LeBron James and "real-life stuff"

I swore I wasn't going to tune into ESPN to witness the most overhyped TV charade since Geraldo Rivera peeked into Al Capone's safe nearly 30 years ago and discovered it was empty (save for a few pockets of dust).

But with t-minus 2 minutes and counting until the clock struck 8:00 (CST) and LeBron James preparing to reveal to the world (finally) where he'll be ballin' the next few years, I succumbed to the hype and clicked my remote control.

Good evening, and welcome to The Decision -- not to be confused with Decision 2010, which will air later this year; or The Apprentice, or The Bachelor (or The Bachelorette). That's exactly how it was listed on my cable TV listings: The Decision.

Of course, ESPN played the drama queen card, and dragged King James' announcement out another 15 minutes as a roundtable of talking heads weighed in with their prognostications. Would King James, a native of Akron, Ohio, resist the overtures of big-market teams in New York, New Jersey, Los Angeles, Miami -- and my Chicago Bulls -- and return to reign over the Cleveland Cavaliers -- the club with whom he spent the past seven seasons?

Stay tuned. But first, these messages ...

Welcome back. Finally, the camera zooms in on King James, sitting across from sportscaster Jim Gray (whom he handpicked for this spectacle, along with ESPN) at the Boys & Girls Club's national headquarters in Greenwich, Connecticut.

Gray lobbed King James a few prefunctory questions, then -- at 22 minutes past the hour -- he posed The Question: So, Your Highness, have you made The Decision?

The King issued his edict: "I'm going to take my talents to South Beach."

A few minutes later, ESPN showed patrons at a Miami bar cheering wildly, then cut to a scene at a Cleveland bar, where understandable shouts of "Nooo!" and looks of dejection and disgust could be seen throughout the establishment.

But the backlash in and around a city snubbed by their former hero and King was just getting started. It didn't take long before video of Cleveland fans setting fire to their LeBron jerseys surfaced. Then Cavaliers majority owner Dan Gilbert posted a blistering open letter on the team's Web site, blasting James for his decision.

In fairness to LeBron, as a free agent, he had the right to sign with whatever team he wanted. Gilbert's rants made him sound more like an adolescent than a business owner while playing on the anger of Cleveland fans. And his vow that the Cavs would win an NBA title before Lebron does was downright silly. (I guess anything is possible, but if the Cavs couldn't win it all with Lebron, how do they think they're going to go about it without him?)

That said, Gilbert summed up what most of us who witnessed all the nonsense were thinking all along: LeBron engaged in several days of "narcissistic, self-promotional build-up culminating with a national TV special of his 'decision' unlike anything ever witnessed in the history of sports and probably the history of entertainment."

(Speaking of narcisscists, Rev. Jesse Jackson -- never one to miss out on a  photo-op -- got into the fray, saying Gilbert "spoke as an owner of LeBron and not the owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers ... his feelings of betrayal personify a slave master mentality. He sees LeBron as a runaway slave." Leave it to Jesse to come up with a cockamamie theory like this.)

I don't know who in LeBron's inner circle bent his ear to request TV time just to make this announcement (as if James were the president requesting TV time to address the nation on an urgent matter). As one columnist suggested, why didn't LeBron simply post his decision on Twitter and cut a check to the Boys and Girls Club, instead of opting for a nationally televised 3-ring circus which -- unintentional or not -- dissed the city and state which he calls home? It turned out to be a PR disaster for James who, prior to The Decision, was one of the more popular and admired athletes in the country. Not only is his national image tarnished, he may never live this down in northeast Ohio.

If that wasn't enough, James flew to his new digs and engaged in a second consecutive day of public self-immersion with his new superstar teammates, Chris Bosh and Dywane Wade.

Yet as ridiculous as all of the above has been, I found a statement uttered by some pie-in-the-sky co-anchor on ESPN just before The Decision aired to be equally as annoying.

Urging the masses to stay tuned, the co-anchor gushed, "This is real-life stuff."

Puh-leese.

In the real world, "real-life stuff " is wondering how you'll make ends meet, pay the mortgage and put your kid through college when both you and your husband lose your jobs within a matter of a few months. "Real-life stuff" is a distraught father, Bruno, pleading for prayer and advice after finding out his daughter was diagnosed with a Stage 4 brain tumor. (Both stories I've heard about recently.)

What is so "real life" about a professional basketball player worth an estimated $90 million turning down a max contract just so he could be on the same team with two other multi-millionaire basketball players and try to win a sports championship? (Keep in mind each of the Three Kings will end up socking away $100 million over 6 years, anyway.)

It's interesting that The Walt Disney Company owns ESPN. Because nowadays, I can't help but think I'm watching the Disney Channel instead of ESPN.