Last night LeBron James brought an end to the LBJ Sweepstakes during a self-serving, egotistical announcement disguised as a fundraiser for the Boys and Girls Club that left 4 cities clinging onto the wrong ticket.
New York tore their ticket apart, realizing its plan to rejuvenate Madison Square Garden now rests in the hands of Amare Stoudemire. Chicago tossed theirs into the trash, right next to their dreams of 3-peats, and their bid for the 2016 Olympics. New Jersey tried swapping theirs for two tickets to Jay-Z's next concert.
Cleveland, meanwhile, stood silent wondering if the city itself might sink into Lake Erie.
The divorce between Cleveland and LeBron will sting the city in all the obvious ways—empty seats at the Q, a crippled downtown economy, a poignant sense of betrayal, and a dramatic evaporation of hope that hasn't been felt since Renteria chopped one up the middle in Game 7 of the World Series. Had Lebron renewed his vows with Cleveland, the storybook ending of a local kid saving the city would still have life. Instead, "The Decision" is just the latest chapter in the painful, non-fiction thriller titled Cleveland Sports, written by a collection of authors that include the likes of Jose Mesa, Art Modell, Michael Jordan, and Earnest Byner.
LeBron had a chance to write his own story, about his own team, in his own town. A chance to take his tremendous talent, a tortured town, and mold them into a legacy that eliminates any question of where he falls on the totem pole of NBA greats. Not to mention being revered as the greatest home-grown prodigy the city of Cleveland ever laid eyes on. But he chose to take that opportunity and toss it aside, like the powder he hurls into the air during his pre-game ritual.
The decision to join Wade and Bosh on the beaches of Miami changes much more than the landscape of Cleveland, or the legend of LeBron. It changes the backdrop of the NBA, and it will alter professional sports, as we know it. The days of epic battles between Magic and Bird—battles that symbolize competition and epitomize the hunger to win—have officially been replaced with fuzzy-feeling friendships. Then, winning was all that mattered. Now, winning plays second fiddle to being hip.
Many argue that James' decision is an attempt at just that—winning. But jumping on Wade's bandwagon down in Miami won't necessarily make him a winner. If LeBron wanted to do both—leave AND win—he would have went to Chicago. The Miami Heat is Wade's team, and that is never going to change. The "super-trio" might win, but LeBron will be seen much more as a contributor than he will be a winner. Sort of a strange role for a guy who sits on a throne and goes by the name of King, no?
The anticipation of LeBron's decision to spark the free agency "domino effect" was just as big of a bust as his years spent in Cleveland. Hell, the majority of dominoes had already fallen prior to "The Decision." Wade, Bosh, Boozer, Pierce, Johnson, Nowitzki, Stoudemire, and Ray Allen all secured deals before LeBron announced his intention to fly south. LeBron, as it turns out, was actually the last domino to fall. The King followed the Court.
A real King would have summoned his troops back to Cleveland. LeBron, on the other hand, played the pawn. He openly expressed his desire to serve D. Wade down in South Beach, and he did it in a manner that was almost as uncomfortable as it was uncalled for. Fare thee well, Prince.
The real domino effect of LeBron's decision won't be linked to the 2010 NBA free agency campaign. Rather, it will slowly spill into the world of professional sports, corroding what we have all grown to love. When The Chosen One, himself, chooses to join forces, rather than compete against them, others will surely follow suit. Today's athletes would never mimic Chris Bosh by shipping off to a city where they can hold hands with another superstar. Why? Because he's not even that good. But when LeBron James does it, it automatically becomes an acceptable practice. Not only is LeBron great, he's a global icon. And with that following, the spirit of rivalry, and true passion for competition—the roots upon which these games have been built—will ultimately whittle away.
There is a fine line between being made a spectacle of (which, in LeBron's defense, has been the case for the majority of his career), and making a spectacle of yourself. James certainly crossed that line when his camp announced the premiere of "The Decision." The only chance to cross back over that line was to profess his loyalty—in front of a national audience—to the city of Cleveland. The city he grew up in. The city that has adored him since his sophomore year at St. Vincent St. Mary. Pledging his allegiance, and restoring much needed hope, quickly erases any resentment for the ESPN-escapade.
Unfortunately, for the city of Cleveland, that didn't happen. But, that goes without saying. We were all witnesses.
