There are many things about LeBron James that I can neither relate to nor comprehend. He earns more money in one game than I do in two years. He deals with intense fame, and for the most part, he handles it without shaming himself. On a basketball court, he runs through people, flies over them, throws unimaginable passes to teammates, and he does it all with an ease that can make you take him for granted.

Oh, and he has a runaway ego, too.

This, sadly, is a prerequisite for greatness these days.

So, no, I don't understand James. When he's not playing basketball, I'm not even sure I like him. But there is one facet of the complex Chose One that baits my empathy: His complicated decision to leave home.

For the first time in his life, James will leave northeast Ohio in the fall. In a ridiculous nationally-televised event Thursday night, he ended two years of free-agent speculation by choosing to flee Cleveland and play for the Miami Heat. So James, who lives in nearby Akron, Ohio, will exit familiarity and comfort. Because he did so, he must accept win-or-be-ridiculed pressure now because he abandoned the warm and fuzzy hometown hero tale in favor of cold-hearted business.

My first reaction is to feel sad for Cleveland, a battered sports town that hasn't won a professional championship since 1964. John Elway tortured the city. Michael Jordan did, too. Art Modell ran away with the previous Browns franchise in the dark of the night and took it to Baltimore. If Seattle fans think they've suffered, they shouldn't complain to Cleveland. That town is the granddaddy of misery.

But my second reaction is the point of this piece. As much as I dislike the heartless manner in which LeBron departed, I'd be foolish to rip the act of leaving itself. Why? Because I've ditched home for opportunity before. Surely, many of you have done the same.

It's the reason I'm in Seattle. About this time four years ago, I visited here to flirt with The Seattle Times. A month later, I left Louisville for more money, for more freedom, for the chance to write more columns about professional sports. I left Kentucky, my home state, and in some ways, my identity. I left my grandparents, who lived 15 minutes away from my apartment.

It wasn't a tough choice, either. I mulled it like crazy because I love home, and I had only been back home for just shy of two years. I graduated college and worked in Philadelphia and Orlando before returning to my home state and celebrating it as a life-changing realization that you don't need to stray to prosper. And then I did the exact thing I thought I wouldn't. I left, again. That's youth for you, huh?

I struggled with going back on my intention, but professionally, it wasn't a tough choice. And it wasn't a tough choice for James.

A no-brainer opportunity presented itself, and I ran to meet it. I have never regretted it. My life is undoubtedly better because of it: Found a beautiful woman who loves me endlessly. Challenged daily by an intelligent readership. Learned to embrace a wonderful part of the country that is completely different from what I know.

It's everything that I've ever wanted -- except it's not home. I miss Kentucky, wish I could've thrived professionally there, wish I could've written better columns for those wonderful, classy readers. But four years ago, I was 28 and too ambitious to stay. I hate to say it, but it's true. Fortunately, I didn't have an entire city's sports joy tied to me. Louisville -- a fine city, let me tell you -- hasn't suffered a bit the past four years.

Now, listen to me carefully: I'm not comparing myself to LeBron. He's one of the five greatest superstars in sports. He was beloved in Ohio, whereas most sports columnists never reach that status because we talk too much smack. James is a prodigy we've followed since he was about 13, and his decision affected an entire league.

What truly makes James different from others who leave home is the incredible option the Cavaliers presented: He could've made, at least, $30 million more by staying in town, and his team already had the NBA's best regular-season record (but no championship) for two straight years. This wasn't a situation in which he had to leave because staying Cleveland couldn't offer him anywhere near the life he wanted.

But when you take away all the ESPN cameras, remove the hype and break "The Decision" down to its essence, it still was all about a young man choosing opportunity over home.

And I won't fault him for that.

Cleveland Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert can send all the classless and inflammatory statements he wants. Cleveland fans can burn all the No. 23 jerseys they own. Basketball fans can consider James a lesser superstar for teaming up with Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh to pursue easier championships rather than staying in Cleveland and trying to win the hard way.

It doesn't matter. I won't fault James for making a good career decision. Neither should you.

The only problem is the embarrassing manner in which James handled his departure. His hourlong special was a tacky way to leave. Cleveland fans should be upset with him for that.

"I can't get involved in that," James said on ESPN when asked about fan outrage. "I wanted to do what was best for LeBron James."

At the end of those misguided and narcissistic remarks, James tried to save himself by saying, "At the end of the day, I feel awful. I feel even worse that I wasn't able to bring an NBA championship to that city."

The damage was already done, of course. He can't take back arrogantly speaking in the third person while answering a question that deserved humility and sincerity. But even if he had looked into the camera and wept, Cleveland wouldn't have understood why he's leaving.

Just like I never regret fleeing for Seattle, James won't have second thoughts about bouncing to South Beach. He'll win multiple championships with Wade and Bosh. He'll get more endorsements. He may even meet his goal of becoming a billionaire. This is what he wanted when he put this plan in motion.

The only thing James won't have is home. For most of us, that's an unfortunate part of growing up. Sometimes, we must leave to fulfill our dreams. And even though James came across as callous Thursday night, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it was hard for him.

It wasn't a tough professional choice. But leaving had to be a difficult personal one.

James gave the Cavs seven remarkable seasons. He gave Ohio 25 years, and he was a nationally recognized wunderkind for most of that time. He's not disloyal. He's opportunistic. He wants more.

It's one thing, maybe the only thing, about James that I can understand.

Fed up with my long-winded ways? Follow me on Twitter: @Jerry_Brewer. Sometimes, I don't even use all 140 characters there.