All the hullabaloo over LeBron James’ decision to join the Miami Heat has focused, in my mind, on the heartless and tone-deaf way the decision (or I should say “The Decision”) was presented. Whether James intended to or not, presenting his free agency decision as a 1 hour special on ESPN seemed designed to ensure that a) everyone in Cleveland would hate him as much as humanly possible, and b) the rest of the sports-watching country’s opinion of him would plummet. After all, the last thing anyone in Cleveland wanted was for LeBron to leave the Cavaliers, but it absolutely made it worse when that breakup is broadcast on ESPN for a complete hour. And for those of us with nothing to win or lose from the decision, LeBron putting on a 1 hour special about himself wherein he referred to himself in the 3rd person multiple times does not give us much reason to doubt his ego.

Regardless, the only thing it really crystalized for me was the ability, or inability, of athletes to see just how much they mean to the people they play for. LeBron James grew up in Ohio and was drafted by the Cavaliers, two ingredients that make for an incredible love between a city and an athlete. He left. Dwayne Wade is loved in Miami nearly as much as James was in Cleveland. He stayed. The fact is that sometimes they break your heart, and sometimes they don’t.

I was listening to Bill Simmons’ The B.S. Report Podcast with Miami commentator Dan LeBatard, and they brought up a decent point: athletes don’t think the way fans do. We assume that because we feel the love and loyalty to our fans and our favorite players that they will be reciprocated (not like that). But they don’t think like us, and we can’t understand their reasoning. We attribute values like “loyalty” and “home town love” to them when they do decide to stick with our favorite teams, but the real reasoning is probably something along the lines of “money”, “$$$$$”, “state income tax laws” and “$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$”.

Why am I rambling on about this? Because these situations are fast approaching for my beloved San Francisco Giants. I’d like to believe that Tim Lincecum (or farther down the line, Buster Posey) is more Dwayne Wade and the Twins’ Joe Mauer than he is LeBron James. I’d like to believe that his status in the city of San Francisco will be enough for him to take a drastic pay cut to stay with the Giants compared to a team like the Yankees. But how do I know? Maybe the cheers we shower on him every 5th day don’t mean anything next to the gajillion figure salary the Mets will give him in a few years.

I hope not, but you never know. I would bet that Lincecum doesn’t go on national television to break up with the Giants, but if he wins another couple Cy Youngs everything is off the table.

Go Giants!

Here’s an idea: There was one guy in the administration who cared passionately about baseball; who seemed to sincerely love the game and revere its greatest players; who had a righteous streak, a strong sense of personal honor, and a tendency to see everything in terms of right and wrong; and who clearly had the power to make Alberto Gonzalez jump. This person also cared enough about the problem of steroid abuse to have mentioned it—and been ridiculed as a result—just a year earlier, in his 2004 State of the Union address. I wonder if George W. Bush was the one who blocked McGwire’s immunity deal and, in doing so, consigned McGwire to the ignominy he is just now beginning to try and overcome?

Wow. Could Dubya have been the one who put McGwire in this situation? It’s a fascinating story – if true. But it also (again, if true) illustrates something I’ve always thought about George W. Bush: his actions, at least with the passage of time, come to seem incredibly short-sighted. As a baseball fan who was transfixed, enchanted, and inspired by McGwire and Sosa’s race, I absolutely understand the desire to punish McGwire for tarnishing not just the single season home-run record that all of us as baseball fans cherished, but also the feeling that we all felt while watching the Summer of 1998. But seriously, the guy wanted to come clean. How can you not see that Mark McGwire telling a Congressional Panel that, “yes, I did steroids. It was a mistake. I did it because I thought it would keep me healthy for an entire season” would ultimately benefit the game of baseball in one of its darkest moments? Especially after we know the result of McGwire’s ultimate testimony – it was a P.R. disaster for the man and the sport that both are only now coming out of.

Regardless, we don’t know if this story is true. Even if it is, this is not one of Bush’s biggest mistakes – this is about sports after all. But if you really cared about baseball, as we all know Bush did, I can’t understand making that decision.