Just Right Sports will return to its regular scheduled programming shortly. The Celtics game, was, as one friend put it, “a cock punch made only cockier-punchier by LeBron being a top, top douchebag.” And it has severely diminished my blogging motivations.
Once the Thunder win Game 7 and the Bruins take Game 2, things’ll look up. You watch.
Surrounded by photographers, James showed us something. He was iconic, and yet less self-conscious, than ever. LeBron stayed there, sinking into the hardwood, photographers kept a respectful distance, and we waited for it to make sense—or at least strike bone. James and the Heat have gone from searing manifesto, to endless cipher, to finally an impenetrable mass. This wasn’t a question of James gone spinning off into some emotional space that only Kobe Bryant or Larry Bird could make sense of. In that moment, LeBron was trying to tell us something. We’ve just lost all willingness to listen.
What a douche.