Late father forever on Behrens’ mind
SEATTLE — Christian Behrens isn’t going to shave the beard. He knows it doesn’t look the way he wants. He’s aware all the whiskers don’t connect. But the patchy beard is here to stay.
His mom and sister watch his games from afar, and they can see it, too.
At noon Sunday, his mother, Andrea Montaque-Behrens, and a few friends will watch the 6-foot-8 Cal power forward and Maple Valley, Wash., native play against his hometown Washington Huskies. One person will be missing: Behrens’ father.
“We all know that his dad’s watching from the best seats in the house,” Montaque-Behrens said.
Christian and B.J. Behrens were a father-son basketball duo from the beginning. When Christian began to walk, B.J. bought him a Little Tikes basketball hoop. During an Easter brunch in Seattle when Christian was 2 years old, B.J. noticed George Karl, head coach of the NBA’s Seattle Supersonics, walking out of the same restaurant.
While bouncing Christian on his knee, B.J. shouted, “George, this is your next power forward!” Karl’s response: “Could very well be.”
“B.J. had a dream for his son,” Montaque-Behrens said.
Behrens remembers his occasionally bearded father as a caring dad who always had an answer for his son. A dad who had a sense of humor and an affinity for the Austin Powers movies. Christian’s best friend and high school teammate, Spencer Hobson, recalls how big of a sports fan B.J. was — and how he would never miss his son’s games.
“He was the most personable guy I’ve ever known,” Behrens said. “He was everybody’s friend.”
Christian was always the top player on the struggling Tahoma High School team. He averaged 20.5 points on a 1-19 team as a sophomore. Hobson said the coaches were afraid to challenge Christian. It was his show.
Around the time college recruiting letters began pouring in, B.J. started to get sick. Christian was 15 when his father was diagnosed with brain cancer. His younger sister, Rachel, was 12.
B.J.’s condition quickly declined. There were two post-surgery infections. There were headaches. He had to wear a helmet because a piece of his skull was removed. He was losing control of the left side of his body.
Early in Christian’s junior season, Tahoma faced Kentwood High School and Josh Smith, now a 6-foot-10, 350pound behemoth for Georgetown.
Christian’s knee popped trying to defend a Smith fastbreak.
He walked off the court, not yet knowing that his ACL was torn. His dad was in the stands watching the whole thing. Later that night, Christian was sitting on the couch with his dad beside him.
“He was at one of his sickest moments,” Behrens said. “I just remember him sharing my pain with me. Just being there for me. No words needed to be spoken. Even though he was sick, he understood and felt for me.”
Christian had ACL surgery on Feb. 19, 2010.
B.J. died in the night on Feb. 21, 2010.
Christian, who was on bed rest, learned of his father’s passing in the morning. He hobbled to his father’s bedroom on crutches to say goodbye.
“I had to grow up quick,” Behrens said. “I definitely learned how to be there for my sister and my mom in times where I needed to step up as a man. I had to help where I could while balancing the life of being a high school athlete.”
He returned for his senior year looking to prove he was a Division 1 college basketball player. Hobson said he became a leader. His mom said he played with more passion.
Washington recruited Behrens early on but backed off after the knee surgery. Cal cooled off during the surgery as well but recruited him hard after he returned.
“When you face the facts,” Behrens said, “It’s the No. 1 public school in the world. It’s hard to pass it up.”
Nothing about Christian Behrens’ time at Cal has been simple. In December 2012 as a sophomore, he tore the same ACL. This season as a red-shirt junior, he started the first 15 games, but Cal head coach Cuonzo Martin changed his lineup in early January in hopes of boosting the offense. While Behrens shows plenty of hustle and is known to give up his body to draw a charge, his strengths are not on offense.
On the personal side, two of Behrens’ friends have died since he’s been at Berkeley, including the February 2014 loss of Cal football player Ted Agu. He broke down and cried while speaking to his mother in a way that he never did after his father’s passing. He was strong for her then. Now he could react.
“I see the care and compassion,” MontaqueBehrens said. “He’s become such a man and a caring young gentleman.”
He still talks to his mom and sister about his father. He likes to remember the happy, funny version of his dad before he got sick. He likes to think about the Mariners and SuperSonics games they went to.
And then there’s that patchy fuzz on his face. He recently texted his mom and sister the following message: “I’m trying to grow a beard — like dad did”
He likes to think he’s becoming more and more like him.