This journalist and I am using that term lightly is writing a book on Lebron called:
THE WHORE OF AKRON
Call me crazy, but I don’t think the book will be very impartial. Before the Cavs vs. Heat game Rabb decided to get a special haircut.
Got my hair cut yesterday. I’m here in my old hometown, and I needed a special cut, something to deliver a message to LeBron James, my nemesis. I’m writing a book about James — the Whore of Akron — and the Cavaliers and the Heat played on Tuesday night, their final meeting of the year. Thanks to serendipity, I had a seat three rows behind the Heat bench, so I wanted my head to represent my feelings. Literally.
I’ve asked six men to speak with me for the book. All six have declined. I think there are various and valid reasons for that — my public vitriol toward James, my book’s title (The Whore of Akron), a reluctance to cede editorial control — but I think Jimi nailed it: I’m asking folks I don’t know, folks who don’t know me, to serve as my Negro tour guide. Twenty-plus years of working with some of America’s best editors and writers, yet I still don’t need two hands to count my African-American friends in the business. It takes no hands to count to zero.