Breaking Generational Cycles: Creating Role Modelz
- Josh Haymond
- 7 days ago
- 4 min read
On Sundays, I coach my sons' basketball team. This Sunday hit harder though, as it saw life, basketball, music and fatherhood intersect.
J Cole's son happens to play in the same league. On the way to the gym, as we blasted 2014 Forest Hills Drive (still my favorite Cole album), my boys and I talked about how unlikely it would be that J. Cole was in attendance, given the magnitude of what was to come just a few hours later. While it’s not uncommon to have parents at games, J. Cole was set to perform at the final Dreamville Festival in Raleigh, North Carolina that evening — a major event that over a hundred thousand fans were eagerly awaiting.
We were shocked when Cole walked into the gym, mask and hat on trying to conceal his identity as best as possible. And in that moment, it hit me — this wasn’t just a moment for a famous artist to be a proud dad. This was a statement, a powerful act of breaking the generational cycles that he himself grew up with. In retrospect, perhaps we shouldn't have been shocked.
J. Cole’s story is one we all know — his father wasn’t present in his life. In interviews, he’s shared the pain of growing up without that fatherly presence, and his lyrics, from "No Role Modelz" to “Lost Ones” to “Folding Clothes,” express the weight of that absence. Despite his fame and success, J. Cole’s childhood was shaped by the absence of his father. But as he’s grown into adulthood, he’s committed himself to being the father his own dad wasn’t.
Seeing J. Cole show up for his son, however, took on a personal meaning for me. Growing up, my own father wasn’t present in my life, and I know the impact that can have. It’s a tough cycle to break, one that’s easy to perpetuate without realizing the power of being present for our children. That’s why seeing J. Cole in the gym was so meaningful to me — not just because he’s a celebrity, but because it spoke to a deeper truth about the responsibility and opportunity we all have to rewrite our own narratives.
What struck me most was how deeply this commitment to fatherhood resonates with the importance of breaking generational cycles. As a coach, I’ve seen how pivotal it is for children to have engaged parents, particularly fathers who model what love, responsibility, and support look like. J. Cole’s presence at the game was a reminder that breaking these cycles requires action — not just words.
Fathers who weren’t present in their own childhoods face an incredibly tough challenge: to rewrite their own stories and create new legacies for their children. J. Cole could have easily used his success to distance himself from the daily grind of fatherhood. But instead, he’s chosen to show up — to sit courtside at a youth basketball game, to cheer on his son, and to be an example of what a loving, involved father looks like. This simple act speaks volumes about the man he’s worked hard to become and the father he’s determined to be.
It’s not easy to break cycles, especially when they’ve been ingrained for years, but J. Cole’s decision to be present — to show up and be there for his son — is a powerful example of how one person can change the trajectory of their family’s story. It’s a reminder to all of us that it’s never too late to break free from the patterns of the past, to choose a different path, and to create a better future for the next generation.
So, as my team played J. Cole’s son’s team, I couldn’t help but reflect on the full circle moment of it all. Here was a man who, through his music and life, has not only changed the game but has also become a symbol of resilience, healing, and the importance of showing up — no matter how busy life gets.
J. Cole’s decision to be a present father isn’t just a personal victory; it’s a message to everyone about the power of breaking generational cycles. It’s about showing up, being consistent, and making sure our children feel the love, guidance, and presence they deserve. And for that, I have the utmost respect.
Lastly, this wasn't the first time basketball brought J. Cole and I together. Years prior, immediately following the release of 2014 Forest Hills Drive, I had the privilege of playing against J. Cole in a local rec league game — he with much less hair, and me with much more. That night was his birthday. I told him I loved the new album, and I also told him I wasn't going to let him score on his birthday. He laughed, we battled, and his team got the win — but at least he didn't score.
Salute to J. Cole — truly one of the realest to ever do it.
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