Josh (@joshflagner) laments on the success of Tom Brady, the Patriots and LeBron James.Continue reading
“No, I didn’t consult LeBron, or any of my Cavs teammates before I made the decision to ask for a trade. I thought about my future, and decided I needed to make that decision on my own. It isn’t because I have a bad relationship with anyone on the team or in the organization, I’ll always remember Cleveland for the great team, fans, and my first championship. But it was time for me to move on, and I couldn’t be happier than I am to start the next chapter of my career in Boston, playing with great teammates, under a great coach, and in a city where legends were made.”
On Friday, ESPN’s Brian Windhorst reported that Kyrie Irving is looking to leave the Cleveland Cavaliers and LeBron James for another team and a bigger role. The storyline here has been evolving, and fast. Here are our quick thoughts:
I think Kyrie is a superstar who never figured out how to be a superstar, and the Cavs are a championship organization that never learned to be a championship organization. Kyrie was sold on a long-term Cavs contract before LeBron came back, and he never felt the focus that he was promised. There’s no blame to assign there, it’s not like the Cavs could tell LeBron no, and LeBron didn’t call Kyrie and tell him before Kyrie decided. It happens. Kyrie is the same age as LeBron was when he made his infamous decision, which really doesn’t mean this is the perfect time for a defection, but young dudes look at life a little bit differently than some of us old dudes do.
I’m really tired of the consistent talk surrounding whether Lebron or MJ is the better basketball player.
It seems like every year, for the past seven years, the only thing the sporting world can talk about during the NBA playoffs revolves around this issue.
My opinion is and always will be: Comparing players of different eras is apples to oranges. The game is completely different in 2017 than it was in 1995. We now live in an era when 5s are non-essential. In 1995, if you didn’t have a dominant 5 to run the pick-and-roll and draw defenders into the paint, forget about competing for a title.
Cleveland had just won its first championship in 52 years. LeBron James, exhausted after three games of cementing his legacy, of chiseling away at the foundation of Michael Jordan’s mythology, slumped on the floor at Oracle Arena. The room I was in was dark, but I could hear my neighbors screaming, I didn’t move, but my heart was jumping in my chest.
I was thinking about everything and nothing. I didn’t know what to do. At some point, in this euphoric stupor, I got a text from a friend.