Future Finals MVP
I knew parenthood came with its sacrifices when I signed up over a year ago. What I didn’t know is that such sacrifice could come so early in my tenure. And yet, after merely 7 1/2 months, I feel I have already missed one of life’s seminal events: The coronation of LeBron James as the true next Michael Jordan.
No, I’m not joking. I’ve been an NBA fan since the final years of the Bulls’ reign, and my love only increased when I moved to California and local “exciting” NCAA games were match-ups such as Cal vs. Oregon. I kid you not. People actually got excited about that garbage.
Since shortly after I started watching, I’ve been listeing to people declare who the next Michael Jordan might be. Would it be Vince Carter? No, not enough drive in that one-and too spotty in his play. Would it be Kobe Bryant? Heavens no. He’s a brilliant player, but he’s also a selfish diva.
Then this 19-year old straight from high school arrived with an improbably emotional and physical maturity. I was convinced at first sight that LeBron was “the one”, and last night he emphatically proved this to the world in a double-overtime victory over the Pistons in which he scored Cleveland’s final 25 points.
So where was I? In bed. We finally gave a giant TV. We now have digital cable. The only salve for me in any of this was the promise of getting to watch some quality NBA games, and I was in bed for the big game because it was 10:00 and I was exhausted and could not keep my eyes open.
Meanwhile, my attempted slumber was punctuated by cries from downstairs. Cries of “Oh My God!”, “No Way”. While I dozed, Matt was clearly enthralled with something in the game. And no offence to my hubby, but it is cosmically unfair that he saw the whole thing while I did not. After all, this is a man who bought me Warriors tickets in 2000 and said he picked the Houston game “so [I] could see Olajuwon” (the man had gone out with an injury months before). Heck, just last night Matt asked me “When did Riley leave the Magic?” Um, that would be the other Florida team, Matt, Miami. And dude, he’s already back.
So that is the price of nursing and trying to overcome a nursing strike. A definitive basketball moment is had, I finally have a TV to watch it on, and it will be the lesser interested party in my household who will talking all about it today.
LeBron, you better do the same in a matinee, OK?