The Truth About Shaquille O’Neal’ Father That Broke Him Down on His Birthday
When Shaquille O’Neal turned 50, he thought the biggest surprise would be his birthday party. He was wrong. At exactly 11:47 p.m., his phone rang. The voice on the other end said something that would change everything he thought he knew about his life. That phone call would force Shaq to make the hardest decision he’d ever faced—one that would shock his family, his fans, and everyone who thought they knew the real Shaquille O’Neal.
But let’s start from the beginning.
February 27th, 2022. Shaq’s 50th birthday was supposed to be perfect. His longtime partner Annie had planned everything down to the last detail. The party was at their sprawling Atlanta estate, and everyone who mattered was there: his children, his mother Lucille, old friends from Newark, and even some of his fiercest rivals from his NBA days. The house buzzed with laughter and music. Shaq stood in his kitchen, looking out at all these people who’d become his extended family over the years. At 50, he was still larger than life—an NBA legend, a business mogul, a beloved TV personality. But tonight wasn’t about basketball or business. Tonight was about celebrating five decades of life, of growth, of becoming the man he’d never imagined that scared, awkward kid from Newark could become.
“Dad, you’re spacing out again,” his youngest son, Shaqir, said, bumping his arm playfully. At 19, Shaqir had his mother’s wit and his father’s mischievous smile.
“Mom says it’s time for cake!” called out his daughter, Me’arah.
Shaq grinned. “Just thinking, baby girl. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”
The cake was massive—three layers, with “50 and Still Dominating” written in gold frosting. Everyone gathered around, phones out, ready to capture the moment. Shaq looked around the room one more time. His mother Lucille was there, beaming with pride. His sons Shareef and Shaqir were cracking jokes with their cousins. Annie stood beside him, her hand on his back, exactly where it had been through all the highs and lows.
“Make a wish, Big Man!” Shareef called out, and everyone laughed.
Shaq closed his eyes. What do you wish for when you already have everything? Health for his family, a few more good years on TV, maybe another business venture. Simple things. Good things. He blew out the candles and the room erupted in cheers and applause.
People started cutting cake, pouring champagne, taking selfies. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. But Shaq couldn’t shake this weird feeling in his chest—not anxiety, exactly, more like anticipation. Like he was waiting for something, but he didn’t know what.
The party went on until almost midnight. One by one, guests started saying their goodbyes—hugs all around, promises to get together soon, the usual end-of-party routine. By 11:30, it was just family left. Shaq was helping clean up, stacking plates and collecting empty glasses, when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Unknown number. He almost ignored it—who calls at 11:47 p.m. on a Sunday night? Probably some crazy fan who’d somehow gotten his number. But something made him pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Shaquille O’Neal?”
The voice was older, maybe in his 60s or 70s. Calm, serious, and somehow familiar, though Shaq couldn’t place it.
“Yeah, this is Shaq. Who’s this?”
“My name is William Thompson. I know you don’t know me, son, but I knew your father.”
Shaq’s blood went cold. His father, Joseph Toney—the man who’d never been there. The ghost that had haunted his childhood. The absence that had shaped everything about who Shaq became.
“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong number,” Shaq said, his voice tight. “I don’t really want to talk about—”
“Your father didn’t abandon you, Shaquille.”
The words hit him like a truck. Shaq looked around the kitchen, making sure no one else could hear this conversation. Annie was in the living room, helping Me’arah wrap up leftover cake. His sons were already upstairs.
“What did you say?” Shaq whispered.
“Joseph Toney didn’t abandon you. He was taken from you. And I can prove it.”
Shaq’s hands started shaking. For fifty years, he’d carried the weight of being fatherless. For fifty years, he’d told himself it didn’t matter, that he’d turned out fine without a dad, that some kids just grow up that way. But deep down, in the quiet moments, he’d wondered: Why didn’t his father want him? What was wrong with him that his own dad couldn’t stick around?
“I don’t understand,” Shaq said. “Taken? What do you mean, taken?”
“Can we meet tonight? I know it’s late, but Shaquille, what I have to tell you—it can’t wait, and it can’t be said over the phone.”
Every instinct told Shaq to hang up. This was crazy. You don’t meet strangers at midnight because they claim to know something about your absent father. But something in the man’s voice, something in the way he said Shaquille’s name, made him hesitate.
“How do I know you’re not some lunatic? How do I know this isn’t some scam or some crazy fan thing?”
“Your father had a scar on his left hand, shaped like a crescent moon. He got it when he was 13, working on his uncle’s car in Newark. He used to tell me it reminded him that even broken things could be beautiful.”
Shaq dropped the phone. No one knew about that scar. No one except his mother, and she’d only mentioned it once, years ago, when Shaq was maybe 16 and asking questions about his dad. She’d said Joseph had this distinctive scar and that whenever she looked at the moon, she thought about him.
Shaq picked up the phone with trembling hands. “You still there?”
“Yes, son. I’m here.”
“How could you possibly know about that?”
“Because Joseph and I were best friends for 30 years. Because I was there when he got that scar. And because I was there the night he died.”
“Died?” Shaq’s voice cracked. “He’s dead?”
“Shaquille, your father died three months before you were born. He never knew you existed. He never knew Lucille was pregnant.”
The kitchen started spinning. Shaq grabbed the counter to steady himself. All these years he’d imagined his father out there somewhere, maybe with another family, maybe just choosing not to be involved. The idea that his dad was dead, that he’d been dead this whole time, that he’d never even known Shaq existed—
“That’s impossible,” Shaq whispered. “My mother would have told me.”
“Your mother thought Joseph abandoned her. She never knew he died. She spent months trying to reach him, calling his friends, even driving to places they used to go together. But Joseph was already gone.”
“But why?” Shaq’s voice was barely audible. “Why didn’t anyone tell her? Why didn’t you tell her?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Because I was in prison, Shaquille. And by the time I got out five years later, Lucille had moved. You’d been born. You were this little kid running around, and I thought maybe it was better to let sleeping dogs lie. Maybe you were better off not knowing.”
“Not knowing what?”
“Not knowing that your father died trying to get back to your mother. Not knowing that he was coming to tell her he wanted to marry her when his car went off the road in that storm. Not knowing that the last thing he said before he died was your mother’s name.”
Shaq was crying now, standing in his kitchen surrounded by birthday decorations and leftover cake, crying for a father he’d never met and a love story he’d never known existed.
“Mr. Thompson,” he managed to say, “where—where are you?”
“I’m in Atlanta. I’ve been here for three days, working up the courage to call you. I know this is a lot. I know this changes everything. But Shaquille, I’m 78 years old, and I can’t take this secret to my grave. Your father was a good man. He loved your mother. And if he’d lived, he would have loved you more than life itself.”
Shaq looked toward the living room, where his family was finishing cleaning up, where Annie was probably wondering why he’d been on the phone so long. His beautiful, perfect life—the life he’d built on the foundation of being strong enough to succeed without a father.
“Can you come here?” Shaq asked. “Can you come to my house? I need to see you. I need to see whatever proof you have.”
“Are you sure? Once you know the truth, you can’t unknow it. Once you understand what really happened, everything changes.”
Shaq wiped his eyes and looked around his kitchen one more time. At 50 years old, he thought he knew exactly who he was. But maybe, just maybe, there was still more to discover.
“Yeah,” he said firmly. “I’m sure. Come over. Let’s finish this story.”
As Shaq gave William Thompson his address, he realized this wasn’t just the end of his 50th birthday—this was the beginning of understanding who he really was, where he really came from, and what it really meant to be Shaquille O’Neal. The truth he was about to learn was so much more beautiful and heartbreaking than he’d ever imagined.
Shaq honors his dad’s dying wish and takes care of his family
You can bet that looking back, Hall of Fame basketball behemoth Shaquille O’Neal has many friends, coaches, and teammates to thank for his massive success. Yet, there’s none bigger than Phillip Harrison, who married his mother Lucille O’Neal when Shaq was just two.
The Person Who Was Shaquille O’Neal’s Biggest Influence
Photo by Edgar Chaparro on Unsplash
Speaking with TNT, O’Neal recalls his drill sergeant dad using a stern hand to keep him out of trouble. “My father used to come to class and whoop me in front of everybody. Yeah. Long time ago. But, I was a major, high-level juvenile delinquent that could’ve definitely been in trouble all the time.”
With a little introspection, O’Neal was thankful for it, adding, “that’s why he knew that all the tactics he used on me would definitely work. And it did work.”
However, it would take one tragic event to show just how strong and magical his father’s impact actually was.
The Big Decision Shaquille O’Neal Had to Make After His Dad Died
Shaq was rocked by tragedy when his father passed away. With it, his father’s impact on his discipline, success, and values — as a player and as a person — truly hit home. It was a jarring blow even for the man nicknamed ‘Superman.’
Yet O’Neal would have a chance to thank his father, even though he wouldn’t be around to see it. Shaq explained that before passing, Harrison asked him to make a promise to take care of his family.
My father taught me not to really cry and be sad, so when he passed away I really let it go, because I didn’t get to tell him thank you enough.
Shaquille O’Neal
As he’s done so many times on the court, O’Neal stepped up, using that as motivation to honor his memory in an unforgettable fashion.
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From that moment forward, the O’Neal family franchise was in good hands.
So now that the don is gone, second in charge, which is me, I protect them and provide for my family. My brother’s and sister’s family. My mother’s family. It’s what you got to do.
Shaquille O’Neal
Above all, Shaq’s biggest gift to them is the same love and support he showers his six children.
Strict as he was, it’s clear that Shaq’s father left a legacy that will live on. It proves that the most priceless thing you can leave your children are values that enrich others. That’s the kind of highlight reel we should all strive for.
There’s no doubt that Shaq has made his father proud.
