Brilliant.
Extraordinary.
Artist.
Devastator.
Maestro.
Cobradick.
He was supposed to be a choker. A guy who shrank in the big moments. LeBrick. And after roughly one billion articles disparaging him after the Heat dropped game 5 to the Boston Celtics, it was apparent that LeBron James' demise was once again imminent.
So the Heat traveled to Boston. Got the kind of classy welcome you'd come to expect from Boston. And apparently got ready to get sent home from the NBA playoffs while the Celtics practiced the Eastern Conference Championship trophy celebration.
And then the game started. And LeBron showed up and said:
And then he led the Miami Heat to the 98-79 beatdown of the Boston Celtics to force a Game 7 in Miami.
With the Heat facing an embarrassing elimination and the certain avalanche of shit to come from fans and media alike in the wake of failure, and with Celtics fans breathing down their drunken assholery all over the team, and no one knowing how shitty the Heat role players might be on this particular night, one man had the coal fire nuts to make a stand against the sea of green douche and obliterate their hopes and dreams into a fine powder: LeBron Raymone James, aka COBRADICK.
LeBron was an absolute freight train of devastation, cockpunching the Boston defense with his basketball prowess, littering the court with the decaying corpses of the Celtics and telling any and all who doubt him, mock him, and otherwise say ridiculous things about him, to go and fornicate with farm animals.
With a primal intensity usually reserved for professional assassins and lions pouncing and gorging on a herd of caribou, LeBron came through with what was quite possibly the single greatest one-man performance you've ever witnessed in a playoff basketball game. In a hostile environment, in an elimination game, no less. He threw down massive dunks, hit jumpers with ease, hit three pointers and dropped his cinderblock of a penis right on Paul Pierce's foot on his way to a 45 point, 15 rebound, 5 assist night.
James went 19-for-22 last night, which is just crazy shit bananas. He also scored 22 points in the paint. And he did it all in the face of incessant scrutiny, derisiveness, and outright contempt from the national media who live to tear him down while building up monuments of myth with invented and fictional notions like "clutch gene," and clever monikers like "LeChoke."
But once the smoke clears and the poison subsides (at least up until before Saturday's Game 7), all that's left is this: LeBron James is simply the greatest basketball player on the planet. Yes, Kevin Durant is outstanding. Derick Rose is fantastical. But they're not LeBron James. Sift through the endless thicket of hate and venom and irrational over the top disdain, and what's revealed is the truth. And the truth is, and has always been, that LeBron is a once-in-a-generation player. Transcendent. Brilliant. Fucking AMAZEBALLS.
And while we've seen it time and time again throughout these playoffs, and this series (Game 1: 32, 13, 3; Game 2: 34, 10, 7; Game 3: 34, 8, 5; Game 4: 29, 6, 3; Game 5: 30, 10, 2; Game 6: 45, 15, 5), people still questioned his ability, his desire, his intestinal fortitude.
So LeBron showed up, stoic and unnerved, unzipped his pants, and unleashed his massive Cobradick and proceeded to ravage all of New England with it. The sonic boom of the Cobradick was felt all the way from Rhode Island, throughout Vermont, into every sports bar (SPOAHTS BAH!) in Southie, every college campus, brownstone, alley, backway, highway, freeway, alleyway, into Fenway Park (FENWAY PAAAHHKK!) and every residential district in between. Just a force of nature annihilating buildings and crushing cars in its massive engorged wake. People ran for their lives. Buildings caught on fire. The police and fire departments were helpless to stop it. All they could do was watch as the Cobradick demolished their helpless city into a massive heap of crushed brick, and twisted metal. OH THA FACKIN HUMANATEEEE!!!
LeBron took the "savvy veteran" Celtics, Paul Pierce's "clutch" shots. Kevin Garnett's unbridled intensity, Rajon Rondo's flair, and Doc Rivers' genius, shoved them all into a cannon, packed them in nice and tight with his massive dong, lit the fuse, and shot them all face-first into a brick wall. And then he went outside and body slammed a police horse for no reason.
So now the Heat head home for a winner-take-all Game 7. And while they'll need another big game from His Royal Cobradickness, the other dudes need to pull their weight too.
This is by no means over.
But one thing is for certain.
We have the greatest basketball player in the world playing on our side.
Never forget that cold hard fact.
Game 7 is at the American Airlines Arena. Tipoff is at 8:30.
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