Last night, the Miami Heat, “lead” by LeBron James, fell to the Dallas Mavericks in game six of the NBA Finals and no one in the world celebrated more than the city of Cleveland. You see, Cleveland has been acting like a woman scorned and a man wronged even since King James took his talents elsewhere after spending SEVEN YEARS playing for the Cleveland Cavaliers. As one comedian said, Cleveland was doing drive-bys of the American Airlines Arena where the Heat play. The city could not let it go.
Seven years with one team in any professional sport is basically the equivalent of a Hollywood marriage lasting fifty. In other words, it’s rare. Countless players are traded without a say in where they go and often being notified that they are “re-locating” by some source other than the team itself. I understand LeBron was special, and he gave Cleveland, in all likelihood, the best seven years of his career. He was a great citizen and brought vitality to a city that is often (unfairly) considered where one goes to die. Besides, LeBron owed Cleveland nothing, so there never should have been this weird sense of ownership of him in the first place. It’s understandable to be a fan of a player. It’s quite another thing to have gathering where you burn that players jersey when he leaves town.
So listen up, Cleveland. Enough drunk dialing and crying into the phone at 2 a.m. No more texting long diatribes about how much you hate LeBron. You’ve already ripped up all the pictures of him and cut his face out of the ones he was in but that you like of yourself. And you’ve certainly drown your sorrows in enough beer to drown an elephant. The best way to get over a player is to get under one, so don’t fuck up your draft pick. There are some good guys out there, so quit acting like the crazy ex so one of them will come play with you.