To LeBron

This city belongs to you the way canyons belong to rivers, the way Rodin belongs to The Thinker, the way Shakespeare belongs to Hamlet on stage asking the only question we ever ask, “To be or not to be.”

Market Street, Portage Path, Thronton Street, High Street, Copley Road. East Ave.These are your streets. Boondocks. Overlook. Rousch’s Market. Elizabeth Park projects. Riedinger Middle School where you made a slam dunk in 8th grade. That school belongs to you.

LeBron James

You didn’t want to go to a private school, mostly white kids escaping their neighborhood public school. Dru talks you into it. There’s a coach. He’s good. Real good. Alright, you say, you better be right.

First year in and you own St. V’s. The court, the halls, the trophy case, the coach, the team. All yours.

Hanging in the classroom, a map of the U.S. You pick out Ohio. You trace the cities with your finger: Cincinnati. Dayton. Toledo. Columbus. Cleveland. No Akron.

Akron isn’t Cleveland. You hated Cleveland. Everyone knows Cleveland and Cleveland isn’t home. You aren’t from Cleveland. You don’t know Cleveland. You’re just a kid.

From Akron. You own it. And you will put it on the map. You will make sure if the world knows you, they will know Akron. The city that shaped you, that loved you, that carried you.The Akron that saw you. King James. The Chosen One. Amen.