I thought I was a Cavaliers fan but apparently I’m not. The moment Lebron said, “I’m-a take my talents down to south beach,” I stopped caring about the Cavs. Now I’m just super pumped to see the juggernaut that is going to be the Miami Heat. I won’t even be rooting for the Heat, I’ll just be fascinated by what they do.
It’s strange to me how people are making his decision out to be a cowardly betrayal. Sports Illustrated published an article that really railed on him. From everything I can tell, Cleveland has had bad ownership and poor management. Lebron made a decision that involves taking less money, and giving up having the spotlight to himself. He’s will score fewer points, and he will be less of a hero, and he knows that. Like all of the other greats, he’s simply interested in championships, and the Cavs were not an organization that was ever going to help him deliver on that. At Miami, I’m sure he’ll get a ring, and probably multiple rings at that. If he had stayed in Cleveland, there was a good chance he never would have won a ring.
As far as waiting until the last minute, and announcing it on ESPN, that was definitely strange, and unnecessary. But let’s not forget all the money went to charity. Furthermore, we’re talking about Lebron James here – he’s coming off of two consecutive years as the MVP, and he’s been famous since he was about 15 years old. He’s an enormous super-star, and super-stars think differently than regular humans.
I think I’ve become attached to Lebron now in the way that people will follow their favorite celebrities in gossip magazines. I never quite understood how it worked, because I’ve never been interested in the Brangelina/Lindsay Lohan/Britney Spears attachments. But I think I’m experiencing it now with Lebron. If he’s on the cover of a magazine, I’m going to pick it up and read it. If I see Lebron on TV, I’ll stop and watch, mesmerized.
Psychologically, I think the attachment stems from living vicariously through someone. I think that my brain wants to be Lebron, not consciously, but subconsiously, my brain going, “Hey, there’s Lebron! If you were Lebron, that would be you!” In all honesty, if I could pick one person to be other than myself, it would probably be Lebron. Twenty-five years old, just hitting the peak of his career, earning 100s of millions of dollars – 6 foot 8, charismatic, and best friends with people like Jay-Z and Warren Buffett. My brain says, “Hey, if you were Lebron, you’d be Jay-Z and Buffett’s friend, too!”
I woke up from a dream the other night in which Lebron and I were best friends. We were just hanging out and I’m like “yur my boy Lebron,” and he was like “Yur my boy JZ.” And then we did that basketball player hand shake, fist pound, man hug (I don’t know how it works in real life, but I had it down in the dream) and then I woke up, and that sad feeling washed over – the feeling you only get when you wake up from a happy dream and realize that it’s not real.
