kids and I pulled into a local gas station to fill up the car and get snacks. They stayed buckled in the car (doors open and windows down) while I ran inside to find something healthy for them to eat. Once inside, I quickly made my selections, got in line and waited. And waited. And waited. The cashier was too busy engaging the customer in front of me to do his job. Looking outside dramatically at my kids in the car, I tried to appear pressed for time, but not rude. I was not succeeding. I was also too frustrated and rushed to listen in on their conversation. The cashier finally whipped out a paper and pen and asked the man in front of me for his autograph. I could no longer keep quiet and jumped into their conversation…if for no other reason than to let the cashier know I was there, waiting.
To this very tall, athletically handsome African American man, I blurted out, “What, are you a famous basketball player or something?” He smiled, I think. Probably at the gall of this exchange (again, it was meant as an innocent question, just so I could find a way to pay for my kids’ snacks). “Actually, yes,” he replied. “Oh!” Not the answer I was expecting, then “Would you please come and say hi to my two boys? They are in the car – and they love to play basketball.” He agreed and we left the cashier inside with my unpaid pile of snacks on the counter.
The minivan doors were completely open so it was easy for the boys to have a conversation from their buckled seats with this “famous basketball player or something.”
“Boys, this man is a famous basketball player, um,” I hesitated, as I did not know his name. I looked at him and he could see what I was searching for. “Lamar Odom,” he said. “Omar Lodom,” I repeated quickly to make sure the boys heard him.
“Kendall plays basketball, Omar,” I said and watched as he bent his tall frame down to their height and engaged them in conversation. Which ended with, “It’s Lamar.”
“May we have your autograph?” I was so excited to add it to my collection – which consisted solely of a Shaq signed basketball. He agreed and more than graciously occupied my kids in basketball conversation while I hunted for something to write on. I eventually found a blank card and a pen and handed it to him, thanking him.
“Now you can tell your coach you have met Omar Lodom!” I excitedly said to my two boys who were deeply enthralled with this man. “It’s Lamar, ma’am,” he corrected me again, nicely. It must have been the “ma’am” thing that threw me (I’m much to young to be a ma’am!) as I did it again, soooo not on purpose. “Thank you Omar, for talking with my kids.” Then to the boys, “Won’t it be exciting to tell your coach you met Omar Lodom?” My boys shook their heads yes, shook Omar’s hand, and thanked him profusely.
And as though he wanted my boys to get the significance of this moment in their brief basketball careers, he put is hand on the mini van roof, leaned in a bit closer to my kids and said slowly, “Boys, tell your coach you met, Lamar Odom. Lamar. Odom.” Kendall and Kamden smiled, realizing I had been mispronouncing his name over and over. Lamar smiled back at them as though part of a conspiracy. I blushed. Apologized. And thanked him for the autograph and for his time. And apologized and blushed, again.
Driving away and chattering about who we just met, we realized that Kendall’s favorite two hats were a Clippers hat with ODOM written on the front and back and a Miami Heat cap with Odom on the back. The latter of which had been worn out and retired. It was not until that moment that we all made the connection. And the boys were mortified. As was I. But in that moment I was so appreciative of how graciously the “famous basketball player or something” handled himself and this housewife driving a minivan with two young kids buckled in their booster seats.
The next day there was an article in the paper. Lamar Odom had just signed with the Los Angeles Lakers. “No way!” My boys exclaimed. As I read the details of his deal, I realized this might have been one reason he was in such a generous mood with the cashier, with me, and with the boys. The other being that he is indeed kind and giving.
This story lives on in my household even though my kids have stopped playing basketball and turned to soccer, baseball and fencing. Basketball may roll around for them again, but until then, we are adamant Lakers fans and in particular we root for our friend, Omar Lodom, err, Lamar Odom. Go Lamar! Go Lakers!
Paris, Sophie and I were enjoying the baby turtles and giant fish in a nearby pond when the roar of cars from the street interrupted our serene exploration. All of a sudden a never-ending line of Lamborghinis came barreling through the closest intersection. It was, at first, magnificent. These amazingly expensive and powerful cars in candy-coated colors were close enough to feel. The roar reverberated in our bellies and the colors sparkled in the morning sun.