“As more adult kids move back home, the stigma diminishes,” one newspaper headline said.
“Brace yourself mom — we’re back,” said the headline on a CNN.com report.
It’s all the rage, and why not? It’s a cold, cold world out there, even in South Beach. You come home, mom does all your laundry, feeds you, and, if you happen to be “The Chosen One,” adores everything you do. You can live like a king — specifically, like “King James.”
This, I believe, is why LeBron James left the warmth of the Miami sun to return home to the furnace of Cleveland and Northeast Ohio. It wasn’t because of the higher calling he laid out in his first-person account to Sports Illustrated announcing his return to the Cavaliers, the hometown franchise that drafted him in 2003 and where he played for seven seasons until “The Decision” of 2010:
“I feel my calling here goes above basketball. I have a responsibility to lead, in more ways than one, and I take that very seriously. My presence can make a difference in Miami, but I think it can mean more where I’m from. I want kids in Northeast Ohio, like the hundreds of Akron third-graders I sponsor through my foundation, to realize that there’s no better place to grow up. Maybe some of them will come home after college and start a family or open a business. That would make me smile. Our community, which has struggled so much, needs all the talent it can get.”
The key phrase here is “my presence can make a difference in Miami, but I think it can mean more where I’m from.”
James was the best player on the Miami Heat, leading them to four straight Eastern Conference titles and two NBA championships. But he was never the most beloved player on that team — the man. That was Dwyane Wade. He’s the one who will get the statue in Miami. James was always going to be second fiddle in the shriveled-up hearts and minds of Heat fans.
As the euphoria of his return overshadows the crassness of “The Decision,” let us not forget that when he left Cleveland, there were numerous reports about how James and his flunkies ran roughshod over the franchise, dictating small and big decisions, from parking spaces to coaches.
That wasn’t going to play in Miami, where the big dog is team president Pat Riley, and the decisions, big and small, concerning the Heat are Riley decisions.
And you know what? Nobody in Cleveland cares — not even the guy who wrote a book that among other things, centered around James‘ cruel goodbye out of town in 2010 with “The Decision” — a book called “The Whore of Akron.”
Like many Cleveland fans, Scott Raab, an Esquire magazine writer, couldn’t care less about motives and manipulation. He’s thinking about the depression and pain of the region he grew up in.