Michael or LeBron? LeBron or Michael? Who’s the best? Could LeBron beat Michael? Whose career will reign supreme when LeBron finally hangs up his Nikes?
It’s a tired argument and, as in all sports, comparing players from different generations makes for a speculative back and forth where neither side can ever truly win.
Although, as an ’80s baby, I openly admit that I will always lean toward Michael Jeffrey Jordan as the would be victor should that fantasy competition even be remotely possible. His tenacity, competitive nature, and his “X-factor” if you will, have shown him to have a desire to win at all costs. We’ve yet to see this on a consistent basis from King James. Again, I’m biased. In my household, we have very few rules, but one of them is definitely “you do not speak ill of ‘His Airness.’ ” Nor do we refer to him as “His Airness.” I will, however, say I am truly a fan of LeBron James. As an NBA fan, I feel blessed to get to watch such a tremendous athlete giving me tenfold of my money’s worth in “sports entertainment.”
“Sports entertainment.” That’s what the WWE classifies itself as. It’s scripted, and thus not “sports” in the truest sense of the word. Why do I use that term? Because I am an NBA conspiracy theorist. Do I actually believe that the NBA is fixed? Not necessarily. But, like Agent Mulder on “The X-Files,” “I want to believe.”
The problem with conspiracy theorists is that they tend to use a series of facts in order to back up their claims. Most of those facts are only checkable by referencing another conspiracy theorist’s findings. While I could cite numerous instances where obvious, blatant, interferences have changed the course of a game’s outcome or where a player has blown a shot, someone not supporting my claim could easily counter with a rational explanation coming from a completely sane perspective. Like the Jordan versus LeBron argument, that would become tired and pointless.
People say you shouldn’t discuss politics or religion while inebriated, but I think a good conspiracy theory is best served through the filter of alcohol. If you’re going to speak like a lunatic, it might as well be cloaked in sweet liquor. I’m going to get banged up, hard, fast, and to the point, then come back to properly finish this tirade.
Fuckers are soft now. That’s why you don’t see as many fights. Why hurt each other because you have passion for a game that’s already decided? Larry Bird and Dr. J straight up tried to choke each other to death because they had balls and the game meant something. You could point out Ron Artest in the mid ‘00s for going berzerker rage, but that dude is just bonkers.
Yeah, I said I wasn’t going to say any LeBron shit, but leg cramps took you out for the rest of a game? You could have gone directly in the locker room for an IV but you knew you were going to lose so you made a “Why me?” face and sat down. Jordan could have had his legs cut off by some madman with a chainsaw and come back with Pippen’s legs sewn on and still make an effort to close the gap. I had my eye smashed in a high school game and it was all bloody and I couldn’t see, but I still finished the game. And that was for free. And I didn’t even like the school I went to. Have some personal pride.
Get a billion dollar doctor to shoot Gatorade into your thighs. Everything has to be handed to you. No balls. You’re fun to watch, but you’re no hero with any traits to idolize other than the natural gifts that are unattainable to other human beings. Jordan WILLED shit to happen. He’d own your ass in a game. He’d say some nasty shit in your ear to fuck your head up and you’d get hurt feelings and have to sit down. That’s applicable, real life shit. But look, I invested in your BGS-graded rookie card while you were still with the Cavs, so please win some more damn rings in case I have to sell that thing if shit gets tight.
Just Fuckin’ Everything
Shots that get blown, like, all the time. You can tell. Looks so stupid. They’re the best basketball players in the world, and there are all kinds of shit that the refs do at the end that never happened in the beginning. Fucking dirty shit.
The Heat Will Win Game 4
It has to happen so the series is 2-2. They’ll go to Game 7 to maximize ad revenue. It’s all just a business. Greedy fucks.
They made him have to go to the Clippers instead of the Lakers or some shit. It’s bullshit. Then that racist fucker gets kicked out, but I bet he knows some shit. The NBA is probably all, “You better not tell or we will kill your family” or something. I don’t know.
You know he did some shit. Like, how Michael Jordan “decided” to play baseball. Bullshit. He probably had some gambling problems and the NBA didn’t want a Peter Rose tarnish so they made him get punished by leaving so it was fair or whatever.
20,000 HD cameras in the arenas and the refs still can’t judge an instant replay? JUST PAUSE IT RIGHT WHEN SOMETHING HAPPENS AND LOOK AT IT. Stupid. Sometimes “they don’t have a good angle.” THEY HAVE ALL THE ANGLES! It’s a billion dollar business. They probably just hide some so it looks all fair and shit.
He’s going to get one last title, then LeBron will probably go to another big city team to get more rings. Then he’ll retire in Cleveland so he looks like a “good guy.” Watch. That shit’ll happen. Or the Heat will win. Either way, it’s dirty.
Montreal Screw Job
Even the “fake” wrestler Bret “The Hitman” Hart didn’t know he was getting burned by the WWF and Vince McMahon. Hart gets put in a submission hold by Shawn Michaels so he can’t jump to WCW with the strap when McMahon makes the call to ring the bell even though Hart didn’t clearly tap out. Bullshit. Everyone is just a pawn in the game.
I like watching the NBA, but that shit is fixed. Why aren’t Charles Barkley, Ernie Johnson, Kenny Smith, and Shaq doing halftime commentary on EVERY game, especially if you want me to watch it so bad? Fuckin’ Craig Sager and Dick Stockton and Marv Albert, too. This ABC shit is garbage. I mean, I like Bill Simmons and everything, but come on. Where’s the showmanship? Inside the NBA is just so much more chill.
I have to go to bed. I have to go to work. There’s hockey tomorrow where shit is still real and the guys don’t take sad naps for their snooze legs.