I was reminded again of the interview Kareem Jabbar left in Sports Illustrated after the 1985 finals. "My life should be like Cyrano de Bergerac, an absolute swordsman who should have laughed long and fought fifty men with swords, but died suddenly on a piece of wood that rolled down from the roof and hit his head. The option to choose our fate should not be in our own hands."
The last time a player of this caliber and age battled in the playoffs can only be traced back nearly half a century. Watching them mobilize their entire body of skills, struggle to survive, plan their physicality, display their positional sense, experience and game instincts while their athleticism and energy fail is undoubtedly a supreme pleasure. Their dignity was challenged by the young players, or they were knocked to the ground, or barely held their incisors, but either way, they delivered themselves completely, waiting for that log to roll off the beam and the moment when their heads broke and they made a fool of themselves in full view of the world.
When will the log belonging to LeBron fall? I don't know. But I'll be watching his playoff trip this year. I missed Jabbar, I can't miss another NBA ICH.
