Dear LeBron,
I am not a Miami Heat fan. I am not a San Antonio Spurs fan. My allegiances are deeply rooted in my hometown teams. My veins pump Denver blood, as painful as that can be at times.
But, I do appreciate and root for greatness. True greatness that is. And that’s exactly what I thought I had found in you.
I was as vocal as anyone about my disgust with the way you handled your free agency courting period. In fact, only recently have I allowed myself to move beyond that revulsion. But, I did move past it, and I have actually become one of your biggest proponents.
And that’s what makes this letter so painful to write, and why I am kicking myself for allowing you to pull the wool over my eyes. I pride myself on being a reasonable and pragmatic man. I am not naive, nor am I gullible. I see the forest through the trees. But, somehow I didn’t see this one coming.
I wrote an entire column defending the cramps you experienced during game 1. I praised the way you bounced back in game 2 to utterly dominate the last three quarters. And then you did what you have been accused of your whole career, and what I thought you had overcome….
…you disappeared.
I was going to give you a pass for Game 3. Surely, even the great ones should be allowed to have an off game. I thought for sure you wouldn’t allow your team to crumble again in Game 4. But, that’s exactly what you did.
Sure, you had 28 points, and at times you looked like the only Heat player that wouldn’t be going to Country Buffet after the game, but I needed more from you.
If you read any of my recent columns, you will see that I hate comparing players between generations. I think it is an inherently flawed argument. But, how can I not look to the greats of the past for examples of players who picked up their team, put them on their backs, and willed them to victory?
There is no need to name names here. You know who you are up against. You know who you need to usurp for the throne. But, I gotta tell you, the incumbent/s are making you look foolish right now.
I just don’t get it. I wish I could get inside your head and understand why you lose that killer instinct in these situations. It was obvious five minutes into the game that the Spurs were on the brink of handing you another historical ass whooping.
Dwyane Wade looked like he has been eating too many HoHo’s, and could barely make it down the court. Bosh did what Bosh does, and roamed around the perimeter avoiding anything that remotely resembles physicality. Ray Allen, well he looked 38.
I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t pass to another human being for the rest of the game, or at least until somebody else proved that they had a pulse.
But you did pass. You passed on a chance to cement your place in history. And now, I don’t know if I can trust you. Part of me wants to give you another chance, but I have learned through other aspects of my life, that giving people chances opens yourself up to heartbreak. And I’m not sure I am ready for that. I am still trying to get over the Broncos Super Bowl loss after all.
The ball is in your court LeBron. Are you ready for greatness? I’m skeptical. And I’m out.
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