* 11:37 p.m.: I crawl into bed, wondering what LeBron is doing at this very moment. I can’t sleep. I race to the car, back out of the garage and drive the three-fourths of a mile to James’ home. I sit. And wait. At some point, he will have to leave. At some point, important NBA executives will arrive. At some point, James will sign a contract, and I will bring it to you first. And if not, I might at least be able to tell you when the chef brings home the bacon.
