#TheLeBronSeries L.A. KING

King Of The Hollywood Hills.

By TIM DAVID HARVEY

"Make sure he doesn't get Zydrunas Ilgauskas"! No disrespect Zee. You're one of the greatest bigs of our generation. But I got to touch the hem of the garment of the chosen one. It's 15 years ago and my dad whose away on business in New York has put me on the phone with a customer in the NBA Store. He's running the floors trying to get a number 23 jersey in Cleveland wine and gold. You see some kid called LeBron has just become a Cavalier and this sought after James jersey may be the most wanted since...well another 23, Jordan. Or at least a 24 Kobe. Who knows what this teenager will do. The champagne he will drink. The decisions he will make. The schools he'll build. How valuable he'll really be. He's just a kid from Akron, Ohio. But I'm just one the same age from a small seaside town in England, a train ride away from where The Beatles were born. I got to have a piece of history. Fast forward a decade and a half later to this summer and this writer is on vacation in Hong Kong, pre-ordering a number 23 purple and gold jersey, trimmed like Showtime in sunday white. Waiting for me when I come home. I don't need to youtube the unboxing. Like Tom Hanks talking about his wife in 'Saving Private Ryan', this moments just for me. Wish came true like the right lapel. He's just done it like Nike and left. The seams finally make it seem real. And on the other side of his beloved since age 11, '96 class of Eddie Jones and Nick Van-Exel pre-Shaq and Kobe Lakers, the name reads James.

Block. Missed shot. Buzzer. Love embraces. Red eyes. Hit the deck. You did it. Vows are vows. Two Summers ago. It's gone past half-three in the morning but on the other side of the water "Believeland", Cleveland is awake. Have you seen Ohio rise? As this writer is up all night in his living room with a special someone watching LeBron James bring the championship back home just like he said he would. Reversing decisions and all the hate that comes with this type of wrote off talent. But you can't erase engraving, no matter how Leonardo long it takes. Everyone gets their chance for 'Revenant' revenge. You just got to claw that bear. A lion would. That, or more likely the beautiful girl is why I'm up this late, or early with work the next day. Because you only get this type of moment once in your life. And I aint even Cavalier. But tonight I'm all in for Cleveland. All for one and one for all. And not just because my Lakers are never getting past those Steph Curry with the shot Golden State Warriors, who in just a few weeks in second place is the first loser, runner up reaction will add the second best player in the league, Kevin Durant to spell dynasty. And don't scoff but I aint one for League Pass. We're like six or seven hours ahead of the U.S. over here in the U.K. So your evenings don't even get started for us until way after the mid-nite hour. And I work minimum wage...what else did you expect I'm a writer?! And I'm not going to pay hundreds of dollars for something I can't even watch without the outcome being either spoiled on Twitter the next day like 'Game Of Thrones'. Or resulting in me being fired for being a no show like the only other Laker fan I know in this town (Just playing. You're still the man Stock. Just checking you're reading). Besides I got Netflix. But still I'll pay for this one. There I was lying on the floor, she got the couch. Running around in circles wooping like Homer Simpson when Mr. Burns told him he could have free health care or something of that nature. You don't want to miss your "where were you when" place in history. That's why I booked tickets for two games this November for the King's debut in La La Lebronland for what was the Lonzo Angeles Lakers even before I booked my flights that didn't even cost half as much. Much like the steal deal I got on a room at the iconic Hotel Figueroa looking over STAPLES across the way, whose three pillars I'm sure by then will be a monument to the King. The last time I saw him play live was as a rookie in Toronto. Heck, I did the same for Kobe's retirement tour. Number 23, number 24. Seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five times a year. At the risk of 'Kamikaze' sounding like an Eminem revival, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime. Lose yourself in this game. Like Pistons in Detroit it'll take you further than 8 miles Bad Boy.

2012, year of the Olympic Games in London. Both Team USA's are in the Giant city of Manchester about to play a tune up against the British home representative and my sister is on the phone from a bar in the Spinningfields area. "Get your a## over here now! You just missed two basketball players"! "Who"?! I replied a quarter in disbelief, three in hope they're still there. "LeRoy Jones and Karl Bryan"! She was a little worse for wear. A lot taking the p###! "LEBRON JAMES AND KOBE BRYANT" I replied like Monica off 'Friends' correcting Phoebe's French pronunciation of Nestle...the secret to her Grandma's cake recepie. "Your idols"! Well little does she know that's actually her. But still I can't believe it. You won't believe how much I was kicking myself like this was football. I missed Kobe and LeBron. By a couple of drinks. I wish I did. I'll say it again. I can't believe I missed them. Just like I can't believe there now both part of the same family franchise and fraternity. Los Angeles Lakers legends and hopefully banner worthy ring bearers and champions. Bleeding purple and living gold. The number 23 on media day that will likely meet the rafters like he did the press yesterday makes it more believable, but still. The King in the same club as Big Game James. You know he's worthy. All the bigs like Shaq, Wilt, Mikan and Kareem. Not to mention the logo, the player he most resembles in Elgin and the actual Magic man who pulled a lion out the crown and brought him here for the President Johnson and Rob Lowe, Hollywood dream of Jeannie off the bus administration himself. Number 32 gives us the 33 year old leader of the best young Warrior like death line-up core. A nucleus that's only missing the cleared cap space of new Cavs, Jordan and junior. Who were switched in return for little running mate Isaiah Thomas who you know wasn't going to make the final cut like Michael K. Williams down the wire in 'Solo'. And sadly of course the power of Randle (but who knows maybe another Kentucky big from New Orleans will Pelican fly over next summer. Now a dub migrating Cousins can't relate). But this is us. LeBron's number 2, number 2 jersey and draft pick Lonzo Ball, who is set to blow aswell as set the table. The real rookie of the Lakers last year in the Kyle Kuzma steal who has bodied up this summer like Beyonce's 'Ape####' raps body beau Jay-Z in Paris' Louvre. And the Durant skinny on Brandon Ingram who LeBron simply tells us to "watch out" for because he's got next. Who better to take these kids to the promised land of the basketball bible than King? And then there's the misunderstood mob on the bench. Warrior champ McGee following former friend of the Miami Heat parade Michael Beasley. The cerebral Rajon Rondo whose vision will help guide Lonzo and whose a###hole competitivness matches only Kobe (who he sadly even after a Boston breakfast never got to get down with) and 'Bron who is starting to mirror the Mamba muse in the frank microphones of his press conferences. And who could forget the huff and puff of wildcard Lance Stephenson as your and one?! This "dog" is about to blow the house down. Lend us your ears.

Why I love this game. I could count the ways like I was going to for a 'Why I Love' feature that would stretch across all my movie, music, travel and book blogs which I still may do one day when I get the time. I could tell you I loved it because of the greatest. My M.J. I'm sorry Mr. Jackson. Or because of the Lakers who I supported since 11 because my big sis did (told you she was my idol). As besides I couldn't just glory Jordan's Bulls and who knows who my closest geographical team was back then (Boston! Can you believe that?). Or because Shaq was the most entertaining man in all of Hollywood. Or number 24 was my 23 before this one. Or how I was dazzled by Earvin's true magic behind the back, Rabbit out the hat like no Blaine card could pull, play, cut or ace in the hole be my king of hearts. Or how Kareem now inspires me at the same age as his jersey more as a journalist and autobiography writer than he did as an all-time points leading player. And I think nothing sinks like the line of the sky-hook. Thank you for your 'Becoming' and 'Coach Wooden and Me' audio description Kindle company during the toughest times of my life away in China. Or Wilt's 100. Not to mention Bean's 81. Or how the symbol himself Jerry West showed me you could still fight for victory, despite being a victim of depression. Or the last lines of Elgin Baylor's signed autobiography I hold on to, sitting next to an autographed photo framed by defensive specialist, Michael Cooper. Who I cut a rug with before one of Kobe's last dances. Or any of the jerseys hung in my room like rafter tributes. The good doctor. The Jordan Bullet repping how much his Washington term meant for the families of victims of 9/11 (look it up. If you don't know. Now you know. Now that was B.I.G. from the G.O.A.T.). Or anything to do with him and his game. The shot. The shrug. The crossover...on him. The answer. The step over. That I shouldn't love like how much I do the Boston Celtics. What's up Walt McCarty! So glad I met you in LAX. Big shot Bob. Rick Fox. John Salley. Brian Grant. Shake it 'till you make it champ. Or just about anything to do with the ball and basket. From here to overseas. Jordan to Drazen (Rest Peacefully). From the squeak of the sneakers, to the swish of the net, the only thing better is sex. I could go on. And I promise I will in longform one day. But the real reason I love this game belongs to a kid in France whose name I'll never know. But he was rocking the basketball Jones number 6 purple and gold (that's how good a Laker he was before Kobe). So lets call him Eddie. Anyway my school trip classes coach is passing the tarmac of a local court near our hotel and I sitting on the one seat on its own not 'Forrest Gump' taken (bullying is a b####) look out the window to see Eddie trying to hang with this group of older kids scrimmaging. Only for him to be pushed away and mocked as he takes his ball home. A sorry sight. He's just a kid. He just wants to play. Until later that night I look out the hotel window at the end of the dining table eating alone to see this same kid, same jersey back on his own. Under the last lights of the court, bullies gone home, they can't hang, playing with the love for this game glee. And you know what? He makes every shot! Every. Shot! And THAT'S why I love this game. Not because of number 23 or number 23. But Eddie. Here's to ya. He's all of us. He's the game. Which can be played one on one. Or just one. As a matter of fact he's the chosen one too. He's LeBron. The one who did it all kingdom come. Put the game on his back and broad shoulders like the Carter. "Take off the blazer, loosen the tie. Superman is alive!" No matter who witnessed the burning of his robes, or those who tried to throw rocks at the throne like he tossed up chalk. Can you believe there is even Los Angelinos wanting to mark the King's regal mural dedication? No matter what they said. Remember how they all wanted to hang Tiger for something that just maybe all his peers do when no ones watching even before this toxic Twitter trend of a cancel culture? A master of history. A great of his game like Mike, or Ali who like all of us are human and have made mistakes and paid the price. Well now Woods was back on the fairway for 80 this Sunday gone, killing everyone after he put on that red shirt like 'Star Trek' it's all cheers. The ultimate victory. Like L.B.J. carrying his home to the throne after South Beach decisions (or how about how his choice redefined player power and rights that need to extend to the WNBA in this locked out league of collective bargaining over chips?) when they say he never could go home. And when did he hear that...when he was back home. And now going West like Kanye or a Pet Shop Boy, Hollywood is home now and another 23 can ball with Bugs and make another 'Space Jam' too. This ones for all the credits. Warrior Monstar's beware. You better get some more powers in that ball you all share. And this mogul like Magic has got more than money (or movies like Kobe) on his mind when he gets down to business. Shut up Trump and the cabinet like! He's going to do more than just dribble out the locker room. This trophy like Oscar is for the real walk of fame. All the way to the hall call. And in leading the next generation with a forever 21, Ronaldo like durability as a thirtysomething he can do this and more all on his own. Because he's the one like the kid from a small seaside town a train ticket from John, Paul, George and Ringo. The kid from France balling until the floodlights fade. Or just the kid from Akron. Just witness. Like we all will.