NBA junkies in New York are ecstatic, just as those in Miami have gotten accustomed to their hoops heaven.
Meanwhile, delighted baseball fans in Boston want to start the season yesterday and those in Philadelphia already have planned their World Series parade.
They are different leagues following dissimilar paths to reach the same destination.
That would be a class system, leaving the vast majority of fans rooting for teams that have a fraction of a chance to win a championship.
Seeing the rich get richer in MLB is business as usual. The Yankees buy whomever they want, and they've been joined by the Red Sox and Phillies. Most franchises count dollars and shop carefully, but these people spend with little or no restriction.
The result is aristocratic owners flashing their rings like chemically whitened teeth and waving their wallets like swords, while everybody else strives to be relevant.
This disease is creeping into the NBA, carried not by the owners but the players. Rather than franchises cherry-picking coveted talent, talent is seeking out coveted franchises. Instead of the Boston Red Sox seducing Carl Crawford and Adrian Gonzalez, or the Philadelphia Phillies beckoning Cliff Lee, it's Carmelo Anthony engineering a deal that puts him with the New York Knicks.
The NBA is pleased, the Knicks are excited and 'Melo is thrilled. His move to Manhattan, like LeBron James and Chris Bosh signing offseason free-agent deals with Miami, immediately raises the ceiling of the franchise.
Not just any franchise, but a "destination" franchise. New York, as if it needed it, now has a bigger, brighter star on the NBA map -- just as Miami received last summer.
It doesn't much matter that losing 'Melo shrinks Denver's profile. Colorado was wounded less deeply than Cleveland but as casually as Toronto.
Baseball fans in Texas, Tampa Bay, San Diego and many other regions feel their pain.
Rangers fans didn't want to lose Lee, Rays fans would love to have kept Crawford, and Padres fans will miss Gonzalez. But that's baseball. It's an innately corrupt system. Fans know it. So they yawn and move on, buying tickets while hating it.
But the NBA, with its fancy salary caps and trade exceptions and free-agent restrictions, is supposed to be a bit more competitively democratic. The playing field -- or court -- is designed, theoretically at least, to be even for all its teams.
Rewards are intended for visionary franchises creative and savvy enough to manage themselves upward. Draft wisely, get lucky with an occasional pingpong ball and trade rarely but shrewdly. Identify the core, commit to it and build around it.
That's what San Antonio has done for years. That's what Utah did with regularity during the Jerry Sloan era. That's what Oklahoma City is doing and what Portland was doing before it was betrayed by the bodies of Brandon Roy and Greg Oden.
But the game is changing. It's not where it was in 2000, when Orlando thought it was building a dynasty by selling itself to free agent Tim Duncan and signing two free-agent superstars -- Grant Hill and Tracy McGrady -- that summer. Duncan stayed loyal to the Spurs and Hill's body broke down, leaving only McGrady.
The NBA is different even from 2007, when Boston revived itself by trading for Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen. General manager Danny Ainge, with ownership's approval, found a way to do what others could not.
When LeBron left Cleveland for Miami, it was an unprecedented exhibition of player muscle. When Bosh dropped Toronto to join LeBron in Miami, it put visions in the heads of stars throughout the league: Take control when you can, because you can.
That's admirable. Those who become professional stars ought to be able to dictate the direction of their careers. Baseball pioneers such as Curt Flood and Andy Messersmith fought for this right and succeeded.
But the NBA faces the prospect of gifted friends routinely joining gifted friends, a "new boys network" that creates a distinct upper class within the league.
Are you ready for dream teams in select cities? Do you like New York, Miami, Los Angeles, Boston and Chicago? Don't rule out Orlando, in tax-free Florida, and Dallas, because no owner in the league is more popular than Mark Cuban.
Contending could get tougher for San Antonio, will get tougher for Utah. Let's not imagine what happens to Oklahoma City if Kevin Durant gets restless and wants out.
Having superstars in New York is good for hoops, as is having the Knicks become a contender. Getting it this way, however, feels somewhat hollow.
Moreover, it leaves other franchises and their fans to confront a new challenge they can't embrace and could find impossible to conquer.