Delusions of Grandeur

As glad as I am that Apple this morning finally addressed Antennagate -- free cases and rebates for everyone! -- I'm even more glad that the LeBron James and Friends Free Agent Circus is over. LeBron's moved to South Beach. Okay, fine. But it's the way in which he moved that's got me rolling my eyes more than Nick Lachey did on Newlyweds. Well, to be fair, the media is as much at fault for the ridiculous spectacle as LeBron is. All the talking heads on TV and all the sports talk guys were building this summer up for three years. Teams were clearing out cap space for LeBron and friends. Meetings with potential destinations were chronicled up to the nanosecond. And all the while, people in Cleveland and the rest of Ohio were praying their team wouldn't become irrelevant faster than Palm. And then LeBron had to go and make the whole circus even more extraordinary by announcing "The Decision" on national television. Because, ya know, when a free agent changes addresses, it's, like, really important news that people care about. Er, at least the programming execs at ESPN care. I mean, really. Why did this have to happen? Couldn't his signing with the Heat be blogged about or tweeted or something? Why did LeBron (or whomever orchestrated the event) feel the need to broadcast it? And an hour?! It's obvious not everyone feels the same way Stan Van Gundy and I do. And the saddest part? It was reported that 9.95 million viewers tuned in to find out where LeBron would play come November. Then there's ESPN's production leading up to LeBron's interview with Jim Gray. Throwing up statistics, spewing superfluous analysis, and ultimately kissing LeBron's obscenely rich ass. Because, of course, ESPN has a TV contract with the NBA and the league is $370M in the hole and really needs another Michael Jordan. Society's in sad, sad shape when this much (undeserved) hoopla -- no pun intended -- is made for somebody who isn't that good and hasn't won a championship yet. Too bad Cecil B. DeMille is long dead or LeBron could've hired him to direct the whole farce, complete with monster sets and an overwrought introductory voice over. Make it even more pretentious and pompous. From a basketball perspective, it'll be interesting to see how well James, Wade, and Bosh co-exist, but I'm not looking forward to the circus coming back to town when the Heat tip off their season. Then the team will be on TV seven days a week and every announcer, analyst, and sports anchor will die from prolonged LeBron-induced orgasms. Personally, I'm waiting to see the faces of every bandwagon-rider if the Heat don't win a thing during King James' rule. That'd be fun to watch people squirm and whine.