Miss the NBA? Read The Whore of Akron

There’s a danger when an institution like the NBA pulls a Houdini. Absence can make the heart grow colder instead of fonder.

Have you been missing your Philadelphia 76ers?

I keep hearing people say they don’t. Philly has always been a front-runner NBA town. Ask and you will hear: “Only time I watch is the playoffs.”

I may not be the cold stone pro hoops fan I was back when Moses would kick it out to Andrew—Andrew Toney, of course, aka the “Boston Strangler,” who would grab the pass on the fly, plant his feet, bite his lower lip and let sail with a twine-time splasher, the memory of which stills my heart to this day—but I suspect I miss pro hoops more than most.

I miss it so much that I recently spent time reading a book about a basketball-playing whore.

Thankfully, the whore doesn’t play here. The current 76ers’ team, while toting a lineup that will likely be forgotten over time, has a head coach that motivates by shining his love light extra bright on a squad of guys that most nights are fun to watch. One more season and we may even pledge our true love to Jrue Holiday.

We did collectively agree some time ago that it would be beneficial to all if Andre Igodala found himself another place to call home, like maybe in the Sun Belt where the days are longer and nobody bothers you at Rustler. But amongst us he still sits, so not all is so good.
But whatever the promise of the 2012 Sixers, it’s best to remember the NBA season runs longer than the sentence for killing a cop so the shortened season should work just fine for all of us.

As for that book, it’s called The Whore of Akron, and the whore in question is LeBron James. Scott Raab, a writer for Esquire and a Cleveland native, is the author.

James grew up in Akron and played for Cleveland (Raab’s hometown), before moving to Miami (thus the whore status). Raab is “a fifty-seven-year-old, 350-pound, Jewish Santa Claus with a Chief Wahoo tattoo.” He is also exceedingly talented and equally twisted, an effective combo when pulling off a book based on the simple premise that LeBron James has no right to live.

Whore is loaded with LeBron rips, but there is also the messed up story of Raab’s own life: his weight, the drug addiction and the crappy parents that screwed him up. But always front and center is his love of Cleveland, its people and its sports legacy. That we can care at all about Cleveland, let alone feel its pain, is a testament to Raab’s literary muscle.

The Whore of Akron has enough behind-the scenes NBA theater to please the zealots who head down to South Philly on cold and slushy February nights for soulless games just to hear the ball bounce. But there’s plenty of gonzo writing and around-the-back prose to entertain the rest of us. Reading a book so rich with passion and heart for a town that’s got it a whole lot tougher than we do is enough to keep a Philadelphian’s heart from turning cold.