The scary part is that while he played a complementary role on Sunday, this game he seemed to decide that it was time to beast. Like an 800 lb Silver Sack Gorilla, one could see James pounding his chest all but shouting out, “King Kong ain’t got nothing on me.”
James led Miami with 35 points and seemed more animated and determined than ever before in a Heat uniform.
He showered fans with hard dunks, accented with the rub-it-in-your-face swing on the rim. Blocks in which he looked as though he was trying to decapitate the ball. Picking up and one, then strolling over to Boston’s bench in a wrestler like strut.
Poor Kevin Garnett, it almost didn’t even seem fair to watch James defy gravity as KG realized he was no longer 26. That was the kind of evening that it was for James; he came out and showed why he is the true league MVP.
On a day where Derrick Rose was officially announced as the league’s top player, James showed why the award is little more than a popularity contest.
Ask any of those writers who voted for Rose who they would take right now if they were a league GM and had the pick of the litter. It would be hard to believe that James wouldn’t come out on top of that poll.
Despise him for his choices and antics, envy him for his fortune and skills. Whatever the case admit to yourself that James may well be on his way to being one day regarded as the G.O.A.T. But is he even the best player on his team?
On to Game 3, and, as James stated, “just really looking forward to going to Boston.”
Something tells me the people of Boston suddenly don’t feel the same.