Around the middle of this year, I was very excited. There were a few reasons for this. I was killing it personally, professionally and metaphysically, for starters. But there was something more. I was excited by the prospect of basketball prodigy, LeBron James, leaving his Cleveland team in free agency and landing with my beloved New York Knickerbockers – the greatest franchise in professional sports.
You see, LeBron had all of the tools to kill it. Oh yes. He had the 6’9, 130kg frame. He had the speed of a gazelle, the skill of a mason and the court vision of a thousand hubble telescopes, pointed at the stars. But something happened. Amid all the hype of his free agency, LeBron neglected to shoot for immortality of the NY market, or even the loyalty of staying with his hometown Cleveland side.
He instead, acted like a bitch, a witch and a snitch, and joined the Miami Heat – hiding behind the considerable talents of two of his friends and opting for warmer climates, latin womens and Will Smith songs.
I was sitting at work when this happened. I slammed my hands on the keyboard and howled at the cubicle next to me. I spilt my cup of Earl Grey team onto my chest, and tore open my business shirt. I cried and I spat, and I incised a bunch of tiny cuts onto my arms to try and dull the mental anguish of the best player in basketball not only spurning my team and the team of his birth city, but spurning the once in a generation chance to become the best player of all time; something which would now surely not happen thanks to the cop out South Beach.
This however was a mild response – compared with the people of Cleveland. His #23 jersey was burned in the streets, effigies were defiled, and youtube viral videos were created in response to his Nike ads. All in all, Cleveland killed it on the killing it count, and LeBron killed it in the declining cult of personality count.
But how the gods smile on those of us who kill it. The Miami Heat experiment is burning out before it’s beginning and LeBron is crying like a tiny, 63 year old looking baby and trying to get his coach fired.
And the best part? With a sub-standard 10-9 record, the Miami Heat are now taking their satanic roadshow to Quicken Loans arena – the home of LeBron’s former team the Cavaliers.
What do the home fans have in store for us? The much maligned fans of the cursed franchise will be out in force to jeer at the jumping Judas and batter basketball’s Benedict Arnold with verbal and physical abuse.
It’s going to be great