The Problem with Comparing LeBron to Jordan

LeBron James and Michael Jordan; two men separated by time, yet, united by greatness. One still currently playing, the other a memory. One with a defined body of work, the other we have projections. Yet, somehow people are constantly either trying to defend, or impose, the superiority of one over the other without realizing that there is no universally-accepted definition as to WHAT exactly is “greatness.” Instead, greatness is an emotion we as fans experience, regardless of how much we try to prove this with statistics.

Unfortunately, we will never see this so all we have left with is comparing memories.

Everything about being a sports fan is solely based on emotion; the pain, the joy, the loyalty, commitment, and the sense of purpose. Emotions we then warp into memories that shape narratives we never forget. For instance, “The Last Shot” wasn’t just an important shot to win the NBA finals, something many other players have done ; No, THAT shot was confirmation of greatness. His pose while he soaked-in the moment  forever engraved in our memory. 

Thus at its core, who is “The Greatest” is purely emotional decision, and LeBron’s continued ascent to Jordan’s claim as the GOAT is in reality an assault to the memory of millions of people. A task we cannot measure since Jordan is more than just a basketball legend to many; he’s a hero and a childhood icon. Not to mention, a reminder that their childhood kicked ass with “I want to be like Mike” serving as a childhood slogan, not just an advertising campaign.

We all want to think that everything related to our childhood was the best, the food, the people, the “way things were.” This is why I cringe at the sight of a 13 year old kid wearing skinny jeans without realizing that the Dickies pants I wore with one leg rolled up were just as ridiculous to the older folks then. In our own distorted memories, our childhoods kicked ass and are superior to anyone else’s. We do this not because we are malicious, but rather because we are human. Thus begging the question, does LeBron have the ability, or the platform, to convince millions of people to love him more than Jordan? Not sure. Just like I’m not sure there is a quantifiable amount of indisputable evidence that can convince an 8 year old kid that their dad really isn't a Super Hero. But don't be that 8 year old. Save yourself the agony and stress that comes from picking one player over the other.

If you are a fan of basketball, the absolute best approach you can make is not to compare one to the other, instead just accept that both players are “great.” This appreciation will help you avoid falling into the irrational world us sports fans suffer with; the world where we attach an emotional reservoir to the statistics that confirm the narratives we love, and ignore the ones that done. Avoid expecting that other people believe the same narrative you do. Avoid the anger that comes from having to defend your childhood or demolishing someone else. But most importantly, enjoy the moment of watching a great player provide us with memories we will cherish, memories that we will one day use to build a narrative that describes his greatness.

In the meantime, just remember that "Sometimes I dream, that he is. You've got to see that's how I dream to be...."

The Agonizing and Wonderful Experience of being a Heat Fan

Currently hours away from what feels like the biggest moment of MY life; Game 7 of the NBA Finals. I know this shouldn't feel this way, well, at least to any rational person, but that is the beauty of being in-love with a team, in-love with the moment, and in-love with the happiness they bring when they succeed, that beauty, of course, is living life with an irrational mindset that what they do somehow gives your live purpose. If they succeed tonight, I'm a winner, if they lose, I'm a loser and the next week will be lived in a state of depression that even my birthday celebrations can't pull me out of.

I know nothing I do from here to now will affect the outcome, but believing it, is tougher. So I go through my day repeating the same superstitions; same socks, same shorts, brush my teeth a certain way, championship Heat hat, and my beloved Mike Miller jersey. I begin to act like some sort of Greek priest and try to find signs with whats going on around me: the wind is blowing from east to west meaning that the Heat will push the Spurs back home. I do this without realizing that I'm standing near a beach and that's the normal pattern of the ocean breeze on the east coast.

When the team you love is minutes away from what feels like the biggest game in its history, EVERYTHING matters, everything has meaning and the fact that I feel this way is why being a fan of the Miami Heat is as agonizing as it is wonderful since the Nation constantly tries to find different reasons to mock you. They interpreted some fans leaving Game 5 early as affirmation that all Heat fans are disloyal, but those same people shouting insults ignored Spurs fans clearing the building with 10 minutes left in Game 4. Why? Because in Miami's case they just wanted some evidence that solidifies their preconceived notion that all Miami fans are terrible in the same way a racist person interprets one act by a single person as a representation of their entire demographic. The nation didn't like The Decision, nor did they enjoy seeing fans celebrate their arrival. They were unable to realize that they would act in the same fashion if it was their team who went from a possible future with Chalmers and Beasley as their anchors, to Wade, LeBron and Bosh. What started as a moment of dislike, has  transformed itself into disgust the same way a girl begins to hate the way her boyfriend breathes once that relationship is nearing its end.

As a loyal fan, one who suffered with losing the Derrick Rose lottery then was stuck with game after game of Beasley, Chris Quinn, Ricky Davis and Q-Rich, one who felt the heartbreak of losing to Pacers in 2004 after the wonderful ride Wade gave us his rookie year, I confess to wasting time defending Heat fans, the same way someone defends their family although knowing they are imperfect. But now, the war of words ends and my team has the opportunity to shut every one up for another summer. So excuse me, since I have to get back to my rituals.

Until there is definitive proof that eating 6 jelly beans per quater does not directly impact the performance of my team, I will not stop doing so. Until then, this has to mean that there is a chance I'm making a difference, a chance that I don't plan on missing out on.

Now to counting. Go Heat!

The Day My Life Changed

I remember after miserably failing my first college test, in my favorite subject of math of all possible subjects. I tried to weasel my way out of it like how it worked for me countless times before in high school. By this stage of my life, I was a master at creating excuses; on cue too. I knew that the “perfect” excuse was something that was completely relatable, something that tugged at the heart strings of the teachers, tug at the heart strings, but my plan backfired. This teacher was having NONE of it when she told me that my grade was a reflection of my effort, then procceeded to cite the numerous times I came in late, wasn't paying attention while I spoke to a lady friend, or I flat out fell asleep. Then, in the same way baseball feels when it hits you upside your head, she proceeded to tell me that “Maybe, I wasn’t fit for college,” in that condescending tone of hers that I so desperately deserved. 

I'm not ashamed to say that I went back to my dorm that day and cried in disappointment, correction, BALLED in disappointed. All I can think about was how heartbroken my mom was going to be when she learned that her son just (MISERABLY) failed a test after how proud she was telling her friends that I decided to “ponerme las pilas” (get on the ball) and go to college, nor can I deal with the image of her ear-to-ear smile when she accompanied me to my freshman orientation.

However, something about those tears created a spark in me. My disappointment with my grade slowly turned into anger towards the effort I gave. How did I become "THAT" guy? The guy who didn't care, the guy who only cared about being cool? Right then and there, in my tiny little dorm, I made a promise to myself: I was going to not only get straight A’s in that class, but in all of my classes…..for the rest of my college career. If I didn’t earn an A, it wouldn’t be because I didn’t try.


That lady, whatever her name was, changed my life forever. I controlled my ego, I ate a big ol’ pie of humility and began studying and going to tutoring, two things I previously GROSSLY detested.  By the end of the semester my professor felt differently as I completed the rest of the year without getting a single question wrong, and completed college by graduating with the highest GPA in the school of business.


 In this process, I realized that not only was I capable of doing more but I actually enjoyed it. In addition, my mentality of “do your best or don’t do it all” has trickled into other parts of my life.  You probably wonder why in the world did I just post this, why would I spend the time writting this story, but the answer is simple. I’m currently reading “A Whole New Mind” by Daniel Pink and he’s instructed me to practice my storytelling.

Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to share similar events in your life that caused a paradigm shift in you attitude, perception and effort in the comments section below. J