Remember the glory days of hating LeBron James?
Right about the time he took his talents to South Beach, hating LeBron was the easiest thing ever. He was disloyal, Delonte West was banging his mom, he was boasting about championships he hadn’t won yet and losing every championship series he played in, and his headband was inching back farther and farther every season to cover his impending baldness. It was great, wasn’t it? The kind of semi-rational sports hatred I could tell my grandchildren about.
Now he’s a two-time champion, Delonte West is miring in the D-League having sex with Melvin Ely’s mom (I’m assuming), Dallas didn’t even make the playoffs and even the headband was cast aside to reveal Ultimate Championship LeBron. So what do we make fun of now? The constant flopping?
Okay, the flopping is still terrible. But here’s confidently-balding LeBron on the cover of the new Sports Illustrated, which, you guessed it, mentions Michael Jordan.
Spoiler alert: LeBron James is still not Michael Jordan you guys, sorry. He can be his own thing.
Also, that cover becomes really funny if you pretend he’s smiling about the NFL Murder Mystery.
