They were looking at the Big Apple.

Except for Stephen A. Smith. A notable  media personality who predicted James would land in Miami weeks before “The Decision” sent shock waves through the nation. A notable sportswriter  who was perhaps dismissed because of his vociferous silver-tongued style.

Or maybe the Windy City?

Except for Pat Riley. The Giorgio Armani styled don of swag, frequently referred to as Mr. GQ, cautioned the Miami Heat fans to buy their season tickets even as the empty seats began to grow in the AAA after Shaq’s departure. (And I would have Pat, but I was a frugal graduate student. Marx, Nietzsche, Foucault–those books add up!)

It seemed a foregone conclusion. Hometown hero, hometown boy. King stays in Cleveland.

Except for me. An honest, hardworking, but parsimonious graduate student. A graduate student perpetually stressed out from her thesis, haunted by nightmares in which my thesis committee hee-hawed at my attempts to form a sentence. I managed to write an article about the possibility of the two teaming up in Miami, created a brief video on youtube, and tweeted Skip Bayless expressing my hunch: LBJ to MIA. Imagine my surprise when Skip actually responded!

Flash back to Thursday night. “The Decision” garnered outrage and shock. King James was nothing but a traitor. A deceptive coward who deserted his team, his fans, and Cleveland for the allure of South Beach. The love for Lebron in Cleveland disappeared faster than a handful of ice-cold popsicles at a summer youth camp. James’ final answer: “I’ve decided to take my talents to South Beach…” left a bitter taste in Dan Gilbert’s mouth, thicker than that BP oil and just as hard to contain. Perhaps Gilbert’s reaction is understandable when one considers that his franchise is as worthless as a box of Cracker Jacks even with the mystery surprise inside.

But the biggest shock in this is that no one expected James to choose Miami.  Folks, trust me, it was staring us all right in the face. Besides the fact that there is no state income tax (which means that not only is James’ contract money tax-free, but as soon as he changes his legal address to Miami all of his money-endorsements from Nike, Vitamin Water, etc. is, you guessed it, tax-free. James is actually going to make a few million dollars more in South Beach than he would have in Cleveland), James is a vibrant, attractive, 25-year-old man. When James sat down to write that Pros versus Cons list, he began to realize that Cleveland simply could not hold a torch to Miami.

But it is more than just that. Everything in James’ life has shown us that Miami is the perfect place for the King to land. Watch James’ documentary “More Than a Game” and you will understand why. While watching it,  I realized that James is, quite frankly, the furthest thing from Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant. Sure, Jordan had Pippen, Rodman, and the rest of his cohorts to help him win those titles, but it was clearly Jordan’s team. And Jordan liked it that way. Jordan relied upon his teammates because, after all, this is a team sport. Still, if Jordan could have found a way to win those championships by himself….Say,  by cloning himself numerous times, he would have jumped at the chance. In his recent Hall of Fame acceptance speech, an older Jordan reminded us all that he had not lost that self-absorbed quality that produced greatness, insisting that “there is no I in team, but there is an I in win.”

And Kobe. Aah, Kobe. The epitome of selfish is a player unafraid to jack up shot after missed shot simply because he does not believe his teammates can actually make the shot. Kobe ran Shaq out of Los Angeles faster than Elin ran Tiger Woods out of the house. The Los Angeles love triangle culminated in Kobe demanding that Jerry West pick him or Shaq. Kobe, as victorious as a mistress snatching the philandering husband from the soon-to-be-ex-wife’s clutches, forced Shaq to move on and rebuild with another team.

Both Jordan’s and Bryant’s attitudes yielded extreme success. In the process, however, these attitudes have also redefined our conception of competitiveness; to be a true competitor is to be able to do it alone.  One of the harshest criticisms leveled against Lebron post “The Decision” is that the flight to Miami proves that he cannot win the big one by himself. The reasoning here is that James needs Wade to dim the spotlight shining on him. Maybe. But people seem to forget that the spotlight has been glaring brightly on James since his high-school debut.  When most teenagers were popping pimples, James graced the cover of Sports Illustrated as “The Chosen One” and appeared on ESPN–all before his eighteenth birthday.  Pressure is understanding that the road leading out of housing projects, drugs,  and prison is through basketball.  Pressure is realizing that although your mother loves you dearly,  she cannot free you from a life of instability.

Pressure is not about whether you win that championship game or even hit that game-winning shot as the clock ticks down. James has already achieved something few black men achieve–he ”made it” out of the housing projects in Cleveland and into the penthouse suites of Miami.

It is only fitting that James views the basketball court as his home. As a child, he bounced around more than a basketball. The “More Than a Game” documentary reveals that basketball became a built-in family, complete with brothers and a father he never had. Even reporters observing the Cleveland Cavaliers were struck by the team’s unparalleled chemistry. Although the pre-game warm ups were indeed sophomoric, it was reminiscent of  locker-room antics between high-school athletes, or the close-knit quality between a large family.  James and his teammates seemed to be sharing inside jokes that to the outside world looked immature, but also seemed to say, “You have to be here to understand. Then you would know how what this means to us.”

My point for all of this is not to suggest that James is a better athlete than Kobe or Jordan. Joachim Noah was right to be angered by the shenanigans on the sidelines.  My point is to suggest that James is a better team player than Kobe and Jordan. And, more importantly, that James’ decision offered him a chance to play a team sport with two of his favorite team players.  When James dons that crisp Heat jersey, he is not shirking from the pressures of wearing the crown. Rather he reminds us that basketball is a team sport.  As soon as Jordan hung up the jersey, the search for the next Jordan was on. We were thirsty for that fade-away jumper, that pull-away that only Jordan could hit. Five player teams became extinct. Like supermodels, one name superstars became all the rage. Tyra. Carmelo. Cindy. Kobe.  Naomi. Lebron.  The NBA  became a one-man show with superstar athletes preening and strutting their stuff. Sure, superstar athletes surrounded themselves with role players, but superstars like Kobe make sure that these role players never outshine him.

And the NBA has suffered because of this “all about me” mentality.  TV ratings are consistently lower than the NFL and baseball.  There are a number of reasons for this, but  it has a little something to do with the lack of true teams in the NBA.  “True teams” like the 2008 Boston Celtics and the 2004 Detroit Pistons  remain impressive because there was no clear superstar. These teams were like watching a giant swarm of bees operating as a single mass.

I do not know what will happen this season. I do not know if James’ phantom elbow will make a cameo appearance in the playoffs. I am hoping that Gilbert’s  malevolent curse is as harmless as the South Florida breeze–fleeting and full of hot air.

My own sense of prescience makes me believe that, one day,  we will realize that James did not crumble under pressure and take the easy way out.  James’ actions prove that not only can he play with Wade while keeping his ego in check, but that he desires to play with great players to reach his highest level of athletic prowess. James covets that sense of camaraderie that is unnecessary in solitary sports like tennis and golf, but absolutely fundamental in team sports.  Miami presented James with the best chance to win a championship and the best chance to build a family on the court.  Isn’t that what teams are supposed to be? Isn’t this the same close bond Spartan warriors developed while preparing for battle?  Separated from their biological family members, their brethren became their adopted family. Did this diminish their fierce competitiveness?

Welcome to the family, Lebron.

It was an innocuous question asked by one of my friends on Facebook. 

The Real Deal

Everyone knows I have an aversion to all things Kobe.  My hatred for him is so natural I never really consider why I hate him. It’s as natural as liking the color pink,  or hating the prickly taste of pickles–you do not know why you do, you just do. 

Kobe Bryant is on my hate list because of the constant comparisons to Michael Jordan. And, I am not just talking about lame sportscasters or columnists (Jemele Hill, what were you thinking?), but friends and family that refuse to see Kobe for the imitator that he is. During the NBA Finals half-time show, Kobe revealed his passion for studying Oscar Robertson, Jerry West, MJ, Magic, and other greats. Kobe, flashing his trademark smile, said, “I guess you could say I copy a lot of my moves.”  Therein lies the problem. 

There is nothing signature about Kobe’s style. Everything that he does has been done by

The Imitation

someone else, only that someone else perfected these moves. His pull-up jump shot, his fade away, his cross-over–Kobe Bryant is Michael Jordan’s bizarro.  Remember that episode of Seinfield where Jerry explains to Elaine that  Bizarro is Superman’s exact opposite,  living in a bizarro world where up is down, and down is up? Sounds crazy? 

Think about it, Kobe’s father is Joe “Jellybean” Bryant, former pro NBA player. Most people don’t even know the name of  Michael’s father, let alone his profession. Yet  James Jordan’s son  became  (arguably) the greatest player on the court. Kobe is decidedly cocky during his post-game interviews, letting everyone know that he is not remotely interested in what people think about him. Jordan played the media like a fine-tuned six-string guitar; you never knew about “the incident” with Steve Kerr,  his womanizing, and while there was a whiff of his penchant for gambling,  it was not enough to cause ripples. Michael had role players. Kobe has a full bail-out plan (Quick trivia question: where would the Lakers be if Artest had not saved Kobe’s air ball against Phoenix? And, what about Derek Fisher–the real closer last night? Could Boston have taken a 2-1 lead?). Kobe proves during the Finals, with the game on the line in the fourth quarter, that he knows a lot more than how to speak Italian, but also, that he has mastered the art of magic. Like a poof of smoke, Kobe disappears. Arriverderci!  

Kobe has been studying this game since he was three, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with being a student of the game.  A few superstars  need to follow his lead. (Ahem, Dwight Howard.) But it’s as though Kobe is an actor remaking a classic film; he does not know how to own the role by adding his special touch to it. Or, maybe the problem is that Michael Jordan’s skills on the court can not be duplicated. Think Casablanca.  There are numerous Casablanca sequels and prequels. Yet everyone remembers the Casablanca with Humphrey and Ingrid.  Something tells me that a remake of Casablanca with Brad Pitt saying to a misty-eyed Angelina Jolie, “Here’s looking at you, kid” might be a blockbuster hit among drooling pubescent boys and hopeless romantics. But others would shout, or perhaps scream, that you simply cannot remake a classic! 

Memo to Kobe: Jordan is off-limits. And not because Kobe is not the greatest player alive (because the greatest of all time retired), but if you are going to remix a classic, then the remix must be better than the original. Not nearly, almost, or just as good–better. 

Kobe wants so badly to replicate what he studies on-screen that he does not play his game. This is the lure of Lebron James, and why, despite all claims to the contrary, that his ”King James” moniker will not fade. James plays his game–he slashes to the rim, chases down lay-ups from the other end of the court, barrels to the rim like a football player. James is so spectacular because we have never seen a player with that speed and uncouth style that seems more suitable for the gridiron than the court. Lebron’s uncouth style is distinctly his own. Kobe’s style is like a borrowed hand-me-down sweater that sags in places where it fit your brother or sister just right. 

And while Kobe is still hitting impossible shots and eyeing another championship, he will always live in Michael’s shadow, because he refuses to cultivate his own style. Everyone is always going to see Michael in Kobe; Kobe deliberately does so much that reminds us of Michael. Sadly, this  only diminishes Kobe’s legend as Michael lives on through Kobe’s fade away jumper, which  becomes lackluster when reviewing Jordan’s ballet-like fade away. 

When you think of great players, you think of the unique talent that each individual brings to the game. Kareem had the sky hook. Jordan had the deadly fadeaway jumper. What custom (tradmark) move do you think of when musing about Kobe’s talent? Good, got that move stored in your head? Wait, no, there’s a problem? Michael Jordan’s voice keeps bumping into your thoughts, saying: “That’s not his move, man. He stole that from me.” The same thing happens to me, because all Kobe Bryant does is remind us of all how great Michael Jordan was. And,  how far from “His Air” Kobe falls.

 Mix about 5 crossovers with:

 one spin move, and a reverse layup.

And, voila!  You have a recipe for broken ankles!

Will the Real Jeff Van Gundy Please Show Up?

Which leads me to my next point: does anyone have a problem with Jeff Van Gundy as the commentator for the Orlando Magic?

I do. I think Van Gundy’s commentary is honest, hilarious, and at times, eccentric–I love it.  But pay close attention to the next game. When the game gets close or Stan makes a bonehead decision, Van Gundy’s nasal voice disappears faster than Lebron did  in Game 5 against the Celtics.  In fact, there are long stretches where Mike Breen is the only voice being heard. I know Breen does the play-by-play and Van Gundy’s job is to provide the interesting anecdotes, but the chemistry between Breen, Jackson, and Van Gundy seems tense and forced, almost as though Jackson feels a bit uncomfortable saying anything negative about Van Gundy because he doesn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, particularly Jeff Van Gundy’s toes.

Again, I enjoy Van Gundy’s frank analysis. And there is nothing wrong with the Van Gundys showing each other a little brotherly love. But I want the old Jeff Van Gundy back–the one who isn’t afraid to criticize the coach, lazy players, and celebrities caught picking their nose on the Jumbotron (this hasn’t actually happened yet, but I am sure if it did, Van Gundy would say: “That’s just nasty–I don’t care if she is Beyonce”).

The Van Gundy brothers can reunite at the next family reunion, not during the NBA Finals.

Can they do it?

Okay, so the Cleveland fans are bitter, angry, and probably clutching their teddy bears. sobbing. Why? Why? First, Ehloe. Now THIS! And I am just about to make things a bit worse for them. I want Lebron to come to Miami.  Need I say why? If Lebron decides to join the Miami Heat, not only will I get a chance to (possibly) see him frolicking on sandy South Beach, but I am sure Wade will stay and Riley will coach these two superstars to victory.  This is a chain reaction that will pay major dividends for Miami fans. I can picture it now….

So, please sign my petition:  http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.petitionspot.com%2Fpetitions%2Flbjtomia&h=b1152 

We’re bringing the King to Miami–Cleveland can’t handle him; Miami, Wade, and Riley can.

Is he a leader?

Lebron is king of the court; we are all just spectators.  

Lebron is the chosen one.  

Lebron is comparable to Oscar Robertson, Magic Johnson, and the greatest of all time.  

Turn on your television, listen to your local sports talk radio, or  eavesdrop on a pick-up game of basketball during a water break and you will probably hear all of these comments. Some of these statements are true. Some are gross exaggerations.  

James is rarely ever described as spoiled rotten. Sportswriters have written about the fact that James owned a $80,000 Hummer before he turned 19. Joakim Noah  would probably prefer James practiced his samba on Dancing with the Stars. Deshawn Stevenson practically stepped into a land mine when he called James’ game “overrated”. Stevenson’s small comment ignited a war of words with, arguably, one of the greatest rappers of all time and Soldier Boy. Poor Stevenson did not stand a chance.  

So, it’s understandable that few eagerly travel down the path of criticizing Lebron’s game. Sure, he is a phenomenal, one-in-a-million player.  

But if you watched the third game of the Cleveland-Boston series, you would find there is much to criticize about King James. Late into the second half, James penetrated inside with at least two white jerseys smothering him, drawing contact. No foul. James, however, did not shake his head and run back up the court as Kobe Bryant frequently does. Instead he stood looking like a stubborn child refusing to play after being tagged “it”. Except there was no one there to coax him back into the game. The result: the Celtics rushed the boards to take advantage of James’ first-grade behavior. All players get angry when they slash to the hoop and do not get a trip to the foul line; every once in a while Kobe’s ice-cold exterior melts away. But  the Cavs aren’t leading the series by three games, and this is not the regular season–the number one seed in the East are in trouble, guys. The Celtics have been here before. It’s going to be a dog fight, folks. The Celtics will not go calmly into the dark night; they might just limp and drag their way into the third round of the playoffs. The Cavs’ trouble has nothing to do with Lebron’s elbow and  a little something to do with Lebron’s maturity on the court.  

Early in the first half, Lebron hit a tough jumper that caused Mark Jackson to refer to him as “Picasso”. Lebron’s “artwork” even impressed himself; he turned to scowl at the crowd just before emitting a noise that ,if translated, would be something like: “Woo-wee! Did you see that? I mean, I did not know I could do that! It’s just  so pretty!” Pretty as it was, Lebron is going to need more than just a barrage of  awe-inspiring shots to win this series, and  a possible  match-up with the Magic. It’s the shots that we expect Lebron to make that matter. The missed free-throws. The lay-ups. This is why Kobe Bryant, even as the arthritis begins to set in as he enters his thirties, is still unstoppable. Kobe makes the shots a leader should make; no one is surprised–it’s what a leader does. Nothing fancy. Just gripping the ball, sluicing in between two competitors, and laying it up gently.  

Cue the Akron Hammer fans: but what about the injury? They’ll say surely something is not quite right about James ever since that dreaded elbow twinge during the Bulls-Cavaliers series.  Sorry, Hammer fans, but this is an easy point to refute: the leading team physician defined the injury as not serious.  Certainly, James is experiencing legitimate pain and is not 100%.  But James  has to find a way to play through the pain (See: Grant Hill, Kevin Garnett, Ray Allen, Kobe Bryant, etc.), but he also has to find a way to lead his team through the pain. . Teaching your teammates how to do the stanky-leg is not it. Motivating your team through your actions on the court is proven to guarantee better results.  

A king is more than just in charge of his subjects. A king has a right, a duty to counsel his subjects to make the right decisions for the rest of the group. A wise man once said: “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Growing up in Ohio, shining on the basketball court and football field, Lebron  knew he stood to benefit immensely for his athletic prowess. Now it’s time to mature and take on the responsibilities that come with the crown. Then, one day, he can revel in the moment and realize that it really is good to be king.

Too cute! I love it!!

I forgot.

I forgot the dogged determination that fueled the machine.  Michael Jordan took center stage tonight to accept his Hall of Fame award. But he did more than just that. Michael took this opportunity to show us he hasn’t forgotten all  the naysayers.

This is not the same man who spoke so calmly and professionally during basketball conferences. Michael cursed. Michael verbally abused Byron Russell (as if he needed to do it again), talked trash about Stockton, Isaiah, and Magic.  He criticized Dean Smith for his refusal to allow Michael Jordan to grace the cover of Sports Ilustrated. Remember, Dean Smith? Yes, that Dean Smith, his beloved North Carolina coach.

In my house, there is a saying we use when you verbally destroy your opponent–we call it “telling” someone off. Michael “told off” everyone who ever doubted him. He called out his high-school coach for choosing Leroy Smith in the TENTH GRADE! Tenth grade, folks.  He called out Rod Thorn and Jerry Krause for choosing the organization over him.  I was scratching my head and wondering if this was actually a “roast” instead of an induction ceremony.

Michael Jordan contemptuously smirked at the notion of a team being bigger than the player. “There is no I in team,” Michael sarcastically spit out the words as if they burned his mouth, “but there is an I in win.”

Michael Jordan made his case for why he is the best player to play the game–period. What’s more, Michael proved that he was larger than the game of basketball.As Michael alluded to tonight, the Hall of Fame isn’t sufficient to hold Michael Jordan’s legacy; Michael needs a museum so we can all remember what he meant to not just the game, but to us. Michael made us believe again. During those four short quarters, we believed nothing was impossible.

Tonight just made me want to be like Mike all over again. He’s like a fine wine–his passion for the game is intoxicating. Passion that just gets better with time.

Fields trains for the 2012 Paralympics.

Except Sgt. Jerrod Fields wasn’t talking about a blue summer sky or some mundane topic; he was telling a reporter about his encounter with a roadside bomb in Baghdad, Iraq.  In 2005, while serving for the  U.S. Army, Sgt. Fields was on a routine reconnaissance mission with his platoon. The routine mission left Fields’ leg badly mangled and facing a tough decision: amputation or 22 operations to fuse his ankle with his leg,  Fields opted for amputation below the knee. Fields’ primary reason for his decision? He would not be able to play basketball.

Not only has Fields resumed playing basketball at a Chicago summer recreational league, he won a gold medal at the 2009 Endeavor games and is already training for the 2012 Paralympics. Throughout it all, Fields remains grateful, saying “I’m just happy to be alive…those bombs aren’t made to take limbs–they’re made to take lives.”

Sgt. Jerrod Fields of the U.S. Army World Class Athlete Program does squats on his prosthetic lower left leg during a weight-training workout at the U.S. Olympic Training Center

Thank you Sgt. Fields, Brandon,  Artreese, Ernso, and all the other women and men serving in the armed forces. Thank you for risking your lives and being away from your families so that I can share moments with my family.

Sgt. Jerrod Fields–we’ll see you in 2012! I’m rooting for you! (Usain Bolt isn’t the only fastest man running)!

U.S. Army World Class Athelte Program Paralympic sprinter hopeful Sgt. Jerrod Fields, seen here working out at the U.S. Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista, Calif., won the 100 meters with a time of 12.15 seconds at the 2009 Endeavor Games in Edmond, Okla., on June 13.

McNair was found shot to death.

Former Baltimore Raven and Tennesse Titan quarterback, Steve McNair, was found shot to death in an apartment in Nashville, Tennessee.  Two bodies were discovered; one body has been confirmed as Steve McNair but the identity of a female body has not yet been confirmed. Police are investigating the crime scene as the wound was a fatal gunshot to the head. McNair retired in 2007 and is the second black quarterback to go to the Superbowl.  I remember watching McNair scramble on the grid iron and we share the same birthday; he will be missed and my condolences are with the McNair family. McNair was 37 years old.