...and so he came.
The morning after "The Decision," for breakfast I had a lot to soak in, and eat up. Care to hear the menu? Well, I started off stuffing my foot in my mouth, then once I was able to dislodge that, I had eaten my words, some crow, and topped it all of with a big slice of humble pie. Tasty, huh?
Honesty, it felt like I was dreaming because did that fool, Lebron, REALLY (really, really) say that he was coming to Miami...err correction...South Beach? To the Tray-O-Five? To...to...the Heat?? The Heat?? My Miami Heat?? I really had to take a moment to let it sink in, hence the reason I'm writing this post some 6 days later. And speaking of six....
...Pat Riley is really a Svengali if I ever seen one. That's pimp there...THAT. PIMP. THERE!! How in the HAIL did he pull that off?? Dan LeBatard, cackles the same thing, and well...I have to agree.
Yeah, still pretty much in disbelief, fostered by a bit of giddiness at the prospect of this potential MONSTROSITY of talent that is on our team. As you may recall, is a complete 180 from my last post where I REALLY (really, really) didn't want Lebron coming here. However, now that he's here, as I predicted, I find myself defending the guy, while everyone else hopped on the bandwagon that I just stepped off (nobody saw this before??). Nonetheless, here are my thoughts on the si'chi-ashun...
1) Whoooooo-Fucking-Hooooo!!! Yeeeeeeeeeah-Baby!! Alright now!! (ahem) just had to get that out of the way.
2) LeBron, you wrong. You know that, right? Hell everyone's telling you, "You wrong." I know had Dwyane did that shit to the Heat, I'd be, needless to say, HEATED! So Cavs fans I feel you. You're upset, as you should be. And for that to happen on national TV. It's worse than getting "Fi-yad" by Donald Trump on national TV, except keep the TV crew, replace Donald Trump with your real boss, and that fake Apprentice job with your real job, and then have your significant other simultaneously text you pictures of themselves piping down their new shone saying, "it's over," followed by a letter from your vet saying your dog has canine cancer. Sad :( I'm sure it felt like that, but worse. Just ask this guy.
3) There's a whole lotta sour grapes being bottled and sold as Hatorade these days, and people are drinking it up. It's funny how, if these three had assembled themselves on another squad, they'd have been hailed as the best thing since the Comfort Wipe. New York, Cleveland, Chicago, hell even L.A. would talk about how great they were if they managed to land this Big 3, more shit talking would ensue, and there would be few whispers, if any, about ego or chemistry problems. But since they didn't land on any of those teams, everyone, even fans of other teams have all of a sudden become "purists" who don't like to see the co-mingling of Franchise players on the same team. "Thug it out on your own team!" They cry. "You're buying a championship," they sob. "It's not fair," they whine. Someone should have told that to Boston a few years ago, huh? Yet, it seems no one had a problem with that, right??
Boston wasn't buying championships back then, or were they? Franchise players *cough-KG-cough* didn't stick with their teams like Jordan stuck with the Bulls, did they? It was a smart move all around, wasn't it (especially when there were championships to be won)? The difference here is that the T-Wolves, Celtics & Sonics were all lowly teams with nice (older) pieces, and the Celtics chanced out in that lucky lottery to win their Big 3. In this case, you have Cav coming off the league's best record, the Heat fearing pretty well, and the Raptors one game shy of a .500 record--not exactly NBA bottom feeders--with extraordinary pieces, guys in their prime. So when the Heat wins this lotto, everyone feels like the dealer allowed the Heat to get all the wild cards in a game of Uno, and everyone else is stuck with just a bunch of green cards, so now they want to yell, "Cheat!"
However, there was no cheating. Each man was a free-agent, and even though Riley may have been the master shuffler for this deck of cards, he couldn't force any of them, DWade included, to sign with the Heat unless he was holding a gun to their heads. (And as far as I know, no criminal charges have been brought forth.)
4) Ego. Well, I knew it though everyone else seemed to ignore it. Fact: Lebron James has an ego. Yet, NOW everyone wants to point that out, but no one noticed it when went around calling himself The King, The Chosen 1, or referring to himself in the third person. No one noticed when he punked that ball boy from Chicago. And few took offense when he stormed off the court and refused to congratulate the Magic after they got beat en route to the Finals last year. Then lest we forget his quitting in Game 5 vs. Boston; didn't bother Dan Gilbert, until last Thursday.
So now, the aforementioned team owner is predicting that LBJ's ego will follow him to Miami, and bring a plague upon our house...or Wade's house. Sure, that could be a problem, but that's where the ego stops. Wade and Ego don't exactly belong in the same sentence. Allow me a moment to tell you a little story:
Once upon a time, a little guard that could named, Dwyane actually shared his
team with one of the game's biggest prima donnas: The Big Diesel a.k.a The Big
Aristotle c.b.c The Big Baryshnikov b.k.a. The Shaqtus. Those two virtual
strangers co-existed just fine, hand in hand, with the elder statesman
oftentimes deferring to the younger, while still being able to teach him a
thing or two. The twosome went on to win an NBA championship,
with the younger grasshopper winning Finals MVP, essentially dethroning his
elder from a spot that he knew all too well. They laughed, they
cried, and they lived happily ever after, at least until the ego of
the elder showed his face again and milked his "injury" to force a trade, but
the two remain friends until this day. The end.
But Dwyane...no ego. Chris, ditto. (As far as I know) They're already friends who have played before on this little, itty-bitty competition called the Olympics, and even managed to win a Cracker Jack prized called a gold medal. This shouldn't be a problem, as it wasn't a problem with the other Big Three. Again, all this huffing and puffing, and evil wishing...it boils down to...dun-dun-dun: hate.
5) Lastly--(because this blog is getting all extra long, and I know very few of y'all actually read my mess)--everybody's scared, even Laker fans who bark extra loud. Don't believe me? Check out how they felt when Derek Fisher threatened to abandon them to come to the Heat. Yeah, their voice quivered, their lips shivered, and they were scuuuuuuuured. Everybody else though, knows that as soon as this team gels, which hopefully won't take long, the Heat will be ON, and will be perennial contenders...every year...for the next few years. Believe that, and doubt it if you want to. If y'all wanna quit watching b-ball, I'd like to see y'all try. Few people quit when Jordan was housing teams, back to back to back. I too writhed in agony seeing my Heat fall to them (or the Knicks...ugh!) But I still watched and wallowed, and can say I was privy to watch that egomaniac Jordan display some of he best balling ever. Yeah, I hated that guy too (more than LeBron), but I can't hate on the fact that he was great. And so, y'all can't either or deny that the Combo 6-3-1 will be (are) great. You'll watch, I'll watch. Some will enjoy, and I'm sure many more will hate the Heat for years to come, and rejoice their failures (much like I do the Lakers), but I'm ready for the ride.
Are you?
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