The upside to being LeBron James’ kid: money, instant fame, athletic genes. The downside, everything else. As a general truism, it’s better to be the wildly successful guy than the kid of the wildly successful guy. Living life with a crazy high bar above your head must suck.
Lebron Jr., “Bronny” is headed down the same childhood path as his father. Minus the part about growing up mega-wealthy in Hollywood. No offense to Akron, but Akron is so shitty that people from Akron tell people they’re from Cleveland. Bronny’s sixteen now and already making the circuit of uber-elite prep schools in Los Angeles where he plays basketball and gives tons of wealthy white parents the chance to see their teams be put on national television. His current prep school, Sierra Canyon, has an equestrian team and keeps horses if that gives you some idea. Dywane Wade’s non-gay son also plays ball there. It’s fairly stacked.
Bronny and LeBron were back in Akron where junior was playing in a high-level high school exhibition game at LeBron’s old high school. The one where LeBron paid for a new arena that the St-Vicent-St Mary’s school randomly decided to name after LeBron. God works in mysterious ways. Half million dollar donations less so.
Bronny’s club team is called Strive for Greatness, though the unabridged name is Strive for Greatness as Great as LeBron. The man who tried to copyright Taco Tuesday is not above self-aggrandizement. He’s certainly not below it. They were playing the Wildcat Select, which now sounds completely unimaginative in the context of this game of future basketball stars. I have Mastercard Select and my credit rating is lower than LeBron’s SAT Math score. So what’s in a name?
The stage is set. LeBron Jr. and his team playing in LeBron James Arena, with LeBron James screaming like a fairly typical sports dad on the floor row of the bleachers down at the baseline. The dude obviously couldn’t afford center court. Because these games get intense and because it is Akron and because you’re looking at a billion dollars of future NBA talent on the court, both cops and private security were quite visible. Like that would stop LeBron. His black life matters in particular.
Toward the end of the game, the P.A. announcer in the arena indicated that a foul was called against the teen defending Bronny, and added apparently for purely dick reasons that the whistle was blown on the foul because the refs know it’s LeBron’s kids and they’re in LeBron’s eponymous arena. That’s a weird thing for a public address announcer to say on the mic. Very weird. We’ve all been to tons of games and not heard that kind of editorial from the guy generally announcing substitutions, 3-pointers, and that a hot dog, chips, and a soda are only $4 at the snack stand. It’s an overly obvious and unnecessary zinger.
LeBron was not going to stand for that. Or sit for that, as he rose from his seat, pushed past the security rope, and made his way to confront the P.A. announcer. Or the man who will surely be known within minutes as the former P.A. announcer at LeBron James Arena. Ownership has its privileges.
The game was halted momentarily as LeBron spoke truth to power at the announcer’s table. LeBron did have a point. I’m an arrogant obnoxious self-promoter who shills for Nike and the CCP, but why lay that on my kid? And in the middle of his basketball game. As if just being LeBron’s kid and playing basketball isn’t pressure enough. The Xanax tabs must be flowing like sand through the hourglass. The son is never as strong as the dad who built the empire. Though in the movie version dad will come to discover and admire his son for his skills in watercolor work.
In the background of the video, you can hear a few people telling LeBron to sit down and let’s get on with the game. This is the Midwest after all. They don’t genuflect and reflexively kowtow to celebrities like on the coasts. Eventually, the staff people who deal with obnoxious sports dads got LeBron back to his seat, where he was allowed to keep his pouty face. Lots of sports dads likely identify with LeBron’s dramatic mid-game intervention, at least the ones who’ve been asked to leave Little League games as somebody points to the “No Cursing, Your Children Hear Everything” sign.
This is a tough one for LeBron haters. Another example of LeBron granting himself executive privilege above all others. Yet, most definitely a jerky move by the P.A. announcer. Even if his premise was more than plausible. Why spit that into your little microphone during game action. You’re not Tony Romo with a producer giving you the signal to say something contentious because the football game onscreen is pretty boring. And, goddammit, this is LeBron James Arena. You don’t call out Jesus in church. There are alleyways full of emptied whiskey bottles for that.
