Letter to LeBron James

Dear Mister Bron-James,

I recently learned of your free-agent status. Congratulations! I assume that, like all normal beings, your overriding desire is to get far, far away from the hellhole some call Cleveland. I heard you were looking at other NBA franchises, like the Chicago Bulls, the New York Knicks, and that New Jersey team that used to feature the bald guy who fell down and grimaced a lot.

May I offer an alternative? I hope you are sitting down, Mister Bron-James. Otherwise the dazzling brilliance of my suggestion might knock you off your feet. If you are not sitting down, I will give you a couple seconds to do so by filling the remainder of this paragraph with nonsense words: yarba durble doop de scoop galoop hurnh mung clung carba barba mutombo.

Mister Bron-James, I invite you to join the expansion team I am setting up in my cul-de-sac. I want you to play for the Templeton Road Terriers.

Why should you turn down offers from legitimate NBA teams with actual coaches, rosters, and payrolls, in order to play for a team that currently consists of myself, my cat, and my next-door neighbor Jimmy Kierzlowski? Allow me to explain.

Stand out from the crowd! If you play in Chicago, you will always be in the shadow of Bulls legend Toni Kukoc. If you play in New York, you will always be second bananafiddle to the Yankees. With the Terriers, your only competition for media attention will be Jimmy Kierzlowski. And if he ever gets too swell-headed, just remind him of the time he wet his pants watching “The Phantom Menace.”

Show me the money! I am prepared to offer you the maximum possible contract, which is equivalent to half of my allowance, supplemented by small donations from my grandmother. Yes, it is less than you would receive from, say, the Clippers. But the cost of living in Raleigh is very low. There is a bus stop less than five minutes from my house, so you won’t even need to buy a car!

Bright lights, big city! Speaking of Raleigh…the City of Oaks is a rapidly growing metropolis with a vibrant nightlife consisting of more than a dozen people. They are very friendly people and are eager to meet you. Plus, we recently opened a new Bojangles. Can New Jersey make you a similar offer? I think not. For the coup de grace—we are less than two hours away from Winston-Salem.

The team makes the man! Or in your case, the man makes the team! You can pick any coach you want, providing you pick my dad. And given our vast amount of cap space—Jimmy Kierzlowski is signed to a five-year, $2.33 contract—we can accommodate any player you desire. Want to play with Dwyane Wade? We can make room! Magic Johnson? We can make room! Peyton Manning? We can make room!

In the arena! Currently, we are without an arena. My next-door neighbors just bought a really mean dog, so we can’t use their basketball hoop anymore. However, my mom promised to buy a hoop for our house. Think of it, Mister Bron-James. An entire hoop all to yourself. Plus, our rec room has a Wii, so you can play Wii Fit to stay in shape during the offseason.

Make your mark(et)! Rumor says that Nike will pay you $50 million in endorsements if you become a Knick. Mister Bron-James, Nike is on its way out. It will soon be toppled by my new athletic-gear empire, SchultzTek3000KMegaX. If you play for the Terriers, I will build my product line around you, beginning with my latest invention: the Nutcracker, the Vice-Clamp Iron Grip No-Slip Jockstrap™.

I’m running out of impossibly banal clichés! What more do you want? Fame, fortune, and happiness? Wine, women, and song? Lions, tigers, and bears? All yours, if you play for the Terriers! We will make a statue of you out of pure gold! We will carve your smiling face on the moon with a laser! We will give you a potion allowing you to live forever, fly, and make women’s clothes fall off using only your mind!

We eagerly await your response. Of course, this is only true if you accept our offer. If you do not, let me pre-emptively say “Screw you, Mister Bron-James.”

Love,
W. John Schultz
Team President, General Manager, Point Guard and Mascot-for-Life

PS. A bit of bad news: you will need to bring your own uniform. You could theoretically share a jersey with Jimmy Kierzlowski, but given that he weighs 250 pounds and has a serious sweat-gland disorder, I recommend against it.