Three Kings, Huh?

I feel that it is my duty and my right, as a native South Floridian, to comment on “The Decision”, as it has been dubbed. And by “The Decision”, I mean LeBron James’ selfless choice to join Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh, and whatever other mishmash of rag-tag players Pat Riley can put together on the Miami Heat.

Non-Sports Follower Guide: LeBron James is a 25-year old basketball uber-beast who has been heralded as the next great everything before he even began shaving, which was probably around eleven or twelve years old. He’s a native of Akron, Ohio and joined his “hometown” Cleveland Cavaliers right out of high school, signed a $100 million shoe contract and has since been an enormous superstar.

But I am glad that all of the suspense is over. The sports world has been talking about this for way too long. And the wait was ended in what I’m sure Clevelanders and undoubtedly Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert would see as Draconian fashion. James announced that he was “taking his talents to South Beach” in a one hour televised special. Yes, he was a free agent and technically no team could claim him as their own at the moment. But when he said those six words, all of Ohio felt like the guy who proposed to his girlfriend at a baseball game and scheduled it to be shown on the Jumbotron, and the entire stadium watched on as she said “no”.

Some have compared it to a star high school player holding a press conference to announce what university he is going to. The difference: the Cavs had paid him millions of dollars and he didn't let them know until minutes before the television special. Yeah, apparently all the proceeds went to the Boys and Girls Club. That is a wonderful and noble deed. But couldn't he just have donated the money himself? He did sign a new $110 million contract. The Clevelanders weren't feeling it, no matter how much the kids benefited.

They cried and burnt his jersey. He’s been vilified and labeled a Benedict Arnold. The Cavs owner called his choice an act of cowardly betrayal. He better keep all of his eyes open when he's anywhere in the Midwest. I understand the owner being pissed; millions of dollars just walked out his door. But to the rest of the world: GET A LIFE!

The reverberation of LeBron’s choice has many more layers than simply what occurs on the basketball court. However, I do have a few questions there, too.

a. Who else will be on the team? After signing the three biggest free agents, there isn’t a lot of money for the Heat to flesh out the rest of their roster. They’ll likely have to sign a bunch of journeymen and older players with less talent who want to ride some coattails in a quest for a ring. If they need an under-sized shooting guard with a bad knee, I’ll play for the minimum.
b. Who takes the last shot? This is an enviable position to be in, having multiple superstars who can win the game for you, but who will it be? I know from neighborhood pick-up games the value of hitting a game winning shot. Not only the game, but the amount of groupie action after the game will be weighed in the balance.
c. Will LeBron be willing to channel Magic? If LeBron takes on a more Magic Johnson-type role with this team, then the sky is a limit. He needs to realize that he has other people on his team who can drop 30 or 40 in any given night. He just needs to set the table for them and let them eat. Oh, a post up every now and then wouldn’t hurt LeBron’s game, either.

The most interesting thing to me is the Mardi Gras party that took place when he and Chris Bosh arrived in Miami. It looked like Michael Jackson came back and did a duet with Prince at the Grammys. For a second, I thought I was watching a World Cup celebration. Since when is there this amount of fanfare for fans and players before an actual game has even been played.

Imagine for a moment...

A group of guys are hanging out one night at a bar. We’ll call them Jay, Ray, and Everton. So, they all see this gorgeous woman at the bar.

“Damn, she’s bad!” Everton exclaims while twisting his face into the “I just saw a fine ass woman” look that can be mistaken for the “I just ate an entire bag of lemons” look or the “what is that putrid smell?” look.

Ray nods his head in agreement, and Jay clears his throat.

“You suckas just wait her; I’m gonna go get her,” Jay says while popping an Altoid in his mouth.

As he strides confidently over to the woman sitting in the third chair from the left edge of the bar he smiles; she smiles back.

“Hi, I’m Jay. Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, I’m having a -”

But before she can fix her lips to say Sour Apple Martini, he throws his hands up in exaltation, grabs the empty glass in front of the woman and spikes it to the ground as if he’d just scored the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl. He then runs around the bar yelling “I did it, I did it!” and “I’m the got damn man!” He makes it over to his friends and starts high-fiving and cabbage-patching in their faces.

Crazy, right?

Well, that is exactly what occurred with the Heat. You have to at least engage in some in-depth conversation first. LeBron simply let the Heat buy him an extremely expensive drink. This kind of celebration should only come after some heavy petting, i.e., at least an NBA Finals appearance.

I wonder how President Barack Obama feels. Not only were his hometown team the Chicago Bulls spurned by Mr. James, but they P. Diddied him and sampled his phrase. That’s right. The marquee flashed it, fans held signs with it printed on them, and Miami maniacs shouted it.

YES WE DID!

The same phrase that was used to commemorate the election of the United States’ first Black president was being used to celebrate some basketball players simply SIGNING with a team. No, not hyperbolic at all. No pressure there.

Alas, I’m a Heat fan. I will definitely be at some of the home games. Something of this magnitude, you just have to be a part of it. While I’m sure I’ll be watching from a point in the arena where I couldn’t decipher LeBron from Wade, or Lil’ Wayne, for that matter. Thank God for the Jumbotron. I hope I’m not in American Airlines to witness the Heat being eliminated from the playoffs.

It would be like that moment in a movie when the super villain has almost completed his plan of destroying the moon or turning all of the Earth's water into milk, but he arrogantly decides to rail off a long monologue about his plan and how he is better than the hero and there is nothing that can be done stop him. At this point, the hero frees himself and defeats the villain, the planet is saved, and the world cheers HOORAY!!!

Only this time the world, especially Cleveland, will be screaming, “Oh, no you didn’t!”