Dear LeBron,

I’m not a big fan of the NBA. I don’t try to hide it. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m a fan at all. I suppose I tuned in for the NBA Playoffs (usually in the fourth quarter), but it took down to the wire games to grab my attention and often I was indifferent about who won.

There was one constant in my lack of NBA fandom though. I always rooted against you and the Heat—you predominantly. 

You were easy to hate. You were the best player in the league. You left your hometown team that drafted you to go to Miami. MIAMI? SERIOUSLY? People loved you in Cleveland. Fair-weather fans loved winning in South Beach. There’s a reason it’s been listed countless times as the worst city for sports in America. And “The Decision?” Wow, that was douchey.

Oh yeah, and you flop. But so does the majority of international soccer and I still love the World Cup, so I’ll forgive that part.

Everything made sense in the world. I could go on disliking the NBA and you could go on being that guy everybody loves to hate.

Then you had to go and write that essay to Sports Illustrated. I was all geared up for “The Decision 2.0.” I was going to hate every media-frenzied minute no matter where you chose. But that letter to S.I. was a different look at the King. It was humble, forgiving, heartfelt.

You recognized your mistakes as well as others’ and moved on. But more than that, you chose the ONE reason to move on for which no one could fault you: a chance to return home. You’re coming home to your roots in Northeast Ohio. Oh, you’ll get your max payout, but you could’ve gotten that anywhere. You’re coming home to a mediocre team in a middle-class, middle-market city in the middle of the country.

Because it’s your home. 

Damnit LeBron. Why’d you do it? Really, why? Why couldn’t you do it for the rings or the money? Why couldn’t you continue to hold up the proverbial middle finger to those without the roster, the money or the market to secure your talents? Why did you have to yank at the heartstrings of something so intrinsically human as the concept of home?

I come from a rural town of 3,500 in Vermont. The only network television stations in the state are broadcast out of Burlington, a college-town an hour and a half away from my small town. There’s no media market in Vermont, which equates to little hope there for my career as a sports journalist.

I went to public high school there. I come from a family of modest means. My town defines working class. I’ve spent the past two years in Southern California instead, searching for internships and jobs, trying to advance my career beyond what I know going home for the summer can do.

But I still want to return. We all do. No matter where we are from or how we grew up, we all want to go home. It’s in our nature.

Sports is an outlet for pride. Too often it’s personal, egotistical and narcissistic. But there’s the potential for more. We saw it in the thousands of fans chanting U-S-A for athletes they’d never heard of till this past month. We saw it in Fenway, when David Ortiz addressed the city of Boston. And we’re seeing it now, as the streets of a hard-working city on the shores of Lake Erie prepare for the biggest homecoming event of the year.

Sometimes we don’t get enough occasions to celebrate where we come from. Today, one athlete reminded us all.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is this: Thank you, LeBron. You restored faith in a city, and you reminded me why I love sports.

You can reach Matthew Tufts here or follow him on Twitter.