The perfect doesn’t have to be the enemy of the great.

LeBron James is no Michael Jordan. He’s also no slouch. As the Cleveland Cavaliers chase an NBA title, some observers insist on counting the ways in which the Heir falls short of His Airness—which of course ultimately does more damage to the critics than it does to the criticized.

Reminiscence means celebrating the past.

Rejectionism, on the other hand, means sacrificing the present.

I’m not trying to denigrate Jordan here. The highlights speak for themselves, and Lord knows how many hours I spent watching Come Fly with Me way back when. But even Mars Blackmon has seen the light on LeBron. In a league where today’s headline is forever on the cusp of becoming yesterday’s news, the only player worth rooting for is the one who’s set to take the court tonight.

The grass is always greener on your neighbor’s lawn.

The stars were always brighter in your father’s sky.

If LeBron really does have a fatal flaw, it’s merely that he wasn’t mature enough to be born two decades earlier.

Every NBA fan misses the late 20th century. MJ, Magic, Larry Legend—it was an age of idols so mighty they didn’t need proper names, a time when mortals seemed otherwise and anything felt possible. The catch, alas, is that even the best things must come to an end. The Michael Jordan Phenomenon was a fluke of grace and history. To expect anyone to fill his shoes would be to ignore the logic of the logo itself.

Decline is bad.

Stagnation is worse.

We all loved that heady Cold War victory lap, but we can’t put the genie back in the bottle by wishing it were still 1989.

There’s nothing more permanent than change. Hegemons rise and fall; superpowers wax and wane. The difference between LeBron James and Michael Jordan is beside the point, except insofar as LeBron James is here and Michael Jordan isn’t. The old gods are either dead or languishing in Charlotte. Heaven help us if we can’t learn to believe in a new generation of heroes.

Stephen Stills never had much of a solo career, but at least he knew well enough to settle for satisfactory:

Well, there's a rose in a fisted glove
And the eagle flies with the dove
And if you can't be with the one you love, honey
Love the one you're with

Which is sound advice for anyone trying to forget an expired icon.  

Because it's better to clutch at a moment than cling to a memory, and he who curses the rising King in the language of the fallen will be evermore doomed to only just saying, is all...