Like much of America, I suddenly find myself hating the Miami Heat. It's not so much that I want to hate them, it's more that I have no choice. I hate the Heat because of what I love.
I love gifted players who want to chase greatness, and so I hate the Heat. I hate the way
I love teams that walk it before they talk it, and so I hate the Heat. I hate that preening, cocky, over-the-top welcoming celebration they had in Miami.
I love the concept of true sacrifice, and so I hate the Heat. I hate that the Three My-Egos are being painted as a bunch of Mother Teresas who have taken a vow of poverty when all they've done is forego a small percentage of what are still obscenely huge salaries. I hate that we have become so accustomed to the overwhelming greed of superstar athletes that when the Heat's threesome accepts roughly $110 million each when they could have had closer to $120 million, some people want to fit them for angels' wings.
I love a competitively balanced league in which the biggest stars have the fiercest rivalries, and so I hate the Heat. I hate that this may be the beginning of franchise players making a mad dash to team up and consolidate most of the best players on just a few teams. Already
I love fans who have an emotional attachment to one team and stay faithful to that team, win or lose, and so I hate the Heat. They have given front-runner fans a new bandwagon to jump on. People who couldn't have named a single one of Wade's teammates weeks ago will now declare themselves to be Heat lovers, decking themselves out in Miami gear with cutesy phrases like Miami Thrice and the Three Basketeers. All those fans who like the Yankees just because they win, or were devoted to the Bulls until
The strange thing is that I've always liked Bosh, James and Wade individually. But I hate the way they formed this group, which means there's going to be a lot to hate about this NBA season. Unless, of course, the Heat fail to win the title that they seem to think is a formality. That, I would love.