Made sense, right? After all, The King and I were born just six months apart, and graduated high school the same year. We attended our senior proms just two weeks apart (although, as hard as this might be to believe, mine wasn't a national news story).
And right as LeBron was getting his first taste of the NBA lifestyle after being drafted in 2003, I was getting my first taste of independence as a college freshman.
I always pictured the day, in 2019 or 2020 or 2021, when a graying, balding LeBron would step in front of the cameras and say that he couldn't do it anymore, that he was retiring from basketball. Somewhere, a graying, balding me would be watching, holding back a tear, and realizing, "Man, I'm getting old."