Halfway Down and Out: The king and me
In two hundred years, they will be able to tell you the exact moment at which I swore allegiance back to LeBron James.
It happened in the summer of 2012 when LeBron finally hoisted the Larry O’Brien trophy for the first time; I myself had just graduated from college and was living with my 18-year-old girlfriend in a small room in her grandparents’ garage, copping yay at our immense amount of toking and fucking.
One night, I convinced Bae that we had to watch the Celtics vs. Heat in the Eastern Conference Finals, featuring one LeBron James.
Bae asked me WHY.
I told her it was because of The Decision.
I told her it was because I was a Jordan Baby – my first basketball memories were of MJ and the Chicago Bulls’ second 3-peat from ‘95 to ‘98.
I told her it was because I wanted to see another GOAT, but this time I would get to see his entire career.
I told her it was because when I was 13 years old, I made my dad order a LeBron jersey for me the night LeBron was drafted number one overall straight out of high school.
I told her it was because LeBron was hyped as The Chosen One, and that was exactly who I wanted him to be.
“It sounds like you are a really big LeBron fan?”
Bae was confused.
I explained how I was until The Decision, when LeBron left his hometown team in shocking fashion, announcing to Cleveland in person, and on national television to the world, that he was taking his talents to South Beach.
I told Bae that LeBron was supposed to finally bring the Cavs to the promised land, but he bailed instead. He failed and he bailed. This was The King? This was my GOAT?
Bae said she understood, immediately loved LeBron anyway, and went right back to playing Angry Birds on my iPhone 4.
I was delighted when the Celtics took a 3-2 lead back to Boston for Game 6.
Game 6 at The Garden.
LeBron’s entire career on the line.
One game, on the road, against the very team in the Celtics that caused him to leave Cleveland in the first place.
To not even make it to The Finals with the Heatles would have been a letdown of monumental proportions. The LeBron haters would roast him over the flames like never before.
But it was evident right away that LeBron showed up that night with a different look, a different mindset.
I could see it from a thousand miles away.
The great Bill Simmons captured the scene perfectly back in 2012 for Grantland in his masterful piece “The Consequences of Caring.”
“LeBron strolled out with a creepy look on his face, a relaxed, detached expression that said … well … we didn’t know.”
This was a LeBron that we had never seen before. But I felt like I knew this version of him anyway because this was the exact LeBron that I had always hoped to see.
The LeBron that knew he was going to win – no matter what.
LeBron was one thousand percent aware of the nuclear stakes. He knew it was time.
It was time for The King to take his Best Player in the World game to another level when it mattered most. And to never look back. It was time for him to do so in completely dominant fashion from start to finish.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
As LeBron knocked down shot after shot like he didn’t even care — like it was preordained and had already happened — I couldn’t help but think that The King had paid his price.
Scoring 25 straight points against the Pistons historically great defense in the 2007 Eastern Conference Finals.
Facing the Spurs in The Finals at 22 years old with a roster full of nobodies.
Losing in his first year on the Heat to the Mavs in embarrassing fashion while he stood in the corner afraid of J.J. Barea.
LeBron’s dues were paid.
Game 6 in the Garden was a full manifestation of his trials and tribulations that ultimately made him stronger and better than ever before.
People always rattle off LeBron’s final stats from that Game 6: 45 points and 15 rebounds on 19/26 shooting.
But what you really need to know is that LeBron scored 41 points through three quarters, playing every second of the first 36 minutes of the game. The Celtics were trying to climb out of a King-sized hole all night.
LeBron’s last bucket of the night was a layup with 7 minutes left in the 4th quarter. The Heat were up by 25. (A substantial lead back in 2012 before 3-pointers ruled the game.)
Game 7 in Miami. LeBron was about it again.
Even with the Heat trailing the Celtics by eight points in the 3rd quarter, LeBron stayed true to his game: attacking the basket, hitting the open shot, and, of course, finding the open man.
The Heat went on to beat the Thunder in The Finals, a 4 games to 1 douchebag sweep.
And there he was, LeBron, holding his first Larry O’Brien trophy.
And the first thing that he said?
“It’s about damn time.”
The King had finally made it to the top of the mountain at long last and the very first thing he told the world was that he knew it shouldn’t have taken this long.
My man!
