LeBron is Going to Cleveland

Yay!

I wish I knew who LeBron was and then my "yay" wouldn't be quite so vacuous. It's not an essential part of Playing in the Last Quarter that one doesn't have a clue about who LeBron is ... or Katie Perry ... or Justin Bieber ... or all the people with one name. Indeed M knows who all these people are. And my friend, Milt, could chances are tell you a whole helluva lot about people in Sports. 35 or so years ago while I was trying to get my 12 and 13 year olds to focus on something other than baseball, Milt was in process of moving his family from Buffalo to Philadelphia. In the interim, Professor Milt moved into our home. I would come home and find the two guys and Milt stretched out in front of the TV watching business-men -- some in pin-striped suits from the Bronx -- competing with well-defined rules about which there could be arguments. I don't think LeBron plays baseball but I'm confident that my 47 and 48 year old sons and Milt could tell you what he does and how he does it.

And M? M and I have a mixed-marriage ... she from a family where Sports-watching played a role and mine where playing was cool but watching other people have a good time was considered voyeuristic. So, M would know, too ... that is, she's know who LeBron was. True. We both have gaps in our memories caused, perhaps, by overuse but we remember different things. I have tried to get with it, over the years, but have failed. M doesn't particularly like it when I tell this story but it is instructive.

It was maybe 1971. We were living in Buffalo ... indeed, that's where I met Milt and Ruth. Any case, M found out that the Bruins were coming to town with a guy named Bobby Orr ... not Robert or Roberto? No, he was a Bobby. The Bruins were playing the home team, the Sabres. There were three bad-guys on the Sabres called the French Connection, named, I suppose, after the heavy killing movie of the same name. One of them, "checked" Bobby into the "Boards." That means, they pushed him violently against the wooden and glass boundary that was there to make certain that only people on the ice would be killed by flying pucks. Now, I knew that Bobby had bad knees and checking him like that into the Boards could end his career ... and M certainly knew this. We were in the nose-bleed section ... Standing Room Only. M began screaming for revenge like a Legionnaire -- sabre drawn -- going over the hill ... or the ledge? That's when a beefy guy three rows down -- obviously an athletic chauvinist -- turned around and screamed:

"Shut da bitch up."

Yeah. That's I blew it ... not having a clear notion of protocol, I said the only thing that came to my mind:

"I don't even know da bitch."

And that's why Howard hasn't been taken to many games but -- likely -- has nothing to do with why "he don't know a phu**in' thing about LeBron."

Hey, just sayin' and if anybody wants to tell me why the lead story in most venues while the World blows up is about Mr. LeBron moving to Cleveland. Damn! What happened to "Bonzo Goes to Washington?"