Hey, LeBron, let's make this simple for you. If you want to win basketball games, be loyal and stay true to your roots and hometown and not bow out of this town like a coward—if you want to give an honest try to win a title in Cleveland, especially after you flat-out quit on all of us in the middle of the Eastern Conference semis—then you should stay.
But if part of you really wants to chase the idea of being this "global icon," and if you think that's unachievable here in Cleveland, then you should leave. For real.
I thought I'd be part of the groveling masses, begging and pleading for you to love me. I thought if you left I'd never shake the black cloud of misery from above my head. I thought I might not care about sports as much because, to me, you signaled the last hope we had of winning a championship. I legit thought these things—that's how much of an impact you have had on my life.
I really, really want you to stay—definitely—but I was wrong to think those things. I'm not going to chase affection. And if you truly could give a shit about the time you've spent here, or the task at hand or going down as a hometown legend, you'll stay. If you're willing to throw all of that away to chase the glorious more, the green grass, the glitz and pull of the Big Market—then just fucking go.
I've watched many people I've known in my life skip town for various reasons. Some very valid, some very superficial. They wanted the opportunities of a Bigger Market. Or they didn't like the weather. Or they simply were searching for that glorious more. They all felt held back in some way by Ohio.
Here's the funny thing about these people, from what I gather. These same people, when they reach their green grass, are the same people. They still bitch about the same stuff. They're still self-absorbed; they're still "waiting for the weekend;" they still get bored. Maybe not everyone, but most people don't reflect their scenery, they reflect onto their scenery.
A friend of mine that was ahead of me in high school graduated and moved to California. That seemed so exotic and interesting to me. When he returned the next fall for a little bit, I saw him at a football game. Of course, I asked him about California. Was it awesome? Did it change his life forever? The perfect weather and all of the Things To Do!?
"Everyone asks me that, and at first it's like, yeah, look at all this shit to do, but that's just because it's new. Eventually, it just becomes another Ashtabula."
Clearly, it doesn't literally become another Ashtabula because people still have jobs and 90 percent of the population doesn't angrily drink all day in the dark shadows of shady bars or hang out at the mall—but in that sentence, he said it all.
And that's what I say to you, LeBron. If you want the big city or the new experience or the "better" experience, then go. Try it out. I'm guessing your legacy will still be in the same position it is in now. Big name. Breath-taking talent. In search of a title.
Or maybe it will work out. Maybe you'll leave and win and go down in the history books. But you know who won't give a shit? Ohio. Your hometown fans. And if we don't care, then what's the point, ya know?
I'm not going to beg. I'm going to proudly root for my teams through thick or thin and always represent my hometown. And I hope you decide you want to be a part of it. Cleveland, Ohio, is not the place to pine for stardom and not the place to be an arrogant primmadonna. We wear sweatpants to restaurants. If you can't handle those realities, then I won't fight you. I'll help show you the door. (And then never speak your name for the rest of my life. ... We're also bitter and vindictive. I forgot to mention that part.)
Go teams.
