Dear LeBron,
Thank you.
You kept your end of the deal, so I kept mine.
Sunday night, after you carried the Cavs to a 93-89 win over Mouth-Guard Guy and his highly touted Warrior teammates, bringing The Land its first major sports title in 52 years, I took my “Quitness” T-shirt out of the closet, laid it on the driveway, ran over it with the car, then picked it up and burned it.
As you no doubt recall (cough), I wrote you an open letter about this on July 13, 2014, two days after you rocked the sports world by announcing you were coming home.
At the time, you and I lived three miles apart. I have since moved, and now we live just two miles apart. But as I confessed back then, I haven’t always felt real neighborly toward you.
Shortly after your departure, I purchased and proudly wore the “Quitness” shirt. Black, short-sleeve XL, white lettering. There’s smaller type below “Quitness” that reads, “kissmyasslebron.com.”
I hadn’t worn the shirt since long before your return, but I kept it. And I promised you in print that if things went the way we all hoped they would, I would torch it, just like people torched your Cavs jerseys back in 2010.
You could certainly question my loyalty. But here’s how I looked at things: If you were able to forgive the poison penmanship of team owner Dan Gilbert, you would understand that I, too, took the manner in which you departed personally. You emotionally sucker punched me, Gilbert and every other sports fan in the 330, the 440 and the 216.
Actually, it wasn’t just sports fans. The run-up to your 2010 decision was an ongoing national story that turned into a referendum on the desirability of Northeast Ohio itself.
Fueling our anger was this: From the time you were in high school, you talked endlessly about your love for your city and your teammates and the importance of loyalty.
When you came to the Beacon Journal in 2002 for an awards ceremony after being named Parade magazine’s High School Player of the Year, you insisted that your teammates be allowed to tag along. You did the same thing seven years later when you won the equivalent award in the NBA.
That’s why I concluded, an instant after the words “South Beach” came tumbling out of your mouth, that your alleged fixation on loyalty was nothing but hot air.
Well, I was wrong.
Completely wrong.
By coming home, you put your money where your mouth is, your career where your heart is, your home where our homes are. You eschewed South Beach and Malibu and the Miracle Mile for Montrose.
No one should ever question your loyalty again.
You are also the absolute antithesis of a quitter. As you collapsed onto your knees as the game clock reached 0:00 Sunday — at the precise moment all of Northeast Ohio was leaping into the stratosphere — you clearly had burned up every ounce of physical and emotional energy that one man can possess.
Your performance in the Finals, both on and off the court, was absolutely stunning. And you have transformed our sporting lives.
Chris Rose, who works for the MLB and NFL networks, grew up in Shaker Heights. The day after you left, LeBron, I printed a quote from him that captures our sports history better than anything else I’ve ever heard:
“Cleveland sports fans are 90 percent scar tissue.”
On Sunday night, you broke our adhesions. You freed Northeast Ohio sports fans from a half-century of contusions and sprains and gouges and twists, freed us to sprint full speed without a hint of pain.
What makes things even sweeter is that the guy who gave us what we needed is one of us.
Welcome home, indeed.
Love, Bob.
Bob Dyer can be reached at 330-996-3580 or bdyer@thebeaconjournal.com. He also is on Facebook at www.facebook.com/bob.dyer.31