Lebron makes the first move and dives off of the free agency diving board, cannon-balling into the Miami Beaches alongside Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh. His hopes are that the seismic splash from his 6-8 285 pound frame and the promise of handfuls of jewelry, will bring all the hotties down to South Beach to party with the King.
Carmelo, toking up in Denver, is plotting his own way into the senoritas hearts. He believes the tattoed-stoner crowd he hangs with now has held him back, and he is debating whether to bail and hang with the cool kids in New York and Brooklyn. Part of him wants to be the most popular kid in school again but the other part of him just cant turn down all of that free weed! For now he chills by the pool, splitting bong rips with the Birdman, contemplating how many jumbo jacks his 85 million dollar extension would buy him. Wait… that’s like..5..no 7…wait is KFC still open?
On the other side of town, CP3 is hosting a Cajun style cookout. Pumping out jumbalya, gumbo and plate fulls of crawfish. As the Master Chef he is the life of the party, cracking jokes, telling stories and pouring drinks. To many, he is being himself, but those that know him well can tell something is wrong. The truth is, he is bored by his company. He is tired of carrying the party himself and furthermore, guests are starting to leave because Emeka won’t stop yapping about the BP oil spill and Peja is stumbling around talking to fence posts, unable to hold his liquor. They are killing his game. None of the dimes that used to frequent the cookout are stopping by anymore and everyone is still ogling over Lebron’s cannonball.
All three of them wait, wondering when the summer tanned senoritas will finally come knocking on their doorstep, ready to party.
But none of them show up.
They all saw Lebron's face on national TV, making a fool of himself on "The Lebacal" with "Le-Jim Gray" on "Le-ESPN." Plus, they have already been to Miami and partyied with Dwayne Wade. Hot chicks never party at the same place twice.
Meanwhile CP3 and Carmelo, frustrated by cock-blocking teammates debate whether to pack up and join the party elsewhere, or fix up their own situation and make their hometown an attractive destination.
As they struggle with their decision, they fail to notice that the hottest of all the hotties have crowded around the backyard basketball court, ooing and awing over one man. He is playing ball with his friends, and is wearing a USA basketball jersey, which covers his lanky frame. He is tall, he is smooth and he moves with a quiet confidence. As sweat pours down his opponents faces, he calmly controls the flow of the game, smooth as ice.
Three pointer, got it. Midrange, yahtzi. Spin move, count it. His game is a cross between George Gervin, Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen. He is unlike anything these women have ever seen and he is oblivious to the dozens of hotties lining the edges of the court, giggling and whispering his name.
He is rich, but you would never guess it. He is modest, which is why you never hear of him, and he knows next years MVP is his to loose, although you would never hear him admit it.
He is the NBA’s reigning scoring champ and he plays for arguably the NBA’s most exciting team. He is not a free agent, he has not demanded a trade and he is happy right where he is, in a small market, playing with the team that drafted him.
He does not have an ego, he says all the right things and makes all the right moves.
He is Kevin Durant. And as the Senioritas already know, he is ready to take over the NBA.
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