The scene was set for a moment of destiny, but what unfolded in Milwaukee on November 15, 2025, felt less like a dream and more like a cruel, public intervention.

For all the anticipation, all the history, and all the hype surrounding the NBA’s first father-son duo, Bronny James’s first meaningful start for the Los Angeles Lakers ended in a catastrophe of zeros. Ten minutes on the court against the Bucks, and the final box score read: zero points, zero makes, and a damning minus-six rating in a game the Lakers actually won. He clocked fewer minutes than three bench players and failed to find any rhythm, going 0-for-2, both misses from beyond the arc.

The immediate takeaway from observers and even Lakers Head Coach JJ Redick was clear: Milwaukee’s defense barely paid attention to him. They simply backed off the perimeter, daring him to shoot—a visible, humiliating strategy that confirmed the young player was not yet viewed as an NBA threat. His presence, in fact, “messed up the Lakers spacing and threw off their whole offensive rhythm.”

This wasn’t an isolated incident; it was the inevitable climax of a trajectory dictated not by merit, but by a father’s powerful, public desire. Heading into that game, Bronny’s season averages were shockingly low for an NBA player: 2.3 points and 1.9 assists over about 12 minutes per night, shooting a dismal 29.2% from the field and 25% from three-point range. As one analyst bluntly put it, “Those numbers aren’t NBA level, honestly they’re barely G-League level.”

The narrative being forced onto the league—that Bronny James was an NBA-ready prospect—had finally shattered, and the shrapnel is now landing squarely on the shoulders of the man who created the expectation: LeBron James.

The Problem of the Scripted Journey

The situation has been brewing since the moment LeBron went public with his aspiration to play alongside his son, turning what should have been a natural collegiate-to-pro development path into a “whole made for TV moment.”

Stephen A. Smith, the league’s most outspoken analyst, has not just been critical of the situation; he has gone nuclear. His criticism culminated in an explosive podcast segment where he stated, “I just want to say for the record LeBron James is full of it” and “he is a liar” in this particular instance. Smith believes that LeBron didn’t just support Bronny; he “script wrote the whole journey,” engineering his son’s NBA path into a media moment he created, rather than something the league discovered naturally.

The facts support the claim that Bronny’s path was accelerated. After suffering a serious cardiac arrest in 2023, his college tenure at USC yielded very modest numbers: 4.8 points, 2.8 rebounds, and 2.1 assists. Objectively, those statistics did not scream “NBA lottery pick,” or even a guaranteed late-round pick. Yet, the Lakers still used the 55th selection in the 2024 NBA Draft on him. The reason, everyone agrees, was the presence of his father, the most influential player of his generation, who had made it known he would follow his son.

The consequences of this decision are now plain for all to see. Bronny is constantly judged, every miss magnified, and every scoreless game lands not just on him, but right back on LeBron, “because LeBron created the expectation before Bronnie ever got the chance to define himself.” He is now “trapped under a spotlight he wasn’t ready for.” It is a quintessential cautionary tale about what happens when influence and connections are placed above true readiness and real production.

Keon Anthony: The Case for Earning It

To truly understand the toxicity of the narrative surrounding Bronny, one must look to the success story brewing just outside the Laker spotlight: Keon Anthony, the son of NBA scoring legend Carmelo Anthony.

Where LeBron pushed, Carmelo held back. The elder Anthony chose a totally different route, one that was “low-key, stayed patient, stayed out the cameras when it came to his son’s grind.” He let his son grow slowly, “cook quietly, and dominate before the whole world even paid attention.”

The results of this hands-off, production-first approach are irrefutable. Keon Anthony is not an overhyped prospect; he is a proven scorer who is “rated exactly where he should be.”

Keon announced his arrival at the Nike Peach Jam tournament, an elite showcase of AAU talent. Across eight games, he averaged an astounding 21.8 points. His undisputed breakout moment was a 40-point masterpiece against Mac Irvin Fire, where he displayed clinical efficiency, shooting 15-for-19 from the field and 5-for-6 from deep. He then took his dominance further, leading the entire NBA Top 100 Camp in Orlando with 28.5 points per game.

Scouts describe him with genuine enthusiasm: a “smooth game, clean footwork, step backs, pull-ups, floaters, deep threes—the whole bag.” He’s not simply Carmelo’s son; he is “a legit score first threat in his own right,” ranked number 36 in the ESPN 100. His eventual commitment to Syracuse University, where his father became a national champion in 2003, felt earned and authentic. He is walking into the Carmelo K. Anthony Basketball Center with real numbers, real wins, and real respect.

When Keon declared, “Now we’re going to get to working,” there was no sense of a forced moment. His journey is built on grinding, not on someone pulling strings behind the scenes.

The Blueprint of Legacy

Carmelo Anthony’s own path offers a dramatic contrast to Bronny’s current plight. Melo arrived at Syracuse in 2002-2003 and immediately became a transcendent superstar. His numbers were historic: 22.2 points and 10 rebounds per game, leading all Division I freshmen in rebounding. He didn’t just put up numbers; he delivered a championship, carrying Syracuse to their first and only NCAA title. His 33 points in the Final Four is still the record for a freshman. Coach Jim Boeheim, a veteran of three decades, called Melo “by far the best player in college basketball.”

Carmelo’s legacy, built on that singular, dominant college season, allowed him to enter the NBA as the third overall pick in the 2003 draft. The comparison to his son’s path is not lost on observers. Carmelo allowed Keon to follow a similar blueprint: dominate at the grassroots level, prove production, and enter the college environment on his own merit.

This is where LeBron—and the Lakers—failed Bronny. Instead of letting his son’s game speak first, they rushed him into the unforgiving world of the NBA. Bronny’s road to the league “wasn’t built off college numbers or a breakout season; it was built because LeBron publicly said he wanted to play with his son.”

Now, Bronny’s defenders are left to talk about “potential” and ask for patience, often citing his recovery from cardiac arrest and the impossible pressure of his surname. But critics, like the Laker fan who tweeted, “Dude is garbage and wasting a roster spot,” have a simple counterpoint: he is not producing at an NBA level, and his roster spot is blocking players who could actually help the team win games right now.

The Real Bottom Line

The zero-point start against the Bucks was more than just a bad game; it was a final, undeniable confirmation that Bronny James is in the NBA because of LeBron, full stop. The opportunity was not earned through production; it was manufactured for the sake of an emotional storyline.

Keon Anthony is walking into the next phase of his career because “he crushed AAOU circuits, averaged 21.8 points at Peach Jam and showed he’s more than just Carmelo’s kid.” His shot came from grinding, not from someone pulling strings.

This whole backlash isn’t a Bronny problem; it’s a LeBron problem. He placed his son in an impossible position, trading necessary developmental steps for a scripted moment in the history books. As Keon steps onto the floor at Syracuse, he will be doing something Bronny never got the chance to do: prove himself without somebody scripting his path.

Bronny James is undeniably more overrated than Keon Anthony—not because Keon is necessarily a better player right now, but because Keon has earned every single piece of hype he has received. Bronny’s situation serves as a stark warning to all sports parents: skipping steps can backfire fast. The dream was achieved, but the price—the long-term stability and success of Bronny’s career—is only just beginning to be counted.