I won’t bury the lede. I hate Lebron James. What has inspired this blog is just a recent episode in an all too successful TV show that has been on in front of me for the majority of my life. I cannot stand him. The thesaurus isn’t expansive enough for me to write this without being at least a tad repetitive. I loathe him. I don’t want to make outlandish statements (I'm aware I'm about to make a few outlandish and probably offensive ones), but I hate him basically as much as anyone I know of. Yes, this includes the likes of Osama Bin Laden and Benito Mussolini. I dislike him as much as I dislike Nazis, terrorists, and the KKK. I am not self unaware. I know this is insane, but at least I am admitting it. This isn’t to say that I hate Nazis any less than the next guy. It’s just a way for you to gauge how passionate my hatred is for Lebron.
I know a lot of people hate Lebron James, and I know a lot of people started to hate him when he made the announcement that he was "taking his talents to South Beach." I am not here to talk about that, because I genuinely believe I have enough within me to write an alternative “The Series of Unfortunate Events” book series, all centered around my life’s equivalent of Count Olaf. I have the proof to show that I had at least a healthy base of Lebron James hate from the time I was nine or ten years old. For Christmas, I gifted my older brother this magnificent piece of artwork below. In my generation, there was no Photoshop to make someone look dumb. It was all arts and crafts, baby. Despite my lack of artistic ability, I persevered and gave my brother what I think is a concerning foreshadow of what my life was to become, but also a pretty damn good gift.
Now that I have given myself some ethos by showing how deep in history the roots of my hate are buried, I hope to unveil at least part of my argument. Like I said, there is too much to cover in just one blog, so I won’t touch everything, but I promise this will not be the last time he appears on my website. I also want to preface the remainder of this piece by saying that it may at times get incoherent and disorganized. It’s hard to write eloquent sentences and paragraphs about the person you despise the most in this world.
I'll try to cover just the last week in Lebron. One thing basic Lebron haters turn to when they criticize him is his flopping, and rightfully so. His flop against the Warriors reignited that flame.
The way he always purposely winces is hilarious. He once claimed he didn’t know how to flop, yet continually does it. There are literally ten minute YouTube videos dedicated to clips of him doing exactly that. The sports anchors or announcers always point this out with the same dumb joke, “Lebron James deserves an Oscar for that one.” I despise when they say that. Again, partially because I am mentally unstable when it comes to this subject, but more because it insinuates he is a good flopper. He’s terrible! It’s embarrassing. It’s as if he thinks we can’t see it in slow motion 45 times immediately after. Also, I don’t mean “basic Lebron haters” in a derogatory way, it’s just people who hate him in a more sane way than I do. The point is, for a veteran like me, I know that it’s not the flop from Lebron that is going to get my blood boiling. I am pretty much desensitized to the on court antics by now. It’s whatever out of touch, cringe worthy thing he is going to say after the fact. Of course, when asked about the incident, he delivered---
I mean, the guy is laugh out loud funny. The guy who flopped in front of hundreds of thousands of people on national television because Draymond Green ran into him is now claiming he’s a tough guy. Which he is not. This part of the argument is not up for debate. Elsewhere, I have been presented with reasonable rebuttals to my fury, but here I will not accept a differing opinion. There are no reasonable ones. And what makes him think he can dub himself a football player, because he gets sideline passes to Ohio State games and performs choreographed dances midgame to make himself the center of attention? Or is it because he played flag football against Kevin Durant? Maybe it’s because he played high school football? I did too, Lebron. Next time a dude bumps me at the bar I can’t wait to tell him I’m a football player.
In that game where the incident occurred, the Cavs lost to the Warriors by 30. They have been playing awful in the new year. They are just 5-6 in 11 games, but still sit atop the Eastern conference standings. Granted, these slumps happen to all good teams. But this is when Lebron digs deep and shows us who he really is. He knows that he can’t beat the Warriors in a seven game series. So he starts sub- tweeting and throwing his teammates under the bus to the press, all to get the pot stirring on the “Lebron doesn’t have enough help” narrative. To give you another example, when he first came back to Cleveland, he said that the Cavs were not “championship ready”. He of course said that because he knew they were going to be very talented and good and would exceed those expectations he set for them. He does things like this every year.
Instead of privately talking to the front office (the front office that just bent it’s back over to get Kyle Korver, one of the best three point shooters of all time) and to his teammates, he has been all over the news saying his team is “top heavy” and that they won’t be able to win a championship with this roster. You know, the same roster, if not a tad better, than the one they had last year. As always, when the chips are down it’s them, them, them! When things are going well, it’s Me, Me, Me!
After the most recent loss to the lowly Pelicans without their star Anthony Davis, he said, “We need a playmaker, man.” Hmm. His all star point guard played pretty well.
Oh, and Kevin Love also had 26 points, 16 rebounds, and 6 assists.
Sigh. He wasn’t done there, though. If I had to pick a top 5 of Lebron James quotes to sum up why I hate him, this one may actually make it. He went on to say, “I’ll be 33 in the winter, and I ain’t got time to waste.”
Lebron’s birthday is December 30th. I know this because mine is the 29th and I hate that we’re even that close to each other in something that insignificant. So, when he says he turns 33 in the winter, what does that even mean? If his birthday was in March and he said I turn 33 in the spring, or even if he said I am 32, and I don’t have time to waste, it would make sense. But because he’s an imebecile, that’s how he phrased it. And that’s what he is- a nonsensical, disingenuous, immature imbecile.
I have a theory that the majority of Lebron’s teammates don’t like him all that much and that they think he’s a bit of a loser. He makes them better on the court though, and I won’t deny that, so they refrain from criticizing him. I think he may be the worst pregame speech giver of all time, too. Pay attention next time- no one is even remotely excited or interested in what he has to say.
I’ll cut myself off for now. But I promise, I’ll be back. The day Lebron James retires will be a sad day because nothing makes me feel more alive than hating this man. And I won’t ever be convinced otherwise. If you disagree with anything I said, we can fist fight. Or have a cordial debate after you comment below. It depends what mood I am in.
Also, please do not say to me “But you have to respect his game dude!” You won’t ever find me saying that Lebron isn’t an unbelievable basketball player. He’ll go down as one of the top 2 players of all time. I call things as I see them. You can be a loser whilst being good at sports.
I hate Lebron.
What just happened? I blacked out.
The United States’ unique history has led us all the way to this point- a miserable 2017. Protests, protests of protests, Facebook outrage, and people just not liking each other that much in general. I come bearing good news, though. The blame of this political climate should not fall on anyone’s shoulders. Anyone living, that is. It was the people before us that fucked this all up. Not us. If you’re really looking to get mad, go to a graveyard.
Everyone is frustrated about something in 2017. A lot of people have a pretty strong case for their anger too. Some people eh, not so much. But the worst thing by far is not having anything to be mad about. That sucks. You just feel like an asshole not even having the slightest thing to be angry at. This is where I was at- White (as shit), heterosexual, and male. The goddamn trifecta of privilege. What can I complain about? I’m not going to complain about other people complaining. That’s not as fun. I thought I was doomed, but recently I realized that I am not.
My head is fucking huge. I have long hair (later edit: I cut it), which helps, but when I’m an older man and have a bald head, my life is basically over. One of my best friends was forced to shave his head due to chemotherapy and all my friends shaved their heads to support him. I couldn’t because of my head. My fear was that I’d look like an alien. Otherworldly. Extra terrestrial. So basically my seven best friends shaved their heads and I didn’t. Boy, did I look like an asshole on social media. When I told my mom I was thinking about shaving my head she said, “Oh honey, no. Absolutely not.” It was one of those brutally blunt and honest things from my mom that I just knew I couldn’t go against.
That made for this great picture above. Eight dedicated friends and family members and then the asshole hippy (me) in the front. I look at that picture and think, What a loser in the front, even though I know it’s me who I am looking at. Anyone reading this is probably thinking the same thing, but cut me some slack. The last time I shaved my head was in eighth grade. Here’s how that went.
Looks like a continent. Eighth wonder of the world. So easy to make fun of, too. But I can’t change it. I was born with this thing. The doctor thought I had hydrocephalus.
Hydrocephalus: a condition in which fluid accumulates in the brain, typically in young children, enlarging the head and sometimes causing brain damage.
Nope, just a huge head. My grandma admitted later to my mother that she was worried throughout my childhood because my head was always resting on my shoulder and I couldn’t support the weight of my head with just my neck. When I was younger, a babysitter of mine set me up on a morning segment with the sports guy at the WGN news network. It ended up being pretty successful and funny. I didn’t mess up too bad on air. The segment starts at about 25:30.
The guy’s name is Pat Tomasulo. Great, funny guy. I was impressed with him and I thought he was impressed with me. Then I saw a blog of his afterwards with him basically just chuckling to himself writing about how big my head was.
I get heat all of the time. What I am getting at is, TADA! I finally found it. I finally found my thing that I can complain about. I am literally insulted about my head every day. It’s just like skin color. I can’t change it, what am I supposed to do? It runs in my family. I’m tired of it. Calling all members of the big head club, let’s unite! In order to join the big head club, you need to match the following requirements:
Those “one size fits all” labels are the definition of LHP (Little head privilege.) If it says “one size fits all” on it, it better fucking fit. Because last time I checked I am a person too. You’re isolating me from the general population. You are deeming me not fit to be considered apart of “all.” The “one size fits all” hoax forced me to buy my own baseball helmet every year. I couldn’t use the regular team ones. If someone took my helmet when I was about to hit and they were still on base I was screwed. When you say “One size fits all” this is basically what you’re doing.
Exact same idea. And I am sick of it. You should be too. Stop LHP and stop alienating larger headed people. Make “One size fits all” fit. Let’s see if good ole DJT is as GREAT as he says he is.
Sign the petition: www.change.org/p/donald-trump-stop-little-head-privilege-make-one-size-fits-all-fit
P.S. If you weren’t shooting in the gym (see: Drake verse- Stay Schemin') with the others who have been making fun of my cranium for years, don’t you dare start now. Only then will your lack of creative humor as a human become completely transparent, and we don't want that.
Darrelle Revis, a former Tampa Bay Buccaneer, New England Patriot, and current New York Jet, is under fire. He’s under fire because, well, he’s not very good at football anymore. After signing a five year, 70 million dollar contract to return to the Jets, the team that originally drafted him, Revis’ play on the field has been uninspiring and unimpressive.
The cornerback’s play is only reminiscent of his former pro bowl, defensive player of the year self that dubbed him the name “Revis Island.” The nickname insinuated that wide receivers being guarded by Revis were on a metaphorical island, and one that wide receivers did not wish to visit.
Now I’ll attempt to answer the question that all fans start asking once their multi million dollar corner back fails to intercept a pass until the last game in a 16 game season. What the hell are we paying him for? Well, they have their gripe. But what I’m here to tell you is that Revis, formerly Revis Island, is a better activist than football player. See, his alleged demise is much more symbolic and important than you worthless football fans (s/o Meryl) could ever realize.
Here’s the deal: Darelle Revis, and I think this is pretty clear, is one of the most important environmental advocates in the 21st century. Let’s look at the facts ladies and gentlemen. A man who was once considered the best of the best at his craft is now being “embarrassed” week in and week out on the football field. Is he though? Or is it planned? Well it’s not just his decline in play that Jets fans are angry about. It’s also the effort. Did anyone consider that he’s not trying? The Cleveland Browns and a former quarterback playing wide receiver torching him may be the first sign.
Revis Island is no longer. But that’s not the only Island that no longer exists. Year after year, our planet gets hotter and hotter. As it gets hotter, the sea levels rise and force once flourishing islands to disappear. It’s one of the inconvenient truths facing our planet. Now I’m not here to lecture you on an “issue” that will allow Midwestern high school baseball players to feel their hands while at the plate in the coming years. I am, however, here to connect you to the truth, no matter what side you’re on.
Eric Heiden, a former speed skater and an Olympian, once said, “Sports and Politics do not mix.” Eric Heiden is a dumb person that I didn’t know until I looked up “sports and politics quotes” in the Google search engine. In Revis’ case, I think there is more mixing than we may have ever previously thought possible.
After winning a super bowl with the New England Patriots in 2014, many expected Revis to return to the team in order to pursue more rings. He instead decided to return to the Jets, and begin the downslope of his career in one of the most liberal areas in the United States. The Democrats, who generally find climate change to be more of a troubling issue than the Republicans, would be in abundance during his stay in New York. It was the perfect atmosphere to become a symbol for climate change awareness, a metaphorical island being lost under the Republicans lead. What? Did I say the Republicans lead? What do they have to do with this? Go pop another bag of that popcorn and I’ll tell ya.
The owner of the New York Jets, Woody Johnson, was the fool at the expense of Revis’ diabolical political plan. He's the one who dished out the 70 million dollar contract in order to progress his football team. Revis had other plans. He planned to progress the environmental rhetoric in our country. Johnson has donated large sums of money to the campaigns of John Mccain, Mitt Romney, and worked for Jeb Bush before endorsing Donald Trump this past fall. He gave this 70 million to Revis Island only to see it figuratively drown in water along with his money.
Revis is a revolutionary. He has brought a pressing issue to the national stage, a stage that draws tens of millions of viewers each week. Instead of some hippy hanging from a roof with a half ass sign about the pipeline, he's brought it to the field. He has used what some thought was a clever nickname in the past and changed it into deeper symbolism than even your high school English teacher could have picked up on. And during all of this, he has been actively taking money away from top Republican donors.
I’m not here to tell you to like or dislike Revis more now, but I am telling you to WAKE UP. This is what the media doesn't want you to see! This is the scoop on my blog before some big breaking news story or tell-all with Revis featured. Darrelle Revis can't be this bad at football all of a sudden. Get out ahead of the story, show Darrelle we're not simpletons!
The second city. Chi-Town. Windy City (This is NOT about the wind non- Chicagoans! Ugh.). The City By the Lake. My Kind of Town. The City that Derrick built.
There’s two types of people in this world: People who love Chicago and liars! I took my time over the last few days and came up with five very relatable things that only Chicagoans know and compiled them into a list to put online. So, without further ado…
The five reasons you know you’re from Chicago:
In my high school health class I watched a bunch of those videos that are supposed to scare you away from hard drugs like heroin, crystal meth, and crack cocaine. From my experience, I thought they were pretty effective. I went through high school and now most of college without doing drugs at all. Instead, I watched my favorite player, Derrick Rose, play (sometimes) for my favorite basketball team, the Chicago Bulls.
In that senior year health class I watched the crack-cocaine guy from Chicago talk about how the drug controls his life, and how you’re forever chasing that first high from that drug. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, I thought. If you know you’re not going to get back to that first high, then what the hell are you doing? Hahaha. Well, Mr. Crack smoker, you and I are a lot more alike than I had previously thought. That’s when I realized Derrick Rose was my personal crack cocaine addiction.
My Derrick Rose Love through the life of a troubled Drug Addict:
2008-09- The bulls, after years of being horrible, and then average, get some stud out of the draft named Derrick Rose. He even said that if his hometown team didn’t draft him that he didn’t really want to play in the NBA. Well, they did, by miraculously winning the lottery in order to get the number one pick. Despite the 1.7 percent chance that the Bulls had of picking that high, they were able to land the apple of their eye, Derrick Rose. Rose wins the Rookie of the year award.
This is when I first took some alcohol out of my parents’ liquor cabinet. Early stages, taking swigs out of some nasty alcohol that I’d never seen before. Tasted awful, but looked cool.
2010-11- After a few years of being average yet competitive with Vinny Del Negro, the Bulls front office decided to get in a fist fight with him (have they fought with anyone else since?) and brought in Tom Thibodeau. The bulls went 62-20 to gain home court advantage throughout the playoffs in the eastern conference and Derrick Rose, who averaged 25 points, nearly 8 assists, and 4 rebounds, won the league’s MVP. Things were going well. For my generation of Bulls' fans, this was our 95-96 Bulls, this was our everything.
My first hit of the crack cocaine. Since 2008, things had progressed but weren’t all that serious. Smoking weed, drinking liquor, hey maybe a few pills here and there. Then boom, that 10-11 season. Number one seed and the MVP award. That first hit felt so good. I dove head first into that horrible crack cocaine, and I think I know what night it was. The whole year I was getting ready to pick up that pipe, but it wasn’t until a special May night that I made the decision to never look back and became a victim of Derrick Rose.
What I wasn’t informed of was the horrible withdrawal and hangover you get in the immediate days following this sort of drug use.
That wasn’t fun.
After winning that first game they lost the next four. But to say that I didn’t take another hit after game 1 would be a lie, I mean come on.
Yeah, give me that pipe.
Side note- Best part of that video is actually Reggie Miller saying “How IS the Bulls gonna score?” Singular, plural, who cares? TNT announcers who were really good at basketball, but aren’t great at analyzing basketball, or talking in general, are my favorite.
Okay, I promise, last YouTube video from the glory days. Game 1 of the playoffs. Your reminder as well that Keith Bogans was the starting shooting guard on that team. Thibs is the best.
2011-12- About that time again. This was going to be our year. Last year, we were young. Second year under my man Thibs, Rose is back, the whole core is back. Bulls once again locked up the number one seed in a lock out year. Derrick battled with a few injuries, which weren’t a big deal and have never become a big deal, but still averaged a cool 22 points and 8 assists in the 39 games he started. We just needed him for the playoffs. And then, you know what happened. I’m not going to try to Tom Rinaldi you on this one and act like the kid he’s talking about that had a terminal illness in his College Gameday short ended up making it. Derrick Rose tore his goddamn ACL.
Up 12 with 1:20 left. You can watch that clip if you want, I can’t. I tried to light up that pipe a lot the rest of that series. Omer Asik not looking at the rim when he shot free throws didn’t help in game 6 to lose to the 8 seeded 76ers. The reality was that I had become hooked on Derrick Rose and now I needed a fix. Panic mode. And to make it worse…
This dork was like my mom coming in my room telling me that being hooked on a hard drug was bad. Yeah dude? Get out of my face.
2012-13- Derrick Rose misses the whole season while the Bulls play their butts off for Thibs and actually make the city proud. They, of course, found a way to beat Lebron in one game before being demolished. Whenever I think of that series I remember the refs being unfair in games 2-5 but I have absolutely no evidence of that and I think I was the only one that got that vibe so I’ll leave that here. Nate Robinson helped me out as a substitute drug a little bit that year. This was sort of like when your friend that’s addicted to chew gets coffee grind pouches and thinks they’re actually going to work.
Still not the worst days to come of my Derrick Rose addiction. I was just going to smoke every now and then, I’d get that high back. I still loved that good good Rose. Derrick Rose getting isolated from the “Top Point Guards” conversation was me being isolated from my family for my drug use.
My Uncle Terry loved telling me at this time that he was done, that’d he never be the same. That’s when I sort of stopped liking my Uncle Terry. Just looked down and saw that I’m at 1,000 words, or in other words, have lost the attention of anyone born after 1985, and I think I lost most people born before 1985 at the title. I’ll fast forward.
Where am I now?
After continuing to struggle with my Rose addiction, I have still, like the crack head from Chicago, not returned to my high. I have reached the point of no return in my relationship with Derrick Rose. I got close in the Conference Semifinals against the Cavs in 2015, but it didn’t happen. I’ve thought about quitting many of times. I thought I was done after the midseason injury last year. I thought it was all over for us. But then I realized, it will never be over for us, Derrick. We’re going to do this, together.
We should have just smoked a Beasley in that 2008 draft, that would’ve made things quicker. The comparison is also faulty, Derrick Rose is way worse than crack-cocaine. But who am I kidding, Derrick Rose isn’t who he once was. I’m just a miserable addict who will never feel that feeling again. I’m done.
Hold the fucking phone. Someone pass me the pipe.