Second Comings are overrated.

LeBron James isn’t Michael Jordan. He also isn’t bothered by it. Try as he might, James will never match the mystique of the Legend That Was—which would be worse news if he weren’t so comfortable playing the part of the Hero That Is.

Imitation means living in the shadow of your predecessors.

Maturation, on the other hand, means lighting the way for your peers.

I’m not exactly preaching the Gospel According to James. Real winners wear championship rings, and LeBron has a few trophies to go before he cements his status among the all-time greats. But let’s at least give credit where it’s due. In a league where every superstar is measured against someone else’s shoe contract, you’ve got to admire a guy who’s content to fill his own sneakers.

You can’t blaze a trail with another man’s torch.

You can’t be yourself in another man’s jersey.

If there’s a lesson in LeBron’s proposed number change, it’s simply that he’s finally starting to outgrow his hand-me-down persona.

The NBA is haunted by its glorious history. Jordan, Magic, Bird—they’re irreplaceable idols, icons beyond replication or refinement. The problem, of course, is that you can’t worship the past without sacrificing the present. Traditionalists will argue that James and MJ shouldn’t be mentioned in the same breath. I’d counter that it’s high time we all inhaled a healthy gulp of fresh air.

Nostalgia is good.

Novelty is better.

LeBron may never surpass Michael’s career achievements, but at least he’s talented enough to fall short on his own terms.

Pity the people whose savior is merely a memory. To make progress you’ve got to keep moving; to keep moving you’ve got to stay current. I pray to LeBron James instead of Michael Jordan because LeBron James is the messiah of the moment, and because I’m too old to wait for a redeemer who’s always about to return. Every generation of fans inherits the dead faith of its fathers. The one with the courage to seek living gods may yet bequeath a vital legacy to its sons.

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The Book of Revelation features more Horsemen than Bulls, but that didn't stop St. John from fantasizing about the comeback of history's most sacred cow:

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

Which is a sucker's tale if I ever heard one.

Because real salvation has to happen Right Now, and he who promises to deliver tomorrow is either asking Santa for a miracle in Charlotte or only just saying, is all...