Brokeback Basketball Court

Maybe I have just have “Brokeback Mountain Fever,” but lately, I’ve been noticing that being a die-hard sports fan not only provides a great emotional outlet, but it also allows grown men to connect with their softer, more feminine side.

I have come to accept the fact that I have a CHMC on Cleveland Cavaliers star Lebron James. What’s even more revealing about this admission, is that I feel quite free to reveal exactly what CHMC means: Certified Heterosexual Man Crush. I am certainly not the only happily married man to be afflicted with CHMC. New York Yankees fans across the nation go ga-ga over Derek Jeter, and I imagine that even the brawniest of Chicago’s tough guys could be outed as having a CHMC for Michael Jordan.

In my case, what’s not to love about Lebron? For thirty years the Cavaliers languished somewhere between irrelevance and ineptitude. With the exception of a few token seasons, the Cavs have lingered near the bottom of the standings and even closer to the cellar in terms of national prominence. That was all of course, “BL”: Before Lebron. In comes this 18-year-old phenom, and the entire perception of the organization changes in a minute. They went from 17 wins the year before he arrived, to 35 wins his rookie season. They improved to 42 wins last year, and as of right now, they are on pace to have the second best record in the Eastern Conference. Not only is Lebron delivering victories, he’s delivering them in style. That’s a lot of delivering, which should NOT be confused with “Deliverance,” if you know what I mean.

I believe that a CHMC is brought about when a man recognizes his favorite traits in another man. Men like to say, “I bet that guy gets all the ladies.” That’s simply the homophobic way of admitting you think another guy is good-looking. So yes, I imagine Lebron gets all the ladies, which has always been a not so under-the-surface fantasy for most men. Would I like my body to be rippled with muscles? You bet. Check for Lebron. Would I like to posses otherworldly athletic ability? You bet. Check for Lebron. If I had said ability, would I like to exploit it while still being an unselfish player and making my teammates better? You bet. Check for Lebron. If I were rich and famous, would I like to keep my nose clean and my name out of the police blotter? You bet. Check for Lebron. Would I like to takeover my home arena? Inspire an entire city? Make opposing fans “ooh” and “ahh?” Check, check, check for Lebron. It doesn’t take a genius to decipher how my CHMC came about.

The great thing about sports is that having a CHMC isn’t a big deal. You can have one, and still avoid any harsh judgment. Try pulling that off at the office. Go up to a co-worker, and point to Bob in accounting and then say, “God, just look at the way Bob files those tax exemptions, he rocks my world.” Or next time the UPS man delivers a package, turn to your cubicle mate and say, “Did you see the muscles in his thighs when he bent over? That guy is RIPPED!” Go ahead, just try it.

While those antics might get you shunned at the workplace, I can happily exalt in my CHMC without reservation. I spend the majority of Cavs games cheering wildly, and exclaiming to my totally disinterested wife several times per game, “Did you see that? Did you see what he did? Isn’t he amazing?” Good thing she’s not the jealous type, although she has started referring to Lebron as my “boyfriend.” As in, “Is your boyfriend playing tonight?” Rather than get offended by the insinuation, I usually simply answer the question.

In the end, CHMC is probably a good thing. It allows me to acknowledge that yes, I sort of adore another man. In this case, a man seven years younger than me. When I was 21, I was pulling a C+ average at college, struggling up and down the basketball court in our intramural league. At 21, Lebron is making chubby 28-year-old white guys from Oklahoma adore him. Pretty big difference. I wonder if anyone at the YMCA has a CHMC on me?

In March, I will be making my first trip to see Lebron play a game in person. Perhaps I might even get lucky enough to catch a glimpse of my CHMC in the pre-game warm-ups, and dare I dream, maybe even get an autograph. My wife suggested that perhaps I should bring a box of chocolates for him. At first I laughed at her sarcasm, but then I got to thinking, Valentine’s Day is right around the corner.