GETTIN' GROWN

Thanks to Ms. Jefferson for giving me the topic to blog about.

I'm sitting at my desk looking at an old newspaper article that I have hanging up trying to find my zone.... It says as the top Headline..... BRANDON DAVENPORT: MR. BASKETBALL. I've read this article countless times over the 12 years(April 26th, 1997 to be exact) it's been since I stood in the captial building in the Frankfort rotunda in front of the Governor of Ky and other members of the media, the State Senate and family and friends. I hang it up now because when I look at it, I'm constantly reminded on the belief that "Hard work, dedication, and faith will ultimately equal success." It may not be exactly what you want, but it will be success in some sense of the word.

I recall that day, vividly. It was a day similar to that of which the weather is outside. A cold, rainy, dreary day. I remember getting all jazzy in my fresh Navy Blue suit(the only one I owned back in HS) and My Tommy Hilfiger tie. I mean, I had my two gold hoops in, my shoes was polished, my shirt was pressed, and even before SWAG came out as a word that quite a few people hate(don't worry, I'mma blog on that in the future) I felt as if I was STYLIN on those Cats, like "WHAT!!! You thought I wouldn't win this award when I told you I would." When I used to write it on my notebooks and Trapper Keepers(damn) and put the year when I was a Freshman in HS, Teachers, students, everyone thought I was nuts. I had a teacher, who is actually on FB, that told me as a 9th grader ,"Brandon, you have almost no shot, they pick that award well before you become a senior."

I looked at him, like, "Yo, I'mma show you, playboy..." I used to write it on the blackboard everyday before his class, just so he'd see it. He'd shake his head like I was crazy. I had no clue how I was going to do it. I was a stocky PG, who didn't have a great outside shot off the dribble, hated to go left, big hands, big feet, and just really didn't look like a basketball player. I was overshadowed by a fellow teammate who was 6'7 and had perimeter skills that people raved about. I just had a vision. I made a declaration that whatever I took to win that award, to be recognized for my work... to hold that trophy as a tangible, visible piece of evidence that showed, not only did I demand your respect on the court, I earned it.

I didn't win that award on my own. Many people played a part. Two of my former teammates that are both on Facebook, Jon Moorman and David Phillips were two of my best friends. Without either of them, and their hard work, I wouldn't have been able to be entered into a part of Kentucky Basketball History. I'll come back to them in a bit. I can still feel the electricity that ran through my body as I stood up there speaking... unscripted, kind of like I'm doing now. I was asked to sum up how I felt in one word during an interview with a local news station. The word, ACCOMPLISHMENT.

I truly did feel accomplished. The next day me and David had KY All Star Tryouts and I remember being told that my father, who took my trophy home, was riding up and down the "Downtown" area of Owensboro(if you ain't from OB, you don't know what or where that is) Blowing the horn, pumping the brakes like he had hydraulics in his caddy, basically "STYLING" on "CATS"(his word that I picked up and use) who were hating on his son saying that he wasn't about nothing.

I chuckled when I heard that because I already knew he was off the Miller High Life as he did it. That was my Pops, GOD rest his soul.

As a father now of a three year old son, I understand why my father had so much jubilation when I would succeed in life. It's why I take being a father so serious. My son, Jackson Jerron Davenport, born July 10, 2006 at 9:10 pm changed my life exponentially when he entered the world. Jackson, or "DILLA" as those who are close to me and him call him, brings me a joy that I can't even put into words. He's allowed me to change from a immature, selfish, self-centered A** Hole into a Caring, loving, motivated, giving, grown up A** Hole. LULZ(My word). I'm still the A Hole that many have came to know and love(and hate). It's just that he chills alot more.


One thing my father told me is that it was his goal or rather, his duty to make sure that I had every oppertunity to go further and be more than he was. To ultimately be a "better man". I believe wholeheartedly that it should be every father's aspiration for their sons to reach that plateau. If I had a dream for Jackson, it wouldn't be for him to follow my foots and his grandfather's footsteps and play basketball(although he probably will), but I pray all the time, "GOD, please make him a Rhode Scholar. Give him Intellect that is unparalleled, Grant him health and prosperity.

Where I have failed, let him succeed, where I have fallen, allow him to SOAR" Before his birth, I would have prayed that prayer for me. God, GIVE ME, GRANT ME, ALLOW ME, but now, it's all about him. For anyone who knew me well, they know that actually putting another before me and my needs was something that I have acquired in the not so distant past. Responsibility now is a 34 pound, wild eyed little boy, with my light brown eyes, my hands, my feet, my build, my laugh and most importantly, MY LAST NAME.

That is without a doubt, the main reason that I GO HARD as a father. Jackson is the youngest Davenport male from my father's lineage. Both of my brothers have male children and that means that my father's seed will continue to be passed on whether Jackson procreates or he does not, but they carry a different last name. For reasons I won't go into, I place that on my father. It is the one black mark mistake that I could not understand he made in his life. Still, even with that, I owe it to my father to make sure that his name is carried on. In the best way possible.


One of the hardest Tattoos I had to endure pain wise(emotional, not physical) was the DAVENPORT on my back that is the top of the head stone. I remember being in that chair, and my eyes just started to run. My father always told me and my sister to live up to our name. To not disrespect it and to do everything in our power to take it further than our parents did. It was hard to hold back the tears at that time because I was wondering how in the world I would do that. My basketball career was over. I didn't go on to be a famous Doctor or Lawyer(I don't think I would have wanted to do either even though I could have) I was just Brandon. How would I honor my father as I was taught in bible study? God answered that question when He brought J into the world. I don't smile much in pictures, but usually in every picture that I had when Jackson was first born I was like the JOKER.


I have never been more proud, more excited, more filled with love and joy than when I held him. When I looked in his eyes and he looked back and I knew that he came from me. Jackson is the future as My newest tattoo states, he is my future. After God, he is #1 to me. Nothing means more than his happiness, even if it has to come at the sacrifice of many things that I used to love. He gets top billing. He gets my time. His safety comes before mine. His mouth is fed before mine. His back has clothes before mine. All in all, Jackson is more imporant to me than I am to myself. My two former teammates are fathers, as well as my brother from another mother, Calvin Brooks, and one thing I know amongst us all is that we all care deeply for our offspring.

I get to be around Calvin and his son from time to time, I and see the same look in his eyes that I have in mine when I look at J. I see Jon and his pictures with his son and I know what he goes through to see his child as much as possible and I know that he's right there lock and stock with me on this. I know that we all pray that our sons have it better than we did. Go futher than we went, dream larger than we dreamed...and I have faith that we will do everything within our power to give them those opportunities. I still get taken back a bit when I get compliments about being such an active and caring father. It's good to hear, but it's not the reason that I do it. I never will brag about taking care of my child. Because it's my honor. It's my privelage. It's my responsibility.


I do think I'm a good dad..but i'm not perfect. I'm still working. I remember practicing carrying around a teddy bear in my arms to get ready to learn how to hold a newborn. I was such a nervous wreck. Would I get this right? Would I screw up his formula? How does this diaper go? What is a One-z? When do I burp him again? Much like that former kid who had no clue how he would win Mr. Basketball, I'm now a father who feels a level of accomplishment. I've split from his mother. (PRAISE GOD) and I stayed much longer than I would have if not for him, but I wasn't about to leave him until there was NO other option. I didn't know how that was going to work out either, but God worked it out.


So I'm a single dad... and you know what... I love it. I used to bathe him(he's on big boy showers now), we brush our teeth together, we eat breakfast together on my weekends, we watch Spongebob(i have to suffer through it) and BEE movie, or "BEES" as Jackson calls it. We go to parks, I take him to Farnsley Middle and let him Run around the track and on the soccer field. We be stylin on Cats(my new phrase) in the Wal-Mart on Cane Run all the time and he gets mad when we drive past that and can't go in. I LOL'D just then. Even as I type this, I look at his pictures on my phone and I miss him.


It's such a different type of love. It really can't be put into the english language. There aren't enough adjectives to describe the ways I feel when I hold my son, when I watch him sleep... when I see him fall and pick himself up and say, "I'm okay". I already see toughness in him. Grit, strength, determination and some STUBBORNESS. Still, when I think about those two roads, "Basketball Glory" or "Fathering Jackson" if I could do it all again, Hoops don't come remotely close to the Boy.

He is my heart, personified. So as God gave us His Son, as we are about to celebrate EASTER, may we be as God was and give to our Sons all the love and all the reassurance that only a father can give.


This is Brandon Davenport, Author, Creator, and Head Writer of the Middle Finger blog telling you, " I'm a Daddy. Not just a father, but a Daddy" There's nothing in the world like it.

Happy Easter.