The Fountain of Youth
There’s isn’t a 37-year-old on the planet who should be able to do what LeBron James did on Monday
LeBron James is no spring chicken. He’s not a whipper snapper or a young gun. He’s 37 years old. He has nearly 19 NBA seasons on the ol’ engine block. We all know about his hairline. Father Time is watching the situation closely. Like Tom Brady before him, however, James has poured money and science into his body for years. In concert with his preternatural ability and genetic makeup, this has resulted in the closest thing to a basketball cyborg the world has seen since Kareem. Don’t believe us? You don’t have to. The proof is all right here.
We are speechless. We are without speech. It’s been at least a couple years since James has the lane-driving freight train he once was. There was a time when James was the most terrifying spectacle in sports. He looked like a defensive end playing basketball. He would line up opposing bigs like teensie weensie little Bambis in the headlights of his Mack truck and dump the clutch. As some of his athleticism has waned, his game has changed accordingly, but Monday night—particularly this public sacrifice of Kevin Love—was a throwback; one of those fine vintages LBJ loves so much.
That dunk was just the cherry on top of an all-round dominant performance from James, however. He put up 38/12/11 in his return to Cleveland, good for a triple double and a 131-120 win for the Lakeshow. The only downside? It had to come at the expense of his good buddy …
Maybe James is softening in old age after all …