LeBron James just went on a podcast and casually mentioned that if the Memphis Grizzlies had won the lottery and drafted him back in 2003, he would have “pulled an Eli Manning” and refused to play for them. The sheer, unfathomable arrogance. The absolute power to look at a billion-dollar franchise and say, “No thanks, the vibes are off.” I am in awe. I am also deeply, severely depressed by it.
The Ultimate Opt-Out
Do you know what I would do if someone drafted me to work in Memphis? I would pack my bags, move to Memphis, and spend the rest of my life apologizing to the locals for taking up space. LeBron just dictating his own reality is a superpower I cannot comprehend. I wish I could have pulled an Eli Manning on my own existence. “I’m sorry, universe, but I refuse to participate in this life. Please trade my consciousness to a golden retriever owned by a wealthy family in the suburbs.”
No Control Over Destiny
Athletes have so much control. I don’t even have control over the temperature in my own apartment because the thermostat is broken and I am too afraid to call the maintenance guy. LeBron James is out here altering the course of NBA history, and as I said earlier about Anthony Edwards, the disparity between superstars and my miserable life is just crushing. I’m going to eat cold soup from a can now.
