LEBRON HATE SYNDROME
“Ask me to play, I’ll play, ask me to shoot, I’ll shoot. Ask me to pass, I’ll pass, Ask me to steal, block out, sacrifice, lead, dominate, anything. But it’s not just what you ask of me. It’s what I ask of myself.” – LeBron James
The first step to recovery is to admit that you have a problem. Your problem is a common one; you hate Lebron! It is fine. It isn’t a serious hatred like the hatred Jason Whitlock has for himself, or the low-key hatred of seeing someone in the sneakers you couldn’t cop on the SNKRS app; your hatred is somewhere in between. You have a common affliction, one that many people your age denies but secretly learns to live with, like late teenage virginhood. This disease is most commonly referred to as “LHS”- Lebron Hate Syndrome.
LHS starts early, somewhere in childhood where young bright-eyed grammar schoolers stand in their footie pajamas gripping their plastic cups filled with strawberry Fanta tight, listening to their elders tell tales of the great Michael Jordan. He could fly; R-Kelly wrote a song about him. He was in an animated movie; it was better than Shrek. He had his own sneakers with more versions than Trapped in the Closet. He could catch bullets with his teeth like the Shogun of Harlem. He never lost in the Finals. He even played baseball bruh!!! He would remain the GOAT of GOATS for your whole life. And into your life strutted the 17-year-old Lebron Raymone James. He was six foot eight, built like the Terminator with expectations higher than Rick James at the afterparty. And he wasn’t even bald. No way he could live up to that hype, you thought. You heard this story before; Harold Minor, Grant Hill, Jerry Stackhouse, Vince Carter.. all at one point in time proclaimed to be the next heir to the “Air”. All tried and came up short and nobody with the middle name of Raymone could ever be a GOAT in this league. To your satisfaction Lebron would end up in Cleveland of all places, alongside the Kevin Ollies and Darius Milesesez and other vets you can barely name. Shortly into Lebron’s NBA career, your LHS started to onset rapidly. Each all-star appearance, each consecutive NBA finals appearance, each NBA ‘ship, the LHS grew stronger and stronger. “His sneakers don’t even sell out B”!! Each day, each season, each success, tears your inside out like a lukewarm White Castle Burger. With each Lebron accomplishment, your LHS brings on involuntary rapid responses.
“The GOAT never cried about fouls”, you utter, as a slow Mekhi Phifer tear rolls down your cheek.
“Jordan never lost in the finals”, you proclaim, knowingly ignoring the string of Bulls first-round sweeps.
This, my friends, is advanced stage LHS. Fear not, as only your GOAT could, Jordan would selflessly executive produce a six-part mini-series on his own life and career that would solve all your woes. Six straight weeks of highlights, never-before-told dry snitching stories, and behind the scenes dialogue to make fresh all of the distant tales of your GOAT. Alas there is no way that Lebron at 35 can win another NBA championship. That is something only our GOAT could do. Plus, Lebron isn’t even bald yet and his sneakers fit like Timbs.
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