Dear LeBron:

Thank you for everything you’ve done for our city in the seven years you have been in the NBA. Thank you for giving us a reason to go downtown again, a reason to turn on the game, and a reason to brag to our out-of-town friends and relatives. You made the Cavs the crown jewel of Cleveland sports, a nearly impossible feat in a football town like ours. For the first time in my life, I saved up some money and bought an NBA replica jersey after you carried the team to the ’07 Finals.

In short, you have given us Clevelanders hope, which is hard to come by these days. And now, you have a rare opportunity to give us something else: vindication.

Let me explain.

You already know that Cleveland is the butt of countless sports jokes, and our history of heartbreak is too long to recount here. We are also, of course, routinely ridiculed for our historically flammable river, our dwindling economy, and the terrible slogan on our license plates (that last one may or may not be true, but “The Birthplace of Aviation” is a pretty awful slogan, considering how Kitty Hawk is not in Ohio).

But, for whatever reason, we persisted. We believed in our teams and we loved our city, and despite countless opportunities to move away or lose heart, we stayed. “Things can only get better,” we told ourselves. “Things will turn around. They have to.”

Seven years ago, the bounce of the NBA lottery balls gave us you, LeBron James. You had already been a local star for years before the draft, thanks to your exploits as a high school phenomenon, but when David Stern announced that the Cleveland Cavaliers would have the first pick of the draft, you became something more than a star; you became a hero to us.

You didn’t even have to step onto the court, and we already loved you. You were the brightest, most obvious proof that Ohio could still produce greatness, and we were going to get the chance to watch you prove it here in our own city. In our own home.

Now, you are faced with a very difficult choice. On the one hand, you can leave and pick up your career in another city. Economically, that option either makes a ton of sense or no sense at all, depending on who you ask. But realistically, it’s completely understandable that you might want to live somewhere else.

After all, you never really chose to be in Northeast Ohio in the first place: you were born in Akron and drafted by Cleveland. As much as we love having you, we have no idea if this is really the place you always imagined spending your life. Los Angeles, New York and Chicago are all much bigger, more vibrant cities than Cleveland. We can’t compete with any of them for star power or nightlife, and our economy is in decline while theirs stay strong. No one could blame you for leaving; people leave Ohio every day.

But, on the other hand, think of what you can accomplish if you stay.

From a basketball standpoint, you might win a championship here or you might not; nobody can know that for sure. But what I do know is this: if you stay, you will vindicate all of us who refused to give up on Cleveland and on Ohio in general. If you, our most famous and sought-after son, choose to stay, it sends a message to the rest of the country: Cleveland is better than you think.

As with all the worst-suffering states in this recession, Ohio is undergoing a huge brain and talent-drain; our best people are moving away in search of greener pastures, making it hard to innovate our way out of this mess. If you leave, you will become the most visible example of that talent-drain to date, but if you stay, you could be a symbol that the drain is coming to an end. That Ohio is worth fighting for.

I don’t pretend to understand how hard this decision is for you; very few of us will ever get to make a choice like yours because very few of us will ever be as good at our jobs as you are at yours.

But every community needs help at some level, big cities included. Cleveland is a special case. Cleveland needs help on so many levels. We have some of the country’s poorest big cities in Ohio, and we need good people to build them back up. We need skilled workers, educated professionals, and sports icons alike.

We need you, LeBron.

You will undoubtedly hear unsolicited advice from any number of people over the next two months, and I’m sure you will get tired of it. Just please, in the cacophony of voices that is coming, don’t forget about us. You will have the chance to be the greatest basketball player of all time no matter where you go play, but in Cleveland you have the chance to be something more. You could become the rallying point for an entire state’s Renaissance.

And, who knows, maybe in a couple of years we can get that license plate slogan changed to “Birthplace of LeBron.”  

Sincerely,

A Hopeful Cavs Fan