Kevin Durant better thank God for LeBron James.

On Thursday, Dec. 2, 2010, James returned to Cleveland for the first time as a member of the Miami Heat. The Heat would win 118-90, a demolition, behind James' 38 points, eight rebounds and five assists. The game was forgettable, another in a long series of wins for Miami that season and in the following seasons until his return to the Cavaliers in 2014. Nothing truly remarkable happened. No one ran on-court, like one man did in 2013 to beg him to return. There were no incidents. No one threw anything.

Sure, this happened:

But that's all it was. Boos and negativity. The Heat built a big lead, the fans quietly left and everyone moved on. James would be booed each and every time he came back to Cleveland, but the energy was a little less vicious, the vitriol a little less palpable.

In hindsight perhaps it was overblown, but there were real concerns about player safety leading up to that game. It should never, ever come to that -- this is sports -- but it did, and the the concerns were frightening. James was the most hated athlete in America for a solid 24 months after The Decision, with the perception of him changing only after he had paid his penance with a humiliating loss in the 2011 Finals and then captured redemption with his flawless 2012 season. The talk before that game was about extra security, about the possibilities of something truly scary happening, about whether a Cleveland fan base that had been so emotionally tortured by sports could really handle seeing the prodigal son in black and red.

In time, James' decision shaped much of how people discuss NBA free agency. There is an awareness that we shouldn't approach the kind of hatred that led to people burning jerseys or sending death threats just because a player switched uniforms and took a job somewhere else. When Kevin Durant left for the Golden State Warriors last summer, the tone wasn't the same. Sure, Golden State fans feel defensive of their new guy in the face of criticism about his decision, but most of the conversation isn't along moral lines.

People talk about Durant's decision to make a super-team duper the same way they talk about a concert being rained out. "Oh, that's a bummer." They don't talk about it as if Durant sacrificed a bunny rabbit while condemning the good name of America's greatest living actor, Tom Hanks. Most of the conversation revolves around the idea of a player's right to determine his own fate and why we shouldn't hold players to loyalty to the team that happened to draft them, even if they themselves had declared that loyalty previously.

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LeBron James and Kevin Durant have both had to deal with the consequences of their decisions. USATSI

So when Durant is introduced as a Warrior on Saturday night in Oklahoma City for the first time, there will be boos -- they will be loud, and they will be consistent. That crowd will stay with it; Midwest fans have nothing better to do with their time in mid-February than commit themselves to these projects. (I say that as a Midwest native. They do not have distractions to provide them with better things to do than make sure you know they hate you.)

But there won't be concerns over his safety. There won't be a nervous edge to the crowd. The emotions will be real -- this isn't just another sports villain -- but the feelings will also be mixed. The franchise issued nothing but recognition for Durant after the decision. No comic sans for OKC. James blazed an awkward, painful, ugly trail until he came into his own in 2012. That path has made it easier for Durant, even if he doesn't feel that way with the amount of negative attention his decision generated.

James walked through the fire so that Durant only has to deal with the embers. It might still sting, but the smoke has cleared for Durant.