LeBron James made the “decision.”
James, dressed in a pink and white checkered shirt and Hemmingway beard, towered over grand inquisitor Jim Grey like a lumber jack. The small children in the audience were all silent.
Some have later called this moment the low point of Western Civilization. The stage was set for a public execution.
LeBron James regrets to inform us that yes, he will be playing basketball in Miami next year.
Brought to you by vitamin water.
Dan Gilbert, owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers, was forced to watch the whole mess in real time. He was jilted, sobbing alone all over his fine mahogany desk. To his credit the man handled it like a true professional. He shot himself in the foot and put it on the internet and he wrote it in comic sans.
The letter reads like an impulsive rant from a heart broken lover. It was the only thing absurd enough to make LeBron James look like a winner again. Gilbert is Kramer. An old washed up raving lunatic. Look out Cleveland a storm is coming your way.
James’ shenanigans and the media circus that followed proved in our celebrity obsessed, sports crazed culture a single player can surpass a team, an owner, and a league in terms of sheer popularity. Lebron wants to go party with his Olympic boys. He wants to win a bunch of rings his way.
Unfortunately, we were all witnesses of the tragic comedy of television that was ESPN’s the decision. We are left slightly scarred by images of depressed fans in Cleveland, leaving the bars taking to the lonely depressed Midwestern streets plague by economic depression, smoking cigarettes and burning jerseys. So much intense coverage, marketing, discussion, analysis, advertising, and for what: a crummy cultural hangover.
Next time, LeBron James: just do it.