The river of black shuttle buses negotiates sharp switchbacks, bouncing upward along miles of uneven pavement that fades into dirt, from two lanes to one, climbing beneath oak forest that blocks out the morning light. Cellphone service dwindles to nothing. Finally, a metal gate appears, a large "M" at its center, and soon the Cleveland Cavaliers pour out of the buses. About 60 members of the franchise gather near tables covered in white cloth, sitting atop cedar bark spread across a small clearing. They clink flutes of 2006 Dom Pérignon in toast. Nearby, all around the property, lies charred earth. Burned hillsides, stippled with the black skeletons of trees, loom ominous.This is Mayacamas, one of Napa Valley's most iconic wineries. Not many of the Cavs have been here, but LeBron James has, and he recognizes that the area where he's standing now, the small clearing, once belonged to a building that is no more.
The fire, when it came, had raced in from the west, feeding on dry underbrush, roaring over the hills. Winds swept it along the edges of and into Mayacamas' vineyards, the intense heat threatening dormant vines harvested not long before. Workers evacuated as flames neared the winery, not knowing what -- if anything -- would survive. When staffers returned weeks later, they saw how the flames had crept to the edge of the three main buildings, licked up their sides, leaving deep black scars near the foundation. Millions in damage was caused, though the true toll will be tallied when it becomes clear which vines can still bud in the spring. But somehow the fire had devoured only one of the buildings, a 5,000-square-foot, two-story Italian villa-style structure used for hospitality and dining.
"It's a miracle," says Mayacamas assistant winemaker Braiden Albrecht.
Mayacamas hadn't hosted any groups since that October blaze. No groups, that is, until today, a clear, brisk late-December Thursday -- two days before James' 33rd birthday -- when the Cavaliers arrive for a midseason two-day Napa getaway.
At Mayacamas, organizers had rushed to prepare for the Cavaliers, hauling away burned rubble in huge bins. Now, after the champagne toast, players gather beside fermentation tanks before moving next door to a spacious living room, where glasses of 2015 chardonnay and 2013 cabernet dot a heavy wooden table. They playfully sneak more glasses of wine. James tries to tempt rookie forward Cedi Osman, who, along with some of the other rookies, isn't into wine just yet. "Drink me ... " James says, holding the glass near Osman, but Osman declines. "Their loss," James would say later. "More for me."
Mayacamas winemaker Andy Erickson introduces the chardonnay by describing how proud he is that it's not a typical Napa Valley chardonnay, not over-the-top with buttery-tasting notes. The players sip and are asked for their thoughts. Guard J.R. Smith, sitting on a couch against a back wall, raises his hand. What comes to mind as he sips the wine?
"It's like butter," Smith says, smiling. Laughter erupts from all over. Classic J.R.
― omar little, Tuesday, 13 February 2018 17:09 (six years ago) link