The Err Apparent

Assuming you were privy to my tattered thread of Lebron diatribes, dating back to April of 2010, let me not belabor any previous points. Another season is in the books, so let’s mark the chapter and turn the page.

As an infrequent commentator, I will try to avoid plunging cannonball-style on the Lebron detractor pig pile. I give credit to his supporters, especially those with rational basketball arguments as opposed to contrarian proclivities. It certainly took more guts to defend him this season and root for him as simply the best player in the game who was unfairly and relentlessly maligned for his choices last July. Throughout the Eastern Conference playoffs, he gave you a bouquet of moments that vindicated your loyalty. And if you are still in his corner this morning, more credit to you. I imagine it will be a lonely place this summer. Those of us who have rooted against Lebron and the Miami Thrice are still celebrating. Ultimately, Dallas may not have been the better team but there seems to be this sense, almost a liberating relief, that the right team won the series. And the right superstar, Dirk Nowitzki not Lebron James, finally has his first ring. Generally, Jungian psychosis and sports are best kept like church and state but I keep coming back to this question: Does it take a certain quality of character to win an NBA championship?

Let’s take a moment and celebrate the Playoffs. Arguably, no other prime-time event presents such a jambalaya of high drama, superlative performance, compelling narrative, vigorous discussion, glaring spotlights and grand stages. The game on the hardwood, in proximity to the fans in the stands, is the most intimate and visceral of all team sports. With only five actors per side, performing in a contained environment, without helmets or hats, pads or bulky uniforms to shield them from the scrutiny of failure, everyone on the court is visible and vulnerable at all times. While basketball is a game best played with five-man synchronicity, the fourth quarter is the great equalizer for the individual. It is in these twelve-minutes of gametime where heroes rise and fall, and our lasting memory of a player and his performance is forever formed, fairly or unfairly. He has become synonymous to a closer in baseball, alone on that dirt bump, all eyes on him. When a great pitcher is on, hitters are powerless. Great pitching always beats great hitting. When a great scorer has the ball late in the fourth quarter, similarly isolated on that island, the defender is powerless. Great offense always beats great defense. Sometimes, the great scorer is double and triple-teamed and must quickly revert back to five-man synchronicity, where the open teammate, not necessarily the next best player, has the opportunity to knock down a clutch shot and become a brief hero or avoid becoming a goat. We have seen this scene play out countless times, in virtually every close game, particularly in the playoffs, where the outcome hangs in the balance, where the fate of the team, the crowd, the city is uncertain. We hold our collective breath as one man, controlling that orange orb, works his way towards the looming basket, suffocated by a defender, as precious seconds evaporate. Figuratively, this is where the luminaries make their money. It is not merely that they always want the ball in these moments, they need the ball; they demand the ball with fiery selfishness and an utter disregard for everything, literally everything, except for winning. And they do it over and over again. A truly clutch performer is someone who not only thrives in that moment, but can continuously elevate his level of play. As fans, we are captivated by the theater, enthralled by that extraordinarily rare human being who is blessed with both superhuman ability and unmatched mental tenacity, and some might argue, a certain quality of character. No doubt, it takes great teams and great seasons to put great players repeatedly in this position, but once we cultivate a cognitive recognition, we are conditioned to expect greatness, time after time, year after year. Only a handful of players in NBA history have been vaulted into this immortal class but our memories grow short, and most of us have a soft spot for nostalgia. Whether consciously or subconsciously, we all want to watch that next basketball deity, even if we root hard for his failure, and we all want to debate his anointment as the second coming…

Through his seven years in Cleveland, we saw flashes of immortality from Lebron James. Most notably, Game 6 against the Pistons in 2007 and Game 3 against the Magic in 2009. But he never had enough help. He was always a great player on a not-so-great team and that 5-man synchronicity was never quite enough to repeatedly put him in those mortality-defying situations. So he took his talents to South Beach… Let’s move beyond “The Decision.” Let’s ignore that ridiculous, pyrotechnic-infused victory celebration/welcome party. Let’s overlook Miami as Wade-County. Let’s forget Dwyane Wade has already won a Championship in 2006 as the alpha dog. Let’s pretend the city is not dispassionate about basketball and its fans are not front-running by nature. Lebron made a business decision. Overnight, he went from universally lauded hometown hero to despicable deserter but, as evidenced in jersey sales, his bright star did not lose any of its luster. And neither did the League. Revenue was up. Ratings were up. Attendance was up. Interest was through the roof. (Not a good time for a lockout Commissioner Stern!) More so than ever, the NBA is a vehicle driven by stars and brands. It thrives from dynasty not parity. (Since 1980, 5 franchises (Celtics, Lakers, Bulls, Spurs, Pistons) have won 27 out of the 32 championships.) It’s fueled by compelling narratives, and love it or hate it, Lebron in Miami is just that.

If you’ve followed the bouncing ball, these NBA playoffs were chock-full of storylines. We saw unlikely stars and small market cities thriving deep into the May. We reignited the classic “all-time great” debate, enjoyed a bittersweet a Shaq retirement press-conference (congrats to you Big AARP!) and witnessed a blogosphere a-buzz with peppery commentary (for and against) the increasingly polarizing superstar/media speedbag, Lebron James (including premature “blasphemy” from Scottie Pippen and a historical perspective from Kareem Abdul Jabbar.) Now that Dirk has reached the top of the mountain, it can be argued the formula for winning has been adjusted. Certainly, no great player ever wins a championship alone; and sometimes that great player is not the “closer” but more often than not, particularly in dynastic runs, that great player needs the combination of a decent supporting cast and at least one all-star caliber consigliere, who is comfortable deferring in crunch time. Dirk won without a reliable consigliare. Throughout this fantastic 2010-11 NBA season, the most compelling narrative was, who would be consigliere on the Miami Heat in crunch time, James or Wade? Or, could two alpha dogs co-exist, playing essentially the same position, share the 4th quarter, alternate deferments, and, in that special moment, elevate their game? After three rounds, the answer was unequivocally yes. But, the playoffs are a four-round affair.

What intrigued me the most about Mavs v. Heat was not the physical matchups. It was not ball-movement or defensive rotations, home court advantage in the 2-3-2, supporting casts, coaching, superstar showdowns, the ‘06 rematch or even the alpha dog/consigliere dynamic. It was the psychological matchups. I was most fascinated by what we can learn about the Miami Heat beyond what we already know about their ability to play at a high level in May and June. Clearly, this team is poised for a dynastic run. Physically, they have more than enough primary components. I will argue, they should have won the series based on the tangibles on the court. Lebron James is the best player in world. Put him on any team, literally any team in the NBA, and he is worth at least 57 regular season wins. He’s also the best defensive player in the world. At 6′8″ 270lbs, he can guard all five positions. When he is determined, he can get to the basket at will, and when he is in a shooting rhythm, whether beyond the perimeter or in the mid-range, he is flat-out unguardable. Dwyane Wade is perhaps the second best player in the world, and an elite backcourt defender. Bosh is limited, but efficient, and when adequately confident and motivated, he is an formidable third option. Still, what we learned about the Heat is that they can be cooled down. They throw punches in flurries. They are young, athletic and talented and when running downhill, they are virtually impossible to stop. But, they don’t like to get hit. When the Mavericks dug in, and refused to be steamrolled by momentum, the Heat had no answer. They collapsed in the 4th quarter. In three of their four losses, they had leads of at least 4 points with less than five minutes to play. They couldn’t close. Neither Wade (who has a ring and plays with zero pressure) nor James was the alpha dog or consigliere. It was a disorganized free-for-all and James looked like he would have rather been poolside at his impenetrable South Florida mansion.

This leads me back to the question: Does it take a certain quality of character to win an NBA championship? Let me say this on the record: I do not think Lebron is a “bad guy.” By most accounts, he has handled himself well. And despite a glaring lack of rings, he has, overall, lived up to the incredible hype and expectations. He is however, misguided. His has been mishandled, mismanaged and misled. He is overly coddled and improperly mentored. He has the look and vernacular of someone disconnected to reality. He never accepts blame. He never acknowledges mistakes. His absorption of losses are general and impersonal. He denies being affected by criticism. (His eyes would suggest otherwise.) His startling lack of introspection has done a disservice to his game. He is often petulant, indignant and immature. (Starting today, THIS MESSAGE should be hammered into his head. It should be his ringtone, his alarm-clock wake up music, his soundtrack while at the gym.) He is absolutely blessed with superhuman ability but, at times, exhibits the mental tenacity of a spoiled child. This, more than anything, is why the Heat failed. And this is why his detractors feel vindicated. It is far too soon to write any final proclamations about James and the Miami Heat. He is, after all, 26 years old. Presumably, he will learn enough about failure to overcome it… or their talent will eventually overwhelm and steamroll a less tenacious team and Lebron will get his rings. Still, we have a decent sample (8 seasons) to begin writing his legacy. He will undoubtedly go down as one of the all-time greats. But I have seen enough. He is not the second coming. He is not the Air apparent. He is not the Chosen One. Kobe Bryant has 5 rings and that “killer instinct.” Forget Michael Jordan. Kobe Bryant is still in another class. To paraphrase Lloyd Bentsen in the 1988 Vice Presidential debate, “I have seen Kobe Bryant, I have watched him win and you Sir are no Kobe Bryant.”

It is difficult to quantify character, but I believe it does take a certain quality to win an NBA championship, and as of now, Lebron James does not have it.

Stay tuned…

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