Dollars Make Sense.

Lebron’s A Jerk.

Posted in truth. by Jason Mekkam on July 9, 2010

Poor Cleveland.

I wish my arms were longer. Cause that town could really use a hug right now. And probably a couple shots too.

My have they suffered:

The catch. The drive. The fumble. The shot. And now..

The decision.

Cleveland. America. The world. On July 8, 2010, 9 PM Eastern/6 PM Western. We were all witnesses all right. But to manufactured spectacle. Not greatness.

Know this: The farce primetime special concocted by LeBron Raymone James & Co. is the single most vile, cruel, narcissist, callous, diabolical, egomaniacal, selfish, inhumane, and ugliest act ever committed by an athlete in the history of sports entertainment. Period.

Really. Just awful.

Let’s be clear though: the crime perpetrated by Bron Bron lies not in the decision itself but in the manner in which it was all went about. On many levels the decision itself is understandable. Like the homie Joakim Noah said, I’ve heard not one person ever utter, “Hey you know where would be an awesome place to take the kids this summer: Cleveland!” Indeed, anyone who would willfully opt for the depressing and confining concrete cage also known as Cleveland over frolicking with the most gorgeous of swimsuit models in the glitz and glamour that is South Beach is tripping.

Too, I can’t blame Bron Bron for wanting to build sand castles with his buddies Dwayne Wade and Mo’at Chris Bosh in Miami. With the perks and fame, people easily forget that playing pro ball is a job, and work, no matter the occupation, is always better when the folks you’re grinding it out with on the daily are your amigos.

Even if he chose Chicago, New York, or Dickshooter, Idaho to grace with his hardwood talents, that’s all fine too. Again, it’s his career, so it’s his choice. He’s free to go wherever he pleases. I feel for Cleveland fans in their sense of claim to Bron Bron, but often feelings cloud judgment. It’s just not reasoable. As entertaining as Cavaliers’ Owner Dan Gilbert’s open letter was, talk of treason and betrayal is overdose. The guy is simply choosing to throw a rubber ball into metal rim while wearing a different jersey, not selling nuclear weapons secrets to Russia. He doesn’t owe Cleveland his lifelong servitude. However, he did owe them something of upmost import:

Respect.

Cleveland loved LeBron arguably more than any city has ever loved an athlete. Because he was all they had. After years of anguish, it was supposed to me him – their savior. The one who would finally resurrect their little city that couldn’t out of the hellish depths that is sporting purgatory. Thus they invested in him. Emotionally. Mentally. Financially. But most importantly, wholeheartedly. For seven years. Their love, never wavering, even when promises of a championship, season after season, never came to fruition. So when push finally came to shove and decisions had to be made, what did your highness do?

He hijacked their hopes and then pooped on their hearts. All in grand fashion.

By dragging out this process for nearly two years. By the blatant arrogance and dishonesty. And too by making this whole spectacle astronomically public.

Scenario:

Little Billy has had enough of little Sally and wants to end their little relationship. At recess, he goes up to her, tells its off and that he wants’ to spend more time playing kickball. Very quick and very direct. Now little Sally might be crushed. Devastated. Livid even. She might go curse his name, write naughty things about him on the bathroom stalls, and get all the other little girls on the playground to plug their nose whenever he walks by. Yet at the end of the day, we can’t fault little Billy. Because he was honest with her and with himself. As a society, that’s all we ask for.

But on the other hand..

If little Billy told little Sally, he was thinking bout breaking up her but need more decide. To totally weigh his options, he deiced to hold a Dating-Game-style competition in the cafeteria for a new boo. Then for two weeks, held everyone in suspense until he finally decided, and during the morning announcements made it known to the entire school he’d be going steady with that hussy little Tracy, well then that’s an entirely different story.

If I was little Sally’s older brother, I’d find that little Billy and beat his little ass. Because you don’t treat people like that.

Nor cities.

Bron Bron couldn’t have chosen a worse way to end his relationship with Cleveland.

That’s what’s really troubling about this whole debacle: the dishonesty. And the arrogance. One can’t proclaim himself a man of the people, and then throw said people under the bus the first chance he gets.

So I’m sorry Cleveland. You’ve been had. Hoodwinked. Bamboozled. For quite a while actually. LeBron’s a jerk. There were signs all along. That the one you so proudly called one of your own no longer wanted anything to do with you. Perhaps you were too in love to notice. Hell perhaps you were in denial. But for your sake and the sake of my own stomach, I just wish he had the guts to be upfront about it.

But on the other hand, what do you expect from a king – a person who doesn’t live to serve but rather lives to be served.

In the end, his self-proclaimed title seems all the more fitting I think.

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