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Sometimes famous genes can be a curse. John Quincy Adams became our sixth president in 1825 but suffered by comparison to his father, a founding father; he ran for re-election and lost in a landslide. A century and a half later, lofty expectations and their pop's long shadow eclipsed Nancy Sinatra, who had one hit song, and Frank Sinatra Jr., who had none. Frank the younger's greatest moment of fame arrived when he was the victim of a kidnapping. Nature or nurture? As Pliny the Elder used to tell Li'l Pliny, that's a false dichotomy. Science is just now starting to unlock the ways that genes and experience interact to make us who we are. Identical twins, who are literally the same person at conception, grow more different every day. The difference is life. Everyone starts out with a genetic template, a set of potentials that may max out or not, depending on luck and the choices made.  Nancy had one hit song. Junior had none. But Dad had it his way. Remember Moses' brother Aaron? Moses broke into the Biblical bigs by turning his staff into a snake. Aaron was not so good at miracles. His staff might wiggle a little, but it didn't scare anybody. Aaron was a lot like Tommie Aaron, who was also not as good with the stick as his brother. In a seven-year big league career, Tommie hit 13 homers, while Hank hit 755. But their genes were not so different. What explains the results? It's a question I have asked some well-connected jocks. "I dunno," said Kobe Bryant when asked if his dad's hoops background helped him. Joe "Jellybean" Bryant played eight NBA seasons before playing in Japan, and named his son after the Japanese city of Kobe. "There's a physical aspect – I wasn't small," said Kobe, who at 6'7" is two inches shorter than his dad. "But it was more the life. Traveling, seeing the world. You grow up expecting to be part of it." Dale Earnhardt Jr. had an edgier relationship with his father, who was killed in a crash just behind his son's car at the 2001 Daytona 500. "My dad wasn't around that much when I was growing up," Dale Jr. told me. "I was always trying to please him. I'm still trying to please him." Junior considered other careers, but the family business kept pulling him back – he and his dad were the Michael and Vito Corleone of Kannapolis, North Carolina. Bonds was another gifted kid whose dad was often on the road. "He never came to my Little League games," said Barry, whose attitude was I'll show him. Most telling was Griffey, who grew up tagging along with Cincinnati Reds star Ken Sr. Both Griffeys believe Junior's physical gifts were maxed out by near-perfect instruction and – just as important – the fun he had in the Reds' clubhouse, where players' kids held home run derbies using souvenir mini-bats to hit wadded-up paper cups. "By the time I got to the big leagues," said Junior, "I felt like I belonged." Great nature, great nurture. The other night Junior hit one a mile. He may still have gotten a call from his dad, offering a swing tip. As Ken Sr. sees it, even a guy with 558 home runs can learn a thing or two from the old man. Kevin Cook's book on golf's great father-son duo, the old and young Tom Morris, titled Tommy's Honor, will be published by Gotham next spring.
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Newswire 
A Team of current MLB players whose fathers also played in the Big Show. 