Like Kobe Bryant before you, you found that white people love and adoration can be a fleeting thing.
In seven seasons, you took the lowly Cleveland Cavaliers to the verge of an NBA championship. During this time, white people collectively said white things like: "He's so nice. So outgoing. So charitable. Not like those other thugs the league over."
What white people really meant was "He's just as white as us."
Heck, LBJ, you were even kind of nerdy, which is a rarity in the non-white, non-Asian community.
Without LeBron James, it would be highly doubtful if any white people would ever be fans of the National Basketball Association. Outside of Brian Scalabrine's immediate family, that is.
He was sincerely beloved in the whitest of circles.
A one-hour TV "special" to announce his free-agency plans and a change of scenery changed everything.
White people suddenly hated the craven, selfish douchebag. They set fire to his jersey. Derogatory nicknames for James became its own cottage industry.
"How dare he do this!" they cry. "Traitor!" they exclaim.
James' dramatic betrayal of the poor city of Cleveland — on national television — was a stunning feat in self-immolation.
To this day, white people hatred for James burns as hot as the Cuyahoga once did*.
One thing James can take comfort in is "Taking my talents to South Beach" is now a euphemism for another thing white people still love — masturbation.
Congrats, asshat.**
* - obligatory Cuyahoga River catching fire reference
** - what do you expect? I'm white!
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