Here's a quick time line of my life on The Decision Eve:
6:30. Woke up feeling good. Been riding a high ever since going down to the Fan Tunnel on Saturday. The vibe in the city felt positive and supportive. It felt very un-Cleveland, and that vibe has stayed with me. At this point, I fully believe LeBron will stay. I have a theory on why.
8:30. Eating my oatmeal by the filing cabinets and I debut my theory. Here goes: LeBron is staying in Cleveland, and he's always wanted to stay here. So why do all of this free agency stuff? Just to show he could. Instead of driving and around NYC and Miami and Chicago, he said F you, come to Cleveland and tell me why I should leave. He wore sweat pants and a t-shirts. Why? Because F you, I'm LeBron James, you need me, I don't need you. He saw the signs; he felt the love. The primetime TV show announcing his decision? F you, I'm going to do this because I can. Because people will honestly tune in just to watch me pick a team. All of this elaborately shows that even from Cleveland, he can host a primetime TV show based around anything he wants.
8:35. Heard Bosh is signing with Miami. This could have derailed my optimism, but I still don't buy it. I've got my theory after all. And my Home sign. How could he leave us behind? Not buying it.
8:36. Fuck Chris Bosh. Why is he so great? I'm going to throw batteries at him when the Heat come to town.
9:30. Tell my theory a few more times. Feeling good.
10:45. Feel like making a bet with a co-worker. I'm POSITIVE LeBron will stay. I'll put any amount on it. We'll discuss parameters at lunch.
11:00. After a variety of LeBron emails, none with any real importance, all of a sudden, without warning, all of my confidence drained. I read LeBron's name in a subject line and then envisioned this primetime show tomorrow. Here is what happened in my brain:
LeBron. Primetime. Cleveland. Sports. Big stage. Life-altering decision. Potentially crippling. Sports. Cleveland. Cleveland. Big stage. Whole world watching ...... Um, why am I so confident?????
And just as I thought this, a co-worker sends this email: "Full Panic Mode."
Gulp.
12:30. At lunch. Non-stop LeBron talk. Some hopeful voices. Many panicked voices. Some angry voices. A decent peach. Still in full panic mode.
2:00. Read a blog post that says Cavs are one of several teams pushing hard for Carlos Boozer in a last second attempt to woo James. Wow. So many feelings. Is it possible that the Cavs pull off a sign and trade, get Boozer and then LeBron leaves!!! That would mean in 2011 I have to root for Carlos Boozer and NOT LeBron James. Fuck me. In the ass. No lube.
3:00. Read a good column on SI.com. He echoes thoughts I had earlier: Does LeBron James really have the balls to call a live press conference in primetime just to tell the city of Cleveland to fuck off? I say no. Horrible public relations decision... Feeling a little better.
3:30. Read a damning column about LeBron on Yahoo. Very well written. So well written that I kind of hate LeBron right now. I kind of feel like I want him to leave just so I can hate him and call him an egotistical douchebag. I kind of want to root against him for the rest of my life and tell my grandkids about how much I hate him.
3:31. I snap out of it a little. Just going to hold onto that hatred for tomorrow night.
4:45. Listening to talk radio. Hear Boozer signs with the Bulls. Kind of a relief. But yet another reason for LeBron to leave. Ugh. I'd call this a circus, but the circus is fun. This is more like a dropping of Agent Orange.
5:15. Hear LeBron or his marketing firm (unsure which from the two friends I spoke to) has filed to change addresses to Chicago. That is factual. No rumor or opinion here. There was a change of address. Yet again, and with anger—wow. Would LeBron really go THAT far just to throw us off the scent? Is it a red herring? For the sake of my fist and living room wall tomorrow night, I hope so. But this revelation really rocks me. Not good times.
7:00. Conversation with a buddy on the phone. Talk was very depressing. We hate this. We hate that. We are throwing up about this. We are going to throw feces at that. ... This is becoming extremely unhealthy. .. Talk ends with positive feelings about the Tribe. Read that again. Seriously, shoot me in the face.
OK. That's enough. Bottom line? I'm F'd up. This situation is F'd up. I really cannot take any more of this. Do I think LeBron will sign? No clue. I'm still, end of the day, leaning toward yes—despite the address change and all the other signings. Mostly because, if I'm not leaning toward yes, then I have to unleash a tirade of bitterness the likes of which the world has never seen. And I don't feel like doing that yet.
And I just don't think he has the balls to stab us in the back on live TV. Which I guess would more technically be a stab to the face. Do you, LeBron? Do you have the balls to stab us in the face? You certainly didn't against the Celtics. You know who did? Delonte. Your mom told me.
(Ooooh, did that sting? Well, there's more where that came from if you leave, you son of a bitch. But please don't leave. Cleveland loves you. ... God, I'm a mess.)
Go Cavs.
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