“There’s Got to Be a Morning After, LeBron”

June 13, 2011
Miami

This morning LeBron James awoke, took four steps to his kitchen (when three would suffice), and started assembling his breakfast. He sat down, looked at his picture on the back of the milk carton, and sighed. He emptied a box of Lucky Charms into a bowl painted to look like a basketball. Out came the oat cereal pieces, the yellow stars, the green clovers, the red balloons, the purple horseshoes, and the blue diamonds, then that fine mist of cereal crumbs one would find at the bottom of a box of cereal.

LeBron weakly slammed his fist on the table. Even his cereal lacked heart.

The Florida sun shone through Dwyane Wade’s kitchen much like any morning. He poured his customary Gatorade into his Wheaties, the secret to his success all these years. But this morning would be like no other morning. Wade picked up his cereal bowl, and promptly fumbled it away. Glumly, Wade tightened his Hermes necktie, and decided to take his talents to IHOP.

Chris Bosh awoke from a glorious sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that he had acquitted himself well in the NBA Finals. Bosh sauntered into his kitchen, prepared himself a soft-boiled egg, spread cream cheese onto an English muffin, and sipped from a mug of thin coffee. He took his breakfast into his media room, plopped onto his favorite soft chair, and turned on his favorite movie – The Third Man, starring Orson Welles.

Erik Spoelstra had another of his sleepless nights in his office at American Airlines Arena, constantly clicking on Google search results, desperately searching for LeBron James’ game. Pat Riley came in and dropped a box of Dunkin Donuts on his desk. The two men shared a gallows’ laugh. “Donuts. No center.” Riley straightened up, and started to talk, “Erik, I’m putting an ad on Monster.com…” Spoelstra’s eyes widened, then narrowed, wondering if the rumors of his dismissal would come to fruition. But Riley continued, “…an ad, for a point guard.”

LeBron James, to hear him exhort his teammates, is all about maximum effort. And so he gave maximum effort on this morning after. He took his clean laundry, folded his J. Press pocket squares, folded his Zegna slacks, folded his Gold Toe socks, and finally folded his Turnbull & Asser bespoke shirts. And folded, and folded, and folded. His shirts are his pride and joy. They are fresh and clean. The collars are perfect. The collars have no rings around them.

Having completed his folding, James looked down at his cell phone. It didn’t ring, but a text message from Wade was waiting for him. James nodded, then posted on Twitter: @DWADEOFFICIAL taking my talents 2 ihop 2 c u there. He went to his garage, looked over his options, then selected his Aston Martin and its TouchTronic “no clutch” transmission. The engine started with a roar, then gradually quieted into a low hum, and then was barely audible. He drove off, daydreaming about waffles.

Elsewhere, Dirk Nowitzki, with championship and MVP trophies in hand, boarded a plane for Dallas, and said to no one in particular, “I’m going to Euro Disney!”

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