Friday, July 09, 2010

King LeBron, a Tragicomedy

This is a parody I whipped up about yesterday's outrageous press conference regarding where LeBron James will be playing basketball next season, and about his egomania generally. It's based on the first scene of King Lear.

King LeBron
A tragicomedy, by William Shakespeare

Act I, Scene 1

Enter ESPN and CBS

I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Cleveland than Chicago or New York.

It did always seem so to us. But now in the auction of the kingdom it appears not which of the Dukes he values most.

Enter LeBron, Cleveland, Chicago, New York, Jay-Z of Jersey, Miami, Los Angeles, and media attendants

Now we shall express our darker purpose.
Give me the map there. Know that we have discussed
With six our kingdom; and 'tis our fast intent
To sell the skills and business of our age,
Combining them with offensive strengths, so we
Unhindered can drive toward titles. Our Duke of Cleveland,
Jay-Z of Jersey, and no less loving Duke of New York -
We have this hour a constant will to publicize
Our numerous suitors, that our head
May be inflated. The others, Chicago, LA, Miami,
Great rivals in our dazzling player's love,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answered. Tell me, my suitors,
Since now we will divest us of self-respect,
With interest of territory, cares of fame,
Which of you shall we say doth love us most,
That we our massive bounty may extend
Where millions doth with merit challenge. Chicago,
Of Jordanian legacy, speak first.

Sir, I love you more than news can hype the matter,
Dearer than highlights, press, and dignity,
Beyond what can be valued rich or rare,
No less than life, with rings, wealth, ticketholders,
As much as GM e’er loved or sponsor found;
A love that makes fans poor and foes unstable;
Beyond all manner of ‘so much’ I love you.

Cleveland (aside):
What shall Cleveland speak? Love, and be silent.

Of all these offers, even from this day to this,
With shadowy meetings and with champagnes rich,
With plenteous flashbulbs and wide-winged jets,
We make thee wait. What says our second suitor,
Our dearest New York, keeper of billboards?

New York
I am made of more mettle than Chicago
And can outprice his claim. In my true heart
I find he names my very deed of love;
Only he comes too short, that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other teams
Which the most precious slammer of dunks considers,
And find I am alone felicitate
In your dear highness’ net worth.

Cleveland (aside)
Then poor Cleveland!
And yet not so, since I am sure my love’s
More ponderous than my checkbook.

To thee and thine citizenry then
Remain this ample show of indecision,
No less in span, drama, and displeasure
Than that conferred on the others. - Now, our home,
Although our last and least, whose seasoned love
with lines of kids in shirts of burgundy
Strives to be impressive: what can you say to draw
A deal more opulent than the others? Speak!

Nothing, my lord.

Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again.

Unhappy that I am, I cannot match
My heart unto your ego. I love your majesty
As much as a hundred million, no more nor less.

How, how, Cleveland! Mend your cap a little
Lest you may mar your fortunes.

Good my lord,
I have begot you, bred you, loved you.
Why have New Yorkers Yankees, if they say
They love you all? Happy I was when I signed you,
A lord whose hand did take my plight and carry
All my team with him, all my care and duty.
But I shall never again marry as such,
To love my franchise player all.

But goes thy heart with this?

Aye, my good lord.

So pissed, and so untender?

So pissed, my lord, and true.

Let it be so! Thy truth then be thy cash cow!
For by the sacred radiance of South Beach,
The mysteries of the Heat and the night,
By all the operation of the orb
With which we do dribble, or cease to play,
Here I endow all my contractual care,
Propinquity and property of brand,
To thee, Miami, now. The glorious Wade
And Bosh, who made entreaties to their bosses
To gorge our appetite for wins, shall be
As well neighboured, outscored, and relieved
As thou my sometime teammates.

Good my liege –

Peace, Jay-Z!
Come not between the phenom and his cash.



Blogger cellini said...

The Bard smiles.
Well done, Dor!

10:00 AM  
Blogger Isolato said...

He's either smiling or rolling in his grave. Thanks Aunt Laura.

2:40 PM  

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