Dear LeBron,
I’m writing to you because a lot of people have misunderstood what I’ve been saying regarding you. Many people seem to think I have an issue with you. They point out, as an example, the tweet I sent to the Miami Heat congratulating them on winning the NBA title, yet stupidly doesn’t mention the best player on the team. Let me say, for the record, that there is nothing between us. I am proud of who you are and the man you have become.
You may not know it, but everything I’ve done in the past nine years I’ve done for you. I bought you a jet. I gave you a solid gold watch. I bought you the finest funny-looking European free agents money can buy. I even named my son LeBron Gilbert after you. And, after you betrayed me, I continued to look out for you. All those foolish statements about winning an NBA title before you, whining about how you let us all down, and generally behaving like a spoiled baby through all this - it was all to take the heat off you, LeBron. Yeah, it didn’t work. You’re still hated. But it was fun trying.
So, on that note, I’d like to congratulate you. You proved me wrong. I realize I have to eat crow regarding that proclamation. You know me, LeBron. I was sniffing glue, or drinking vodka, or something. Whatever. The point is, the Cavs didn’t win. You did.
So, congratulations on the wonderful job you’ve done since leaving the Cavs. You made yourself the most talked-about athlete in sports, which isn’t easy considering Tiger Woods keeps blowing leads. You proved that you don’t have to say “me” a lot to demonstrate an ego. And you demonstrated that, when the going gets rough, you have to pull your pants up (another Tiger reference) and do it all yourself. Which, if I recall, was the reason you left Cleveland in the first place.
No matter. Congratulations on being a role model for kids, something Charles Barkley didn’t want but who ended up being someone I’d much rather have my kids emulate. Congratulations on managing to tick off an entire city filled with your hometown comrades by telling them on national television that you're too good for them. Congratulations on demonstrating to an entire generation that, if you’re one of the best players on the planet, it’s okay to take shortcuts to win as long as you look good doing it. It’s a great lesson for impressionable youngsters like my son who, even now, is staring at his Kyrie Irving jersey and wondering how much he’d get for it if he forged a LeBron autograph on it.
Congratulations on winning your first title and making sure your press agent let everyone know that it came one year younger than Michael Jordan. Never mind that you’ve been in the league two more seasons. Oh, and it doesn’t matter that the flawed, suddenly-attainable Jordan never lost an NBA Finals, while you lost twice. I remember both times well. The first one hurt, but we were outmatched, and we both knew it. The second one hurt (you) even more, because I saw (your) tears and cried along with you (tears of laughter).
Finally, congratulations on finally being able to back up those boasts when you gathered with D-Wade and Bosh on that flashy, money-wasting stage that first time and declared, “not three, not four, not five, not six, not seven...”
One down. Seven to go.
Better get started.
Signed: Dan Gilbert
P.S. Jerk.
No comments:
Post a Comment