The NBA is a league built on legacies, but sometimes, the weight of a famous last name can crush a young player before his career truly begins. Never has this been more evident than in the jarring, almost tragic contrast between Bronny James and Kiyan Anthony. While one prodigy steps onto the court with real, earned momentum, the other stands as a stark, painful warning of what happens when fatherly influence eclipses genuine readiness.

The whole basketball world witnessed the spectacular, heartbreaking failure of what many are now calling “LeBron’s Plan.” It wasn’t a slow burn; it was a sudden, public immolation that took place on November 15, 2025, in Milwaukee. With the Lakers missing three key rotation players, coach JJ Redick made a move that raised every possible eyebrow: he inserted Bronny James into the starting lineup for the second time in his career, but the first time in a game where the pressure was truly unbearable, where the result genuinely mattered.

The box score that followed was a nightmare made real. Bronny played a mere 10 minutes—fewer than several bench players—and finished with a line that looked like a typo: zero points, one rebound, one assist, one steal, and a telling minus-six rating. He took two shots, both from deep, and missed both. His rhythm was non-existent.

The worst part of the performance wasn’t Bronny’s missed shots; it was the chilling confirmation that the opposing defense didn’t even respect him. Milwaukee’s defensive scheme openly ignored Bronny James on the perimeter, backing off every possession. By choosing to let a starting guard stand wide open, they effectively jammed the Lakers’ spacing, turning a potential weapon into a disruptive liability. Before this humiliating start, Bronny’s season averages were already borderline unplayable for an NBA roster spot: 2.3 points and 1.9 assists per game, shooting an abysmal 29.2% from the field and 25% from three. These figures are not just below NBA standard; they barely register at the G-League level. Yet, there he was, standing in the spotlight of the storied Lakers franchise, an athlete defined not by his production, but by the famous name sewn onto the back of his jersey.

The Architect of the Crisis: LeBron’s Script

To understand Bronny’s current plight, you must look beyond the young man himself and focus on the one person who turned up the pressure to maximum: his father, LeBron James. The prevailing narrative, brutally laid bare by ESPN firebrand Stephen A. Smith, is that Bronny’s NBA arrival was a storyline written by LeBron, not earned through the natural trajectory of steady athletic development.

The timeline is damning. Bronny’s collegiate numbers at USC (4.8 points, 2.8 rebounds, 2.1 assists) were decidedly underwhelming, even before the terrifying cardiac arrest scare he suffered in 2023. By all traditional metrics, he was nowhere near ready for the NBA Draft. Yet, the Lakers—the team controlled by his legendary father—used the 55th pick in the 2024 draft to bring him aboard. This move was universally understood to be a direct consequence of LeBron’s public and oft-repeated “dream” of playing alongside his son. He turned a personal aspiration into a televised, full-court-press storyline, forcing the entire league to stare at a situation he had single-handedly engineered.

The controversy boiled over on March 6, 2025, when LeBron James walked straight up to Stephen A. Smith courtside during a Lakers-Knicks game and confronted the analyst on live television. The cameras caught LeBron looking furious, delivering a message that Smith claimed was too explicit for TV, telling him to stop talking about his son. The clip went instantly viral, a powerful image of a father defending his child.

However, the next day, Smith delivered a counterpunch that flipped the entire conversation: “I wasn’t talking about Bronny. I was talking about him—about LeBron.”

Smith argued that he was not questioning Bronny’s character or work ethic, but rather LeBron’s calculated decision to push his son into a pressure cooker for which he was not built. In a fierce address on his podcast, Smith ratcheted up the criticism, stating, “I just want to say for the record, LeBron James is full of it. And in this particular instance, as it pertains to his son, he is a liar.” This wasn’t light criticism; it was a personal, direct challenge, accusing LeBron of scripting a reality for his son that his skills couldn’t yet support.

Smith even suggested the courtside confrontation was a manufactured moment. “You’re LeBron James in a packed arena with cameras everywhere,” Smith noted. “Yet the only clip that goes viral is a perfect, clean shot of LeBron stepping right up to Stephen A.’s face.” Smith’s conclusion was that the moment was planned, designed to create a sympathetic narrative while deflecting attention from the fact that Bronny was struggling to validate his spot. The consensus became clear: Bronny James is in the NBA because of LeBron James, full stop, and his starting spot is now actively blocking more deserving players.

The True Blueprint: Kiyan Anthony’s Quiet Ascent

Contrast this catastrophic journey with the path being carved by Kiyan Anthony, the son of fellow NBA legend Carmelo Anthony. The difference is more than just statistics; it’s a philosophical divergence in parenting and professional development.

While LeBron was scripting his son’s draft night, Carmelo Anthony was staying low-key, allowing Kiyan to earn his success organically. Melo’s hands-off, patient approach meant Kiyan fought through AAU battles, stacked highlight tapes, and built his own reputation through sheer, undeniable production—not through his last name.

Kiyan Anthony’s resume is built on receipts. He casually dropped 40 points in a major tournament, hitting 15 of 19 shots and five of six from deep against legit competition. On the Nike EYBL circuit, he averaged 19.6 points and 4.6 rebounds, escalating his dominance at the high-stakes Nike Peach Jam to 21.8 points per game while shooting 37.3% from three. His performance at the NBA Top 100 camp was even more eye-opening, leading the entire event in scoring with 28.5 points across eight games, including a 42-point explosion.

The scouting reports on the 6’5” scorer are glowing: skilled, smooth, high-volume shot-taker and shot-maker, playing with an aggressive scoring mentality. He possesses an advanced offensive arsenal—pull-ups, step-backs, floaters, and deep threes—all executed with a natural touch and instinctive feel for putting the ball in the basket. He is a legitimate scoring threat in his own right, ranking 36th in the ESPN 100.

When Kiyan committed to Syracuse University on November 15, 2024, he was not gliding in on his father’s fame; he was stepping onto hallowed ground he had earned. His father, Carmelo, remains a deity at Syracuse, having carried the program to its first and only National Championship in 2003, winning the NCAA tournament’s Most Outstanding Player award and having his name, Carmelo K. Anthony, literally adorning the practice facility walls. The weight of that legacy is immense, but Kiyan has approached it by earning his spot first. When he looked into the camera and said, “Now we’re going to get to work,” you could feel the authenticity—this was a player ready to define himself.

The Defining Moment of Overrated

The core question the basketball world must now confront is this: Is Bronny James more overrated than Kiyan Anthony?

The debate ends quickly. Kiyan Anthony is not overrated at all; he is rated exactly where his game dictates. He is a top 40 recruit because he earned that spot with consistency, dominance, and a visible work ethic. His supporters can point to actual numbers, real games, and verifiable production to back their claims.

Bronny James, however, is the quintessential example of a player pushed far beyond what his current game justifies. The zero-point start against the Bucks was merely a receipt delivered on a bill years in the making. His current NBA roster spot is a direct result of the league pandering to his father’s influence, sacrificing a valuable spot that could be used to help the Lakers win games today. His defenders can only plead for patience and cite “potential” or “pressure,” but the reality is that he is not producing at an NBA level right now.

Stephen A. Smith was right to call out LeBron: the whole situation was never a Bronny issue; it was a LeBron issue. By scripting the journey and forcing his son into the biggest, brightest spotlight too early, LeBron guaranteed that every struggle, every scoreless night, would not be viewed as a simple growing pain, but as evidence of a manufactured career.

As Kiyan Anthony prepares to step onto the floor in the building that bears his father’s name, he will be doing something Bronny James has never truly been allowed to do: prove himself without an external script. His momentum is real, his production is verified, and his story will serve as the true blueprint for how a famous son can successfully navigate the daunting weight of a legendary legacy. Bronny’s situation, unfortunately, remains a stark warning—a tragic lesson on the devastating cost of putting influence and connection above cold, hard readiness.