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There shouldn’t be venom tonight. There shouldn’t be anger, or rage, or even any extra helping of boos. This shouldn’t be Cleveland on that night 15 days ago when LeBron James came home and the city went into lockdown, when you half expected Secret Service protection for the Miami Heat inside Quicken Loans Arena.
LeBron James didn’t abandon New York City, the way he did Cleveland, the way he did a fan base that so desperately wanted to believe he was its basketball messiah. In a lot of ways, you can’t even say he spurned us, or toyed with us, or taunted us, or teased us: By all accounts, the Knicks didn’t even finish second in the sweepstakes. Or third.
New York City didn’t even get a bronze medal in The Decision.
No, the only time LeBron ever really pondered the notion of New York was from the safe remove of a Cavaliers locker room on his infrequent forays into town. He was the classic tourist: wide-eyed at the sight of visiting Broadway, weak-kneed at the prospect of actually taking his talents to the big city.
And you know what?
That’s fine. That’s life in the big city. It isn’t for everyone. No hard feelings.
His loss.
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“Boos, lot of boos,” LeBron said Wednesday night, asked how he felt he would be received tonight during his first trip to New York wearing a Miami uniform.
“We know that as a team. We have that bunker mentality any time we go into someone else’s building, because we know it’s going to be very hostile.
“I considered all the six teams that I had my free agency meetings with. And at the end of the day, I felt like Miami was the best fit for me. Best team and best franchise and the best way I could help this team win was to be here.”
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He may be proved right. The Heat has righted its listing ship, won 10 games in a row. The weather is certainly nicer in Miami than New York this time of the year. The star power might be a bit higher.
But it certainly is fair to wonder if there are any moments when James looks at his decision — lowercase “d” — and ponders what might have happened if he’d swallowed hard and made the kind of choice Amar’e Stoudemire made a few hours before James enjoyed that light-hearted banter with Jim Gray back in July.
Wednesday night, for instance: In New York City, there were 19,763 people treated to the kind of brassy, boisterous basketball night that only the Knicks can provide, a setting only the Garden can offer.
Twelve-hundred miles away, inside a listless American Airlines Arena, the Heat went through the motions in defeating the Cavaliers, with wide swatches of empty seats scattered throughout the announced sellout.
Already, less than two months into putting together the greatest show on earth, the Heat is finding out just how short the attention span of a South Florida sports audience can be if you aren’t wearing shoulder pads and a helmet. Which isn’t exactly an indictment: If you lived in South Florida, would you spend your time indoors if you didn’t have to?
So, no: There is no reason to shout slander at LeBron, no reason to allow him to believe that basketball died around here when he turned his attention elsewhere. Juwan Howard, bless his heart, always a wonderful quote, told our own Mark Hale the other night, “New York fans always, they feel they’re obligated to everything, anything. What’s new?”
Well, that may be true, but so is this: If you’re not interested in us, we move on. Cliff Lee? Good luck in Philly, where if things go south, stray spittle will be the least of his wife’s worries. Mike Hampton? How did escaping to the safety and the school system of the Rockies work out for him?
LeBron James?
Let him enjoy the heat with the Heat. Let him enjoy the beaches. Let him try to win his NBA championship in a city that’s already won one without him. Treat him tonight as the tourist he always has been, and always will be. Then point to the Knicks, clear your throats, and summon the greatest Norman Dale quote of all:
“My team’s on the floor.”
michael.vaccaro@nypost.com