LeBron James has signed with Philadelphia. Before that, he told Steve Nash that after the Lakers’ playoff elimination by Oklahoma City, he had wondered whether it was the end, at random moments, on game days or on planes. He then stopped touching a ball for a month and a half to two months.
He also has a declared rival: “There’s this whole story around ‘Father Time.’ I’ve really made it a competition with him on the basketball court,” he said.
A month and a half without a ball, for us, that’s summer, mind you. The hall is closed, the caretaker repaints the badminton lines and the minibus waits for September. Nobody wonders if it’s the end: we know it comes back, because someone has to open up. I’ve asked myself the same question too, once a year, for almost twenty years, while counting the tokens at the club bar. And every time, in August, I’ve picked the key back up. I’m not jealous, I’m a club president. I wish him, in Philadelphia, someone who locks up after his three days on the court. Me, I’ve still got the chairs to stack.
Philadelphia becomes his new address. The competition against “Father Time” carries on.
It’s true, we checked: Basket USA.
