I MAY not have gotten my president for this country, but I got my NBA champion.
Once again, though, I lived in a house divided. In the past May elections, my father and I voted one way, while my brothers went the other way.
This time around, I was a stand-alone. My brothers and my father rooted for the Golden State Warriors while I went Cleveland Cavaliers. I’ve always been a LeBron James fan, forever and ever. Unless, of course, his head grows too big for his hat and he starts speaking dirty words like nobody’s business.
Or unashamedly starts whistling at others’ wives, even with their husbands around and very much alive.
Asked post-game how he felt under all the pressure to bring in the NBA championship to end Cleveland’s 52-year drought, James humbly said “I stopped asking the Man above ‘Why me?’ and instead asked ‘What do you want me to do?”
Something ponderous about legends and great men; they have no doubts about a power outside of them and mightier than theirs.
Even before beginning a game, James whispers something, assumedly a prayer, and then points his forefingers above while slightly looking up. Each time he does this, I’m a fan all over again.
Truth to tell, how the game ended would have been a win-win for me. Still in my mind is that Chicago Bulls game with the Jazz in 2002. Playing for the Bulls then, Steve Kerr nailed the 15-foot jump shot in the last five seconds of the game and carried the Bulls to victory.
So, when he became coach and then even wrested the NBA championship last year for the Warriors, I felt it was no small feat for a rookie coach. There was no better way to prove he was a wise pick.
Of course, Stephen Curry is phenomenal. But analysts might be right that Game 5 without Draymond Green must have outbalanced even the star players themselves, including Klay Thompson.
Panic cripples even the best of players. So it was for Curry and Thompson who had trouble hitting the goal even with their layups. Curry himself fouled out and was ejected in Game 6.
But it was clearly a case for me of “Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.”
So each time James missed landing a three-point shot, or even failing his free throws, I’d shout “Pagbantay ba! As if your lead is wide enough for you to be sometimes careless.”
I saw James crestfallen in Game 3. I remembered how he was crucified as an ingrate when, in search of a championship, he left Cleveland to transfer to Miami Heat.
Miami, however, didn’t win in its first attempt. Cleveland guffawed, saying Miami’s loss was the best fate for its ungrateful son.
Miami and James won in its next attempt, after which James decided to “go home” back to Cleveland.
I expected James to repeat the pattern-- lose in the first attempt, and succeed in the second. Yesterday was truly a good day for me.
Six successive years playing in the NBA finals. Ending Cleveland’s drought. Flying high when “people had counted us out.” Marking triple-doubles in shots, rebounds and assists. Becoming NBA Finals MVP. And delivering on his promise to make champions of the Cavaliers.
When the buzzer sounded its last, James fell to his knees and became emotional. Could any success smell as sweet? Twice the dream, twice the pride, twice the bliss.
(lelani.echaves@gmail.com)