We Ballin'

By Marissa Mitchell

An unauthorized sports biography, We Ballin’: What I learned from LaVar Ball about Basketball, Business, and Bravado centers on the rise in fame and fortune of LaVar Ball, father of the Ball brothers and founder of the Big Baller Brand. It is told from the perspective of Marissa Mitchell, former protégé and later biographer and publicist for LaVar Ball. Written from Marissa’s viewpoint, the story begins with a twelve-year-old girl aspiring to play basketball. Her father seeks out a coach to explore his book-smart daughter’s athletic prowess. He ended up finding a loud, boisterous local man named LaVar Ball. Mr. Ball put her through a tough, disciplined training program that honed her body while she often played one-on-one basketball with his small children. During that time, LaVar confided in her his dreams to make his three sons NBA players using a similar training method. Although she decided not to play basketball in college, instead taking the academic route, she and her father kept in contact with Mr. Ball throughout the years. With her background in English and teaching, she later contacted Mr. Ball with the offer to write his biography. It was the year the three “Ball Brothers” took their public high school basketball team to the California State Championship.
Mr. Ball was very enthusiastic to have Marissa back in the fold of the Ball family. Several in-person interviews ensued, excerpts of which are included in the manuscript. During those interviews, Marissa was asked to assume more responsibilities for the growing family business (Big Baller Brand and Big Baller Media) with the understanding her compensation would be retroactive, with a solid contract at the end of the year 2017. Marissa eagerly accepted the challenge and with the biography almost completed and having worked countless hours pro bono (ending with Lonzo Ball being drafted to the Lakers), Marissa was then fired by LaVar Ball’s new manager. As she comes to terms with being fired and dealing with the complicated emotions that resulted from her one-time role model having her dismissed, she began to see LaVar for what he truly is. She saw firsthand how money, fame, and success can affect people who seem to have your back. In her story, Marissa provides a chronological look at how the business grew and the Ball brothers evolved into pro basketball players. She examines the many controversies LaVar Ball found himself in—from his sons arrest in China to his Twitter war with Donald Trump. Through it all, this idealistic young woman learned that people are not always the way they appear on the outside. And more importantly, through challenges and difficult situations, personal growth can come along when you least expect it. Interestingly enough, after everything she went through, Marissa learned a lot about herself and more importantly, she ended up with the exact things she admired in the Ball family: her own family, a growing career, and a renewed sense of self.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marissa Mitchell
• Release date: Dec 7, 2018
• ISBN: 9781732973022

Marissa Mitchell

Marissa Mitchell, daughter of a lawyer and a doctor, grew up in Chino Hills, California. She graduated as Valedictorian from Don Antonio Lugo High School, and thereafter attended University of California, Los Angeles. There, she completed her Bachelor of Arts degree with honors (cum laude) in English Literature. After a short stint in a post-baccalaureate program for medical school at University of Southern California, she pursued and obtained a Master’s in Education from the same (USC). Throughout college and into her teaching career, Marissa wrote recreationally and professionally. She created her own blog, wrote poems, and contributed curriculum to various nonprofit organizations, including e-Girl NPO and the special education “Champions Curriculum.” Marissa began her career in writing officially upon drafting the biography of LaVar Ball, as well as articles about the Ball family in local newspapers and magazines. She also freelanced for ABC Publications, based in Chino, California, and Become a Champion magazine, based in Denver, Colorado. In February 2017, she opened her own freelancing business called Esther Enterprises, coined after her Jewish name. For email inquiries, send a message directly to Marissa via her business email: [e-mail]. Or, visit the website for the book at www.weballinthebook.com.

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Introduction

November 2015. You truly speak reality into existence, LaVar, I said to the giant of a man in front of me, an awestruck look on my face. With all three of his sons transforming high school basketball, even playing on the same team, everything was going just as he had predicted. And he had been predicting for more than a decade. Lonzo, LaVar’s oldest son, was going to the University of California, Los Angeles next year, and Gelo, the middle son, the year after that. The youngest son, Melo, had already verbally declared for the same school. And then there would be the NBA for all three of them. As a former female protégé of LaVar’s, I couldn’t be prouder. I remember practicing one-on-one with young ‘Zo in LaVar’s backyard. I, too, had been a part of this legacy.

I firmly believed LaVar had something most of us as humans do not possess: unshakeable faith. He had the belief that no matter what, his visions would manifest. He had the secret talked about by the New Ageists that guarantee one’s life dreams coming true. We could all learn from him, from his stories, from his insights, and from who he was. I truly believed that I would follow him to the very end, and that we would remain forever friends.

LaVar sat across the table from me, confident and relaxed, a whopping six feet five inches and three hundred pounds of pure strength. Dark green eyes that were simultaneously convivial and penetrating looked at me amusedly as I typed away on my computer. There was a lilt about them, a lightness. Though I had known LaVar for more than fifteen years, it had been nearly a decade since our last in-person interaction, so I felt a little nervous around him. Nervous, but very excited.

My mission was simple: Understand the Jedi ways of the Ball family. What did it take to become a Baller? How did LaVar’s boys become monoliths of adolescent athletic achievement so early in life? What was the Ball family secret?

Over the next few months, I uncovered an underlying system of thought. That thinking inspired the outstanding athleticism already genetically programmed within the Ball boys and allowed for a singularity of mind unique to the Ball family. This mindset allowed for — and even created — an environment that bred the Ball family success. It was electric.

I looked at LaVar with wonder. Now, if we could all have these insights into, essentially, manifesting one’s reality, how could we benefit from it? What would we do differently?

To find the answers, I traveled into the mind of someone who seemed to accomplish everything that he sought to achieve. I often told LaVar Ball that he spoke what he knew to be true into existence. That would become his catch phrase; he even convinced me came up with it. I believed it, and I think he did too.

What was the inspiration behind this person? How did LaVar ignite the fire in his young sons? What mighty words did he wield? These questions followed me; they haunted me. As a lover of language, I knew that the brevity LaVar loved so much brought powerful words of instruction, packed like bolts of caffeine into tiny tin bottles. What were they? Having interviewed LaVar for what seemed like weeks on end, I discovered his Ballisms and trainer tips, to be varied but powerful.

His words followed me with inspiring cadence. During my interviews with LaVar, I danced to the rhythm of his genius, ever surprised at how he never ceased to amaze me. I was utterly under his spell.

And I loved it.

Chapter 1: Make a Killa’

It was the end of my eighth-grade year, and I wondered what was so odd about wanting to take on a new challenge. It was time for me to move on to high school, and I needed a sport to play for three or four years to show potential universities my vested interest in discipline. Because I was less than adequate in soccer, tennis, volleyball, and just about every other sport I tried, that left basketball. I asked my parents if I could play in high school, having never touched a ball.

As my parents exchanged that all-knowing look that parents do, I knew I was in for something unexpected. They turned to me with big eyes, surveying my lanky, awkward figure. Finally, my dad said, Well, why don’t we get someone to teach you basketball then? My mother nodded in hearty (maybe desperate) agreement.

I didn’t really understand the need to get a basketball trainer. It seemed important to my parents and I figured it wouldn’t hurt, so I didn’t protest. I couldn’t be much worse at basketball than I was at all the other sports I’d tried. It would also be a welcome distraction since I didn’t have many social expectations for high school, based on my lonely years in junior high. First and foremost, I was an academic and that fact comforted me during the lonely lunches. My goal was never to have a lot of friends; my goal was to get into a good college; my dad’s alma mater University of California, Los Angeles, specifically. Everything else was secondary.

By the time I got to high school, it was time to step up my game, scholastically and otherwise. There was an African American pastor named Bose at a local church who would stand outside of Albertsons supermarket in Chino Hills to talk with community members, and my father met him one day. Then, over time, my dad, Mike, got to know him better. When I became interested in basketball, my father ran into Bose at LA Fitness. Bose had a daughter who played basketball. My dad asked him, Who do you recommend as a basketball trainer? He mentioned two names, one of which was the Big Baller. My father was taken aback that a pastor would refer to a man by his nickname. Bose said, This guy really builds confidence and he always has a big smile on his face. He provided the phone number, and my dad called the Big Baller.

Within that same month, I met my new trainer: Mr. LaVar Ball. Meeting LaVar as a thirteen-year-old girl was so intimidating it bordered on frightening. A real-life leviathan today, back then he was just as huge. His bellowing voice and thick muscles filled the room as he towered over me during our initial introduction.

Why hello there, young lady, he said with a crooked smile, Ain’t no ball players look like you! I’m gonna make a killa out of you. I gasped in surprise and looked down, smiling. Just as Bose had said, he introduced himself as The Big Baller.

I didn’t know what make a killa meant, but I was more excited than I let on.

That summer before ninth grade, I caught a glimpse into a way of life I had even imagined. It was full of new skills like learning how to dribble, to properly and effectively lift weights, and (of all things) to run correctly. To my surprise, I was soon doing all those things. I was dribbling a basketball, running up and down hills, and even lifting my own body weight. Many days — most days, actually — I wanted to quit, but I didn’t. I was focused on my academic goal and this was an important piece of the puzzle. Of course, there were sacrifices.

Physically, it was insanely difficult. For example, there wasn’t just free-weight training or pull-up weights, which was hard enough. LaVar’s young trainees, me included, had to run the hills of Chino Hills State Park. LaVar built up our stamina, first by running on level ground, often outside. Then we made our way to the State Park, where we were told to run uphill for one mile as slow or fast as we could, but never stopping. This one mile was marked by a sign at the top of the steep incline. The worst part, however, was the sprinting. Upon entering the Chino Hills State Park, there was a hill that a trainee had to run even during the one-mile warm-up. It was terrifying to me, because it was so imposing. It seemed impossible every time.

First, we ran the mile. Then, we sprinted up this hill, building from one to six sprints. Once we built up to those sprints, LaVar would take us to a smaller hill below the entrance of the park. We’d sprint there too, also building to six sprints. On the smaller hill, we were expected to give it our all, every drop of energy. And we did. The first time I had run the mile, sprinted up the steep hill six times, and sprinted up the smaller hill six times, I didn’t think I was going to take another breath. I was so tired. Even mentally, I was exhausted. I hadn’t thought it was possible for me to complete the running gamut, but I did. This was a well-proven method of LaVar’s, to make his trainees faster than the average player. I was fascinated by his surprisingly effective techniques.

Sometimes I had to run on my own, without LaVar’s other clients. Many times, I almost threw up, but my new coach kept me motivated and I was even surprising myself with my athletic prowess. I was on my way, and while I didn’t realize it at the time, LaVar Ball was assessing the effectiveness of his self-created techniques on me. I was the only non-family member I was aware of who was privy to the same conditioning he put his sons through. LaVar was nothing if not a visionary, and it felt good to be a part of that process. There was a palpable excitement as he continued to prod and push me, treating me like any other kid who wanted to play ball.

I was fifteen, and LaVar’s sons were ages five (Lonzo), three (Gelo), and one (Melo). Since his children were much younger, it felt like I was the guinea pig, as if he were trying out his ideas on me to see what worked and what didn’t. How was he able to motivate me? What did I respond to? How could he mold me physically and psychologically to think, breathe, and eat basketball? His enthusiasm was infectious, and he made me want to give my very best every time. It didn’t seem like just a part-time job for him. He was focused and driven to turn this clumsy, awkward bookworm into a respectable basketball player.

I am incredibly grateful to my parents, especially looking back, for finding LaVar.

If they had not helped me get a trainer in the first place, I would have been severely humiliated on the court. For an uncoordinated and gangly young woman, that was not something to be taken lightly. It was even more inspiring because my mother and father had worked together to find him, even after they began their divorce. The training provided a much-needed distraction while they worked out the details. I was able to excel at something I had never dreamt I could do, despite the turmoil at home. It helped that both parents liked LaVar, especially my dad. LaVar had an honesty and sense of humor Dad appreciated. Maybe LaVar was somehow helping all of us navigate our new reality.

LaVar was from inner L.A., Dad explained after one of my earliest sessions.

That’s why he talked differently from everyone else in Chino Hills, where we lived. Los Angeles was only thirty or so miles away, but LaVar was from what he called the hood, unlike the upper-middle-class neighborhoods of Chino Hills. He was so loud that sometimes I couldn’t hear myself think, but I loved it. Unlike most adults I knew, his speech was full of expletives, something I knew should offend me, but still I found it amusing. He was African American, light-skinned, with piercing green eyes. He was formidable and yet mischievous. He was intimidating and yet kind to me. His character perpetually perplexed me. Maybe it was part of his process, the way he pushed and then pulled back to let things sink in, only to push even harder the next time. It was an intensity I’d never experienced.

On some weekends, we would go to local parks or the YMCA to play pickup basketball, which always intimidated me. I was one of the few girls out there, and usually the youngest, so I stuck out like a sore thumb. During the week, we lifted free weights in his garage, shot hoops, and performed weight-training drills in his all-concrete backyard on the bars. These were pull-up and push-up bars. They reminded me of the ones I’d seen used in prisons, but they worked, and I became stronger than most of my female peers. LaVar did everything differently but always productively.

I was an academic by nature, so this Big Baller phenomenon fascinated me. I had never met anyone like LaVar Ball. Specifically, I had never met anyone who had their own successful job off the grid. Everything I had ever known to work, particularly in school, was largely systematized and, therefore, recognized by many. Whether it was in tutoring or reading classical literature, I had never been off the beaten path. LaVar showed me that a person could do things differently - literally out of a backyard - and succeed. It may have been in athletics, but this entrepreneurial concept was entirely new to me. Throughout his mentoring career, LaVar’s trainees were largely successful due to the work ethic he imparted on them and the old school system he had duplicated in a very suburban setting.

LaVar frequented my basketball games throughout my freshman year of high school. They took place in Chino rather than Chino Hills, but LaVar didn’t have the prejudices others had. Many people from Chino Hills seemed to think anything in Chino — a much older and poorer city — was beneath them. Not LaVar. He made it out there for my games all the time. He was so loud that people on the other side of the bleachers couldn’t miss him. I made myself get used to his voice, as it certainly drew attention, and eventually I even drew inspiration from it. He knew how to motivate me: encouragement. I wasn’t one of those players who could take a lot of criticism, and LaVar explained that every person was different in that way. While some got a fire lit by coaches harping on their mistakes, I was the type that needed to be lifted up when I did well and told that I was doing my best. It was true that I didn’t perform well under pressure.

Early on, LaVar proudly told me that he grew up in South Central Los Angeles. It was an area that I had never been to but had certainly heard about. It was known for high unemployment and extreme poverty among the predominantly black and Hispanic population. In the past, for many young men the only way out was through an athletic scholarship, usually in basketball. In fact, basketball was a way of getting faster, stronger, and more confident. The environment itself required a tough mindset, one impervious to emotion, and one that necessitated versatility to survive the crime and gang violence that often ran rampant. Given this environment, LaVar learned from a young age how to maneuver the system. He was always open about his childhood while I trained with him, explaining what living in the hood was like. He even took my father and I to Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles in East Los Angeles when I was sixteen, regaling us with stories the entire time.

LaVar was scrappy growing up. He was street smart, and he knew how to get his way. From the fourth grade onward, LaVar attended school in the valley of Los Angeles County. As a kid, LaVar knew exactly when to be seen, and when to be invisible. He said living in "the hood, taught him powerful coping strategies.

Because he was a middle child, he decided that no one would miss him in grade school among his other siblings. So, he got to school each day at recess rather than when class began in the morning. To ensure his parents wouldn’t know, he would unplug the house phone in the morning, and again in the evening so they wouldn’t receive the calls from his teacher. He did that for about a month and never got caught. This kind of ingenuity from such a young age struck me in its brilliance, but it also alarmed me. How does one even think of that at such a young age? I chalked it up to his street-wise upbringing.

LaVar’s four brothers were athletic: they were built, and they were talented, particularly at basketball. Since the Ball brothers never played in high school together, they settled for places like Canoga Park and downtown Los Angeles. They played street ball, and they played it well, drawing crowds from the surrounding neighborhoods to see the Ball Brothers in action. Given their abilities, it was natural for LaVar and his brothers to make an impression on the streets of Los Angeles. They became verifiable legends all over the area including Van Nuys Park, Rancho la Cienega, Baldwin Hills, even what LaVar called in the jungle off Crenshaw and Lamarck.

Crowds flocked to see them play. They were what LaVar called the Original Ball Brothers. Though they eventually went their separate ways with varying degrees of success in collegiate sports, LaVar insisted that they were all a sight for sore eyes back in the day. They traveled from gym to gym, and people would say, Here come the Ball brothers. Then they would sit back and enjoy the show of athleticism that flowed so naturally from the brothers. However, that was back on the streets of inner Los Angeles. Now, LaVar was planning to recreate that dynamic in his own family. He planned to relive those glory days, but this time he would take it much further. That was his plan.

LaVar began his basketball career at West Los Angeles Junior College in 1986, where he set the rebounding record. No one could get after the ball quite as quickly as he could, which proved to be an invaluable contribution to his team. From there, LaVar went to Cal State-Los Angeles, and then to Washington State under coach Calvin Sampson. He played his last year of college basketball after transferring back to Cal State. It was there that he met Tina, the woman who would become his wife and mother to his three sons.

Tina had also played with Cal State LA and even overseas in China. She was a veteran basketball player, and LaVar found that appealing.

LaVar played college basketball with one of his brothers at Cal State, an experience he said would only have been better if all Ball brothers had been on the same college team. The trouble with this was the age difference between the five, spanning two decades. They wanted to play together in a certified league but were too far apart in age. Three of LaVar’s brothers are 8, 7, and 2 years his junior, and the eldest is 5 years his senior. Though the age gap didn’t allow the Ball boys to go where they wanted together, they supported each other through thick and thin.

Basketball wasn’t LaVar’s only talent. He has always seemed to have luck on his side. Though LaVar had played briefly at Washington State as a starting forward before returning to Cal State-LA, he didn’t pursue the NBA. He told my father and I that even at 6 feet 5 inches, he wasn’t tall enough. LaVar never told us how many points he averaged while playing for the Division 1 Washington State, but I assume he did well. He did say that he wanted to play with three of his brothers who were playing back at Cal State-Los Angeles at the time, and so he returned to the Division 2 university.

Straight out of college, LaVar surprisingly went into the NFL. In fact, the general manager for the Jets was a close friend of LaVar’s basketball coach. While players are by and large drafted into the NFL through a vetting process, LaVar told me he was recruited as a free agent, having simply been asked to do a few physical exercises at a local arena. He said he excelled in those exercises to such a degree that the tight end coach for the Carolina Panthers recruited LaVar directly onto the team. This was just how it went with LaVar. He was lucky, and he knew it. He perpetuated it. He embodied luck itself and made it work for him.

LaVar was also lucky when it came to love. He recalled taking one look at Tina at Cal State and knowing she was the one. Caucasian, with long blonde hair and a fit, tan physique, Tina was everything LaVar wanted. Back then, LaVar leaned back and said with self-assurance, I was a playa, but when I saw Tina—long hair, tan—I said to her, ‘You and me, we’re gonna do something together. I don’t know what it is, but we will do something.’ And he did. He married her. LaVar told my father and I that he wanted this white girl as a wife, not simply for her looks, but also for her obvious intelligence. That way, his sons would be a mixture of brains and build.

Tina’s parents had a house in Chino Hills, a suburban area created originally as an extension of rural Chino, filled with dairies and farmland. But even at its inception, Chino Hills offered a good deal of newness for the modern, upper-middle class American family. In 1996, LaVar realized the potential of the growing city and purchased his house in Chino Hills for $180,000, in cash. Even back then he exhibited business savvy, figuring it was better to own a house outright than pay a mortgage. His house was situated next to Chino Hills State Park, with its extensive trails and inclines, perfect for training. There, he and Tina built a life together, and there he trained his up-and-coming superstars on the steep hills and uneven terrain of that park.

That year, after moving to Chino Hills, LaVar befriended Cal Ford, a local basketball player aficionado. LaVar spoke affectionately of their first meeting. They were both playing at a local park in the hills called Campus, and LaVar was going in for a dunk only to have Cal attempt to block the shot. Impressed with Cal’s confidence, LaVar saw that he wasn’t fooling around, going for a dunk soon himself. LaVar and Cal were in their twenties and thirties - their physical prime - and soon Cal was throwing the same half-court passes to LaVar as his brothers used to do back in Los Angeles. LaVar said, All he gotta do was pass it, but I’ve got to catch it and gotta score. They were a duo.

LaVar kept up with his game throughout his adult life, even after marriage, with the full intention of having a clan of children so he could pass down his legacy. LaVar remained close with Cal through the years.

As planned, LaVar and Tina had their sons. Three Ball brothers emerged: Lonzo, born in 1997, LiAngelo, born in 1998, and LaMelo, born in 2001. LaVar later said that he wanted his sons’ names to start with the same letter and to rhyme so they rolled off the tongue. That way, when they became famous, people would get used to remembering their names and saying them together. Lonzo came first, also known as Zo, followed within a year by LiAngelo, also known as Gelo, finally LaMelo, also known as Melo. LaVar wanted to see the legacy of his family extend throughout America and beyond.

Watching LaVar coach me day in and day out, it was hard for me to imagine the struggles he surely faced growing up in such challenging surroundings. While I knew that his childhood had been difficult, it remained largely obscure to me. One thing I noticed as we continued was his unshakeable determination and drive. It’s what I found most inspiring about LaVar, and his zest for life at times overpowered me. I was caught in the allure and magnetic pull of his endless energy and unrivalled charisma. Being around that undeniable dedication fed into my own obsessive tendencies as I continued my academic focus. Still, I surprised myself by becoming more athletic every day by following his program: the sprints up Chino Hills parks, the shooting drills, the weights, and the body lifting.

It was all coming together, just as he’d promised.

Trainer Tip #1: Plant the Seed Early and Prepare.

Chapter 2: The People’s Choice

When Lonzo, the oldest of LaVar’s boys, was five years old, I was sixteen. Though I was the proclaimed female protégé and known as the killa in LaVar’s backyard, even beating high school boys one-on-one regularly and making a few cry in the process, I was no Lisa Leslie on the court in high school. LaVar would often tell me that I was a silent killa, but that I just had to get out of my own way. I had to stop over- thinking and simply start doing. I didn’t know how to do that.

Then I started playing Lonzo one-on-one. Honestly, it was a bit fun playing someone so much shorter than I was. He was only five, but his unmistakable talent was already obvious, and I never minded if he scored a basket against me. Anyone willing to play someone ten years older is a baller in my book. Occasionally, Lonzo would exhibit some frustration, as it was easy for someone three feet taller than him to block his shot every so often. LaVar, looking on, would encourage Lonzo gleefully, "See, son?

You’ve gotta be faster than that. You gotta outrun her. She’s too tall for you to shoot against." I found it all amusing. My love for the family grew.

I was a thinker, and that showed on the court. While I had gotten to varsity by my sophomore year in high school, I couldn’t perform adequately to get more than a few minutes here and there during games. I trained with LaVar through my junior year, and by then he had transformed me physically. By sixteen, I had the reflexes of a cat. I could see out of the corners of my eyes and react quickly. There were things I could do that I had never dreamed of doing before, and, more than that, I had a new family: The Ball family.

LaVar still frequented my games and made his booming voice known across the court. He did that with all the young trainees of his growing business, particularly those of us who were with him multiple times a week. Whenever I was at the Ball house, LaVar was either just finishing training someone or about to train another. He could train a few of us at a time, all while cooking dinner if necessary. He was a multi-tasker of the highest order and I loved that about him. Many times, his young sons sat in on our sessions and shot some hoops with me and other trainees. The little guys were always involved, even Melo, the youngest. LaVar was always training his sons alongside everyone else.

I wasn’t sure just how many people LaVar trained, but I knew the number