Hating someone is more fun than loving them. That's for sure. I have loved my wife for more than a decade. I love my first daughter, and the second one that's due in 4 months, too. I love my stupid dogs. My dogs love to eat rocks. It's wonderful and I'd never change it.
It's also kind of boring, though. When I wake up in the morning, I know I'm still going to adore being slobbered on by the animals and children I permit to live in my home. I feel, deep in my bones, that I will cherish every bite of cake or donut or cakey donut I allow myself to have during the day. That's dull, isn't it? It's predictable. It's chocolatey, but predictable.
Hate, though? Wow, hate feels good. Really good. Why wouldn't you enjoy hating? It's so cathartic. Exciting, too. For instance, I hate that motherfucker who passed me in the right lane. That's unsafe as hell, you idiot; I hope you flip your car into a dragon's mouth. I hate the cruel ass C++ Daedalus who gets off remotely trying to watch me unsubscribe from the 12 million or so Disney e-mail newsletters I get every hour, on the hour. I hate Sarah Palin. And I hate something new every day! It takes time and effort to earn my love, but I'm handing hate out by the bucketful at a little roadside stand by the Cracker Barrel. Come on down, I'll be the guy sitting under an umbrella and wearing jean shorts. Yes, I'm asleep, and yes, I'm flipping you the bird.
Hating is so much fun it's become a divergent concept. You can hate slamming your stupid fat thumb in the refrigerator door, or you can be a "hater" for advising your sister-in-law that maybe age 28 is a good time to get rid of the Justin Bieber sheets, fitted sheets, pillow cases, duvet cover, and, wow is it....is it on the duvet, too? What are you, a screen printer? Jesus. Oh, his ass is on the underside. Nice, Karen.
Everyone loves to hate, and that's why LeBron isn't mad at you. Not anymore. But it's time to become a man, and put away the childish things. LeBron is ready to welcome you with open arms - all he asks is that you love him.
And is that so bad? To want to be loved? Shaq wants to be loved and, while we'd all be happier if he took a few classes at Second City or stopped talking, we've always loved him. Yes, of course, LeBron needs our attention, but if the "Live Events" line item on Bill Russell's Chase bill is any indication, he's not the only one. And sure, James actively searched out talented teammates to win a title, but I just read a half-dozen The Mythos of Ray Allen posts before lunch, none of which mentioned his offseason turd-flinging in Boston.
Once you open yourself up to the possibility of loving LeBron, you'll see how easy it is. An incredible mamma-jamma dunk registers smiles instead of eyerolls. A composed, un-Popovichian sideline interview makes you feel pride, not contempt. And wasn't it uncomfortable hating LeBron, knowing you were on the same side of the aisle as most of the people commenting under Daily Dime posts. Icky, isn't it? A little embarrassing, in retrospect? It's like reading old yearbook signatures or watching home movies. God....Did I really used to sound like that? Yeah, you did. But it's okay, you're with LeBron now.
"But," you'll say, and LeBron already hears you. Hating him was fun, and now there's one less thing to hate. What a bummer. No! Now you can hate the LeBron haters! And they're a dumb lot, too, boy.
LeBron did lot of good things in the paint in 4th q and OT but refs saved him from being the goat (instead of G.O.A.T.) w/ 3 late turnovers.— Skip Bayless (@RealSkipBayless) June 19, 2013
Now I'm going to go watch some LeBron highlight videos and try to guess where he's going when his contract is up next summer. I can't wait. Join me, won't you?