Greetings from the sports media. You know, we're the people with cameras and tape recorders and notebooks, the men and women constantly pestering you about where you're going to play next season, only you won't tell us, so then we have to speculate like junior high gossips whenever you wear a New York Yankees cap, and that means you get even more ink and airtime, thereby furthering your ambition of becoming a global icon, while at the same time we enjoy higher ratings, thereby furthering our ambitions of remaining employed instead of being replaced by Google newsbots.
Anyway, there's a problem here. A glitch in the Matrix, if you will. Sometime after the current NBA season, you're set to sign a new contract, either remaining with Cleveland or selecting a new professional city and team. Wherever you land, you'll probably break the bank with a long-term deal, and that's all well and good, except for one thing: You'll have landed somewhere, likely for the duration of your career, diminishing your news value and exposure while leaving us high and dry.
Unless, of course, you accept our modest proposal.
Here's the literal deal: We pay you $300 million over the next 10 years. In return, you agree to sign only one-year NBA contracts over the same time period, and agree never to sign with the same team twice. That way, every season is a LeBron lottery season: Will he go to Philadelphia? To Houston? Does the argyle sweater mean he's gearing up for cold weather in Minnesota? We get to yap and fortune-tell to our hearts' content, and you get to be the No. 1 sports news story for a decade to come, no matter how many home runs Jason Heyward hits. It's a win-win.
Think it through, LeBron. Think carefully. Understand: We probably can't talk exclusively about Tiger Woods and Brett Favre forever. But if you don't make this deal, you'll surely force us to try.
The sports media