A Father First: How My Life Became Bigger Than Basketball (13 page)

When I suggest that he and I go for a walk to a park down the street, I keep the conversation going as we walk, asking him questions and asking if he has questions for me. There is no rush, no hurry, no tearful good-bye to have to endure, nowhere to go. Just me and my son.

We talk about everything: father and son stuff, everything that he may have been holding inside, anything that I can help address, all kinds of subjects that he knows so much about, surprisingly, also how we were so fortunate to get to build the kind of honest, open relationship that not all dads and their kids get to have, how I don’t want him to be afraid to tell me anything and to know that there are always going to be bumps in the road ahead but we’ll deal with them together.

And this brings me to the close of the long answer to the question of how, by the end of that weekend after I was granted custody of the kids, I figured out how to tell them.

Zaire and I sat in the park together, talking about everything, talking for so long in fact that eventually I started to get hungry.

Then again, I’m always hungry.

Part Two

Chapter
Four

Sanctuary

T
UESDAY
EVENING

M
ARCH
15, 2011

A
T
HOME
IN
M
IAMI

W
HAT A DIFFERENCE A HOUSE FULL OF BOYS CAN MAKE!

In the matter of a few days, I’ve been transformed. That’s truly how I feel—as if getting that one-line e-mail changed my life on its own. For good.

It’s not just the joy of waking up in the mornings to the sound of my sons’ voices calling, “Daddy get up!” or having them physically pounce on the bed to wake me. It’s the realization that they’re my partners in building our new lives together. And I’m so happy to be Daddy/Coach of Team Wade and also just teammate, one of the boys.

Besides the main task of enrolling them in their new schools, by Tuesday afternoon I’ve drawn up a chart for each of the boys to be able to see their daily and weekly responsibilities at a glance. I explain that this is a game plan for success. The chart has reminders for activities like brushing teeth first thing in the morning, then washing faces, or putting away shoes and changing clothes after school, sitting down for a regular homework time before dinner, and then showering before bed.

“Just the same as I have a game plan for success to win basketball games, you two have your own game plans for success.” We talk about all the R words: Rules, Respect, Responsibility, and Rewards. Oh, yeah, and one more that everything can be built on: Routine. Nothing is written in stone, I emphasize. But a routine reinforces respect for house rules and responsibilities and leads to an understanding of order, along with respect for self and others, which in turn leads to major life rewards. “Any questions?”

They appear to be excited. Zion boasts, “My chart’s the best!” Zaire is about to take the bait and argue, but then goes along with him, agreeing.

We also have a calendar they put up on the wall in their bedroom so they can both see when important events are coming up. Zion and I make a big X on the date when they’ll be going back to Chicago and he’ll see his mom.

Whether my ex and I have communication yet or not, I do recognize that my sons are the happiest when they know they’re going to see her.

Earlier on this Tuesday morning, I was interviewed on ESPN’s PTI. I had anticipated that questions would come up about the resolution of the custody fight. Throughout the divorce and custody proceedings, I avoided interviews that touched on my personal life. However, since detailed reports were being published in the media about the judge’s findings—and because this was only the five-minute “Pardon the Interruption” segment on ESPN, which was going to focus on the Heat’s rout of the San Antonio Spurs on Monday, I agreed to talk.

After dinner Lisa Joseph stops by with some paperwork for me to review and sign. The boys, already in their pajamas, jog into the den to give Lisa hugs and then run off to enjoy a half hour of play before bedtime. I’m about to go join them when Lisa checks the time and suggests, “Let’s watch the PTI interview.” She was with me when I did the live interview and wants to see how it plays.

I turn on the TV as she and I prepare to watch it when Zaire, with his superpowered nine-year-old ears, magically reappears back in the den and snuggles up next to me on the sofa. Though I want to shield the boys from the publicity, I also don’t want them to ever feel secrets are being kept from them at any level. I know the damage that feelings kept inside can cause. So I let him watch, not sure how he’s going to react.

Of course, the initial questions have to do with the fact that a mere ten days earlier, the Spurs crushed the Heat by thirty points and, lo and behold, by March 14, the night before, Miami hosted San Antonio and “returned the favor.”

In answer to how we had gotten out of our losing rut and were now back to dominating in three consecutive games, I began by admitting that we had regained some much-needed confidence. After all, for anyone following us this season, most of the country seemed to be cheering for the Heat to crumble.

Well, I was asked, could that have been our fault for having such a high-profile celebration at our arena to kick off the season with James and Bosh now on board? And if we had it to do over again, would we maybe rethink drawing attention to ourselves that way?

“No, sir,” I answered. “That celebration was for our fans.” If we as a team could do anything to boost spirit in the city, I went on, we should. My point was that although a lot of people think of Miami much like the backdrop behind where I was sitting at the moment—flowers, sunshine, and South Beach—there was great challenge and struggle in many South Florida communities. “So if we can do something to bring the light, we will.” The celebration to kick off the season, I continued, was us showing our appreciation for the people of our hometown, and it just happened to be on TV.

“Exactly!” says Zaire, giving me a thumbs-up. I shoot a look at Lisa, who hides her smile. That’s my boy, an expert on media relations.

But then the interview shifted gears with the announcement that the long, drawn-out custody battle was decided in my favor.

PTI: How has that changed your life?

ME: Oh, it’s changed dramatically . . . Of course, I was preparing for it mentally. I went through a long divorce proceeding and custody battle but today I’m thankful for the judge for seeing that Miami and my home are the best place for my sons in their lives. . . . I’m happy for them to grow up with me in my household with me as a father but I’m happy to nourish a relationship with their mom and to make sure that we as a family continue strong, together or not, that my kids get all they need out of life from both their parents. It’s also a good time as father-sons.

PTI: LeBron was asked how your game came alive and he said, “He’s got his kids.” (Laughter.) But Dwyane I gotta ask, how hard has this been for you?

ME: It’s been very hard. I just want to be a father. I just want to be Daddy. That was taken away from me for a while and if anyone knows me, I’m a family man. I am all about my kids and I didn’t have them in my life for a while and it took a lot out of me, out of my personality. My mind was clogged up a lot. Friday the eleventh my mind got unclogged and I could focus on everything I care about—which is to focus on teaching my kids everything that I know and I don’t know . . . about life. So I’m out there playing with a free mind. Now I don’t have a lot to think about. . . . I’ve been going through it for three years. . . . It’s made me a better person, a better man but right now today I’m a happier man.

As the interview wraps up, I turn to Zaire to gauge his reaction and see that a shadow has fallen over his face. Before I can ask him what’s wrong he says sadly, “It’s longer than three years.”

“You know, you’re right Zaire,” I say.

Then he counts out on his hand exactly how long that it’s been since he was a little over five and a half, back in July 2007, when his mom and I started to be apart for good. “That’s three years and eight months.”

“Three years and eight months,” I echo him, glancing over at Lisa, who is as struck by his comment as I am. Somehow, until now, I wasn’t aware that he was as involved and affected by the legal, emotional roller-coaster ride of the past several years. And the fact hurts me for him that at his young age he knows specifically how long it has dragged on.

It hurts me that my firstborn son, the same kid who usually wears his heart on his sleeve, who can act out when something is bothering him, has been forced to internalize this stress within himself all this time.

Damn, that was one family trait I never wanted to pass on to my children.

The realization dawns on me, thanks to this lesson from Zaire, that as parents we’re always walking that fine line between wanting our children to be protected from difficulties and wanting to give them tools for learning how to be strong and how to grow, how to toughen up without losing their innocence.

Not that I was ready for the toughness lessons when I was growing up. But they were necessary even so.

IF YOU ASKED ME TODAY WHAT MY GREATEST DISAPPOINTMENT in life has been, it wouldn’t be a season loss or a game that slipped out of my hands or any one major goal that didn’t materialize. My biggest disappointment was in myself for leaving the old neighborhood, for not making my way back after I’d been with my dad for a while and doing more for the women in my family who raised me.

No, it doesn’t make sense. Tragil had given me the ultimate gift of saving my life and getting me out of there in time. But still, I was disappointed that I didn’t stick around for the people I loved, that I wasn’t tough enough to handle the challenges. Not that I could have done anything to change the downward spiral Mom was facing or the danger that Tragil was going to be in. But that was a part of the frustration and disappointment—not being able to help change things that were beyond my control.

Like in the movie
Big,
I wanted to get older fast enough to be able to do more. But in reality, I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t go buy a ticket and change myself overnight to make a difference. So the only way that I could live with the lasting disappointment was by promising myself that if I ever was successful, I’d go back and make up for lost time by helping out in a major way. Not just my family but other boys and girls and their families growing up in the madness.

Until I had gained the power of being able to do that, my guilt and regret would simmer for years. By the time I had settled into the fifth grade after we moved to Robbins, I had toughened up enough just from learning to block the memories—at least temporarily. But there was one memory that became unblockable.