outgifted

Valentine's Day this year was pretty poor for me in the gift selection department. I try not to buy crap that theMonica won't really like, but I was plum out of ideas. (Plums! Damn. Hello birthday gift.) So, being a guy, I bought her a vacuum cleaner for tidying up my apartment. No, I bought her tulips. She likes tulips and I opted for an "upgraded" vase (i.e. differently shaped), but overall I felt like I had dropped the ball. What did theMonica do? theMonica picked up that ball and dished to me coming off a screen on the baseline where I nailed a 15-foot jumper. (You listening Damon Jones?) theMonica gave me the gift of LeBron James. Tickets in the club seats, with comped food and drinks - delivered by a waitress. And it was on Anderson Varajeo wig night.

My gift's ass got kicked. We all know there is a tacit competition in every relationship in which you try to outgift your special someone. The winner is always gracious and always thanks profusely for the weaker, dull gift, often convincingly. But in reality, the real joy comes in getting something better than what you got. The joy is not in giving, but in giving better. And I lost - hard. Tulips vs. LeBron? Tulips could not stop LeBron. LeBron could post-up tulips, drive by them, dish off to an open Sasha Pavlovich, gather them in a nice floral arrangement and hand them to the nearest cheerleader WHILE hitting a game-winning 3. (He's saving it for the playoffs.) LeBron is not even allergic to tulips. And even if he were a running nose and itchy eyes could not stop LeBron either. Tulips, don't bring that shit! Your glory days came in 1630's Holland. Well, it's 2006 and we're in Cleveland.

I sense you are having trouble appreciating what I'm trying to tell you. Let me illustrate it for you:


What's that? It's an empty box? Damn right it's an empty box. I can not pixellate the perfected basketball form. I would go blind from merely attempting it. It's heresy!

And I'm not prone to adulating my pro sports players. I have a solid contrarian streak. I find myself disliking things which many others love, mainly because I want to think I'm superior in some way. It's the constant solace of a small mind. In that light, as quality as a professional athelete may appear, constant exposure to their performances always yields a wart a two, which I tend to pick at ceaselessly until an infection develops and I spend 8 days in the Cleveland Clinic. But, with LeBron, it's not really possible. How can I nitpick when he literally made me shout, "Oh my God!" during one of the Cavaliers's games? That is not LIKE me. I am a calm guy. I do not shout "Oh my God!" at the TV. But LeBron made me do it.

He continues to amaze and exceed ever-expanding expectations. Seeing him play in high school, I was impressed that he didn't try to put up 80 in a false attempt to prove his worth. He scored easily and he clearly outclassed everyone, but that was high school. In high school I was 5'4" and had salt poured in my hair by a senior. I liked what I saw, but the competition obviously wasn't world-class. I thought LeBron would be good, but in time. Instead he was good right away. And he's only gotten better. By a lot, all the time.

LeBron is that good and that special and that fun to watch. He's everything you could hope for in a basketball player and he makes a kick-ass Valentine's Day gift.