So LBJ the Lesser thinks the NBA began in the 80's.
As a 52 year old curmudgeon blessed by birth in Milwaukee, only would LBJ jr meet Wes Unseld in the paint in 1968.
LeBron, meet your liver.
While my Dad obsesses over "jungle ball," and travelling in the NBA--try to tell him it gets called several times a year and even seem to remember His Highness Jordan getting whistled for it. The best play I ever saw Michael make came driving the lane against my Milwaukee Bucks, and Greg "Cadillac" Anderson bodied him cleanly and Airness' head hit the floor: bam, Bam, BAM--some sons of Pop's generation pine for time when players themselves would maintain and at times enforce a respect for the game.
Now, players have to bow before the court of public opinion, internet chatter, ESPN almighty, talkboards, and bloggers, plus worship at the stern altar of Stern with capricious judgments of "flagrant 1" and "flagrant 2," as if giving crooked ass NBA refs a GOOD idea for sanctity of the sport.
So Mr. James, invest some of your collectively bargained $ in tapes of 80's ball with the Bad Boys or Mr. Maurice Lucas and thank Goddess you play in the day when opponents can't knock you on your ass just because they don't like you.