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Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Cav's Loss: It's All Regina Brett's Fault

Posted By on Tue, Jun 19, 2007 at 4:52 PM

The stakes were the highest they’ve ever been for LeBron James last week. After carrying the Cavs to their first ever NBA Finals, the pressure was on to do the impossible again: taking down the almighty San Antonio Spurs. Add to that the birth of his son Bryce on the morning of game four, and you’ve got enough pressure to cook rice. The last thing the King needed was a lecture on masculine responsibility. But Plain Dealer columnist Regina Brett called LeBron out two days before the final game for not having married Savannah Brinson, the mother of his children. “Sending the message that you marry the mother of your children . . . could change [young fans’] lives,” Brett wrote. “Queen Savannah James. It has such a nice ring to it.” You could almost hear beer mugs across town crash to the floor in unison. Brett had broken Section 39.867 of the Sacred Code of Man: “Thou doth not nag a man about marriage before the most important game of his life.” After LeBron’s dismal performance last Thursday, when he went 10 for 30 from the floor, some fans are looking for vengeance. So Scene traveled to Public Square, always a bastion of intellectual discussion, to capture the mood. “That was fucked up, right there,” says 23-year-old Curtis. “He’s already stressed enough. Then he gotta hear that?” Jonathan, 18, agrees. “I blame her,” he says, bluntly. Surely Brett’s comments were well-intentioned, or were they? Some fans were left wondering whether she’d taken the Spurs in a bet with Sam Fulwood over the last jelly donut in the conference room. “Her comments really have no relevance to what the fuck was going on,” says 24-year-old Joseph. “Can we finish the series before you get into that shit, you know what I’m sayin’?” Stay tuned to Regina Brett for full coverage of next year’s Cavs season, including columns such as “Break a leg out there tonight, you guys” and “Hey Anderson, your whole family’s been killed in a plane crash . . . psyycchhee.” – Jared Klaus


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