I make it no secret that I hate the Miami Heat. And I hate Lebron James. And I hate the star-system that has taken over and ruled the NBA ever since Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen joined the Celtics in 2008.

But I can deal with it all in some fashion or another. However I can’t deal with my absolute hatred of Dwyane Wade and the miserable human being he is. This is a pretty close summarization of my thoughts on him, via Andrew Sharp on Grantland:

To review:

• He dresses like Lucille Bluth.
• When he’s struggled, he’s generally refused to take responsibility.
• He remains king of the cheap shots.
• He nicknamed himself “WOW” earlier this season, and even LeBron said it was corny.
• He’s been a liability for the majority of the Heat’s playoff run, and before Thursday, there was plenty of evidence the Heat are better without him.
• Even when he plays well, he still dominates the ball, complains to the refs constantly, and hijacks the Miami offense for possessions at a time.

This is an incomplete list of Dwyane Wade transgressions, but you get the idea.

And he’s not getting traded. No matter what anyone says about the Heat maybe possibly parting ways with D-Wade, no matter how badly he falls off, it’ll never happen. Because he played a crucial role in the shady process of recruiting LeBron, because he is a certified deity in South Florida, because nobody would ever trade for him at this point. In other words, we’re stuck with Wade front and center on the best team in the NBA for at least the next year or two. After Game 7 he told reporters to call him “three,” and then corrected a reporter who called him “Dwyane.” It’s horrible. He is horrible.

But he played well last night. And came up huge in a must-win Game 4. And in the two biggest games of the Pacers series. And in the closeout game against the Bulls.

I wrote about this a few weeks ago: You can hate Dwyane Wade, you can curse his name during every Heat game, and you can make jokes about how objectively horrible he’s become, but he always finds a way to show up and silence everyone. He did it again in Game 7 — 23 points, 10 rebounds, two blocks — because of course he did.

And when he was giving drunk interviews and doing confetti snow angels and giving himself nicknames last night, I was even a little happy for him. Just for a second. He deserves it, because he sold his soul to the devil and/or Pat Riley, got baptized in Moët and/or ate Rony Seikaly’s heart, and because he probably played through an ungodly amount of pain the past few months. He’s incredible whether we like it or not.

See you next year, D-Wade. Hate you. Love you. Will never escape you.