By: Clayton Terry
Attention is given. Respect is earned.
It’s another one of those annoying sports clichés that also happened to define LeBron James’ career before the Miami Heat won the 2012 NBA championship. LeBron garnered more attention and more hype than any incoming athlete in sports history. As the early stages of his NBA career transpired, he performed mesmerizing athletic acts and carried an endearing aura. Then we began to hand him expectations.
Attention is given. Respect is earned.
It’s another one of those annoying sports clichés that also happened to define LeBron James’ career before the Miami Heat won the 2012 NBA championship. LeBron garnered more attention and more hype than any incoming athlete in sports history. As the early stages of his NBA career transpired, he performed mesmerizing athletic acts and carried an endearing aura. Then we began to hand him expectations.
Us – as fans and an extended version of the media – gave an under-25-year-old kid the same expectations we gave the post-27-year-old Michael Jordan. We called him the King (albeit self-proclaimed by James himself); we wanted him to develop a three-point shot; we wanted him to make the biggest shots in crunch time, we wanted him to lead an abysmal supporting cast to a championship; we wanted him to face Kobe Bryant in the Finals to settle any dispute we fabricated. We created a “natural-born” superstar from the time he was a fun-loving, 18-year-old high school student.
When game 5 of the 2010 Eastern Conference Semifinals happened, we changed our conceptions of LeBron James changed drastically. He was no longer the young prodigy lathered in destiny. He became the ring-less choker who couldn’t get it done when the game mattered most. We ordered him to match prodigious expectations and carry himself the right way, and when he didn’t, we condemned him. While LeBron was trying to build his brand, we slowly made him our product.
Which is why when LeBron decided to take his talents to South Beach, I enjoyed the banter, the prospects, scenarios and diagnoses. Never had a superstar conjured his own destiny is such an unconventional manner. He was condemned for it, but LeBron was finally in position to build a legacy of his own.
However, we all know about the antics attached to that “Decision.” LeBron wasn’t just viewed differently on the court anymore. He was viewed differently off it.
It didn’t have to be this way. If anything, LeBron James’ career arc runs parallel with the transformation of American journalism and internet journalism as a whole. We’re allowed to paint our own pictures and create our own storylines and decide which decisions are commendably right and which ones are overwhelmingly wrong in the most innocuous circumstances. We’re allowed to make someone out to be someone he’s not. We’re allowed to say things like, “Michael Jordan wouldn’t have done that” about someone who is not Michael Jordan. We’re allowed to say that LeBron James teaming up with Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh is “wrong” even though they had every right to do so and no rules or stipulations prevented it. We’re allowed to make someone a “villain”, change his career, and cause him to change his disposition and say all the wrong things.
LeBron James said and did all the right things this year, mostly because he didn’t say or do much at all but play brilliant basketball. He physically dominated a lockout-shortened season that most NBA players didn’t have the health and stamina to sustain. He won his third league MVP. Although the Miami Heat had a multitude of question marks overhead its surrounding pieces, nobody questioned LeBron. The stars were neatly aligned for him to win his first NBA championship, and he finally did it.
But just as LeBron said after it all: it wasn’t easy. When the Indiana Pacers led Miami 2-1 in the Eastern Conference Semifinals, the Pacers were the ostensible superior team from every collective basketball standpoint – until LeBron James dropped 40 points, 18 rebounds and 9 assists in nearly the most grandiose triple-double since Wilt Chamberlain played basketball. When Miami trailed the valiant Boston Celtics 3-2 in the Eastern Conference Finals, they displayed vulnerabilities similar to LeBron’s previous Cavs teams – until LeBron dropped 30 points in the first half of game 6 in the most dominant playoff performance since, well, since LeBron scored 29 of his team’s final 30 points in game 5 of the 2007 Eastern Conference Finals. It was utterly amazing.
Then, with Miami down 1-0 in the NBA Finals to the Oklahoma City Thunder, LeBron James scored 32 points, took the ball to the rack repeatedly, went to the line 12 times and made all 12 free throws, made a ridiculous (and now signature) bank shot while fading to his left toward the baseline, and made clutch free throws to seal the game. Yeah, referees played a part; but we’ll forget that because we always forget about the refs. Just don’t tell that to Kings fans or Mavericks fans.
But the most intriguing facet of this cooperative brilliance was the way LeBron James handled himself through it all. He said all the right things, iterating after game 2 of the Finals that the Heat had to play every game until the clock showed all zeroes (Which proved to be overwhelmingly true. Oklahoma City is the most relentless basketball team of the last decade). He diverted every question about “The Final Shot” with answers about team chemistry, stops and focus.
We got what we convolutedly asked for. We got a media-induced robot who removed all transparency from his easily visible representation. He was all business. He never wavered, never smiled, never overreacted. He never showed the jubilance his fans grew to love when he donned a Cavaliers jersey in his hometown. You never saw that puff of baby powder reach the air above his head. We watched him transform into something we never even could’ve fabricated. Or imagined.
When it was all over, LeBron could finally exhale and organically be that jubilant, fun-loving basketball player he’s always been. He continued to say all the right things about looking himself in the mirror after the infamous meltdown in the 2011 Finals and made it his responsibility to learn from experience.
And he did it on his terms, not ours – in a different city than Cleveland, on a different team, playing his kind of team basketball in the championship-clinching game with a triple-double and 13 assists and Mike Miller draining superhuman three-pointers left and right. He did it on his terms – creating a hierarchy and true championship identity with the King at its forefront and Dwayne Wade willingly in the backdrop. He did it on his terms – not being the villain, but being a passionate basketball player who plays with joy and unselfishness.
“It’s about damn time.”
That quote will never be forgotten. It will also never be forgotten when LeBron said he was most bothered when people called him “selfish.” Transparency within iconic, victorious moments holds much more merit.
There’s always a non-heat-of-the-battle moment I remember most about every NBA Finals. For me, this year’s will forever be LeBron James jumping and dancing with the crowd to Kanye West’s “Power,” and smiling like a little kid before hugging the Larry O’Brien trophy. He was finally that guy again, and he was no longer misunderstood for it.
There’s also an interview moment I always love the most, but this year there were a few. Dwayne Wade was actually the voice behind two of them, saying once: “Not 6, not 7… this one was hard” in Derek Jeter-type bailout fashion followed by LeBron saying, “Hardest thing I’ve ever done”. Wade also alluded to a moment early in the season when LeBron opened up to the team for the first time and everyone could finally comprehend everything he had been through. LeBron James flipped the script: He hid himself from the media, but opened up to his teammates.
But my favorite interview moment came in this Sunday Conversation with Rachel Nichols.
The interview is a collection of extremely self-aware responses, but three things resonate most: LeBron smiling thankfully, saying: “I’m glad I got great teammates,” (Translation: “These guys are miles better than the Delonte West/ Zydrunas Ilgauskas pupu platter I had in Cleveland.”); one moment that isn’t shown in this particular version when he says Kevin Durant will be his inspiration (Which is an amazingly aware thing to say. It’s difficult to continue motivation without rivals. Jimmie Johnson won five straight championships and nobody cared); and 2:34-2:46. Watch it. If that “killer instinct” we’ve been asking for lingers anywhere, that’s where it lies, but it’s not the kind we’ve been looking for. It’s the LeBron kind: A look at himself, not the opponent.
That moment was the peak and deserves to be the lasting imprint on the 2012 NBA Finals. After LeBron hit that shot and hobbled to the bench once again, I wanted nothing more than for LeBron to return for the final minutes and shred the Thunder defense with no regard for human life. My LeBron fandom had returned and I wanted him to disprove the dissenters by being something out of this world. It may not reverberate in NBA history, but that is the feeling I will remember most. I will remember going back to that feeling, and realizing how unfair of me it was to expect that from him. See, no matter what LeBron does, he will never meet any of our expectations, whether we’re rooting for or against him. His skill set as a basketball player could never change and we will still do these things. It’s sad and unfair. Expectations, like attention, are easily given. Meeting them is hard.
When game 5 of the 2010 Eastern Conference Semifinals happened, we changed our conceptions of LeBron James changed drastically. He was no longer the young prodigy lathered in destiny. He became the ring-less choker who couldn’t get it done when the game mattered most. We ordered him to match prodigious expectations and carry himself the right way, and when he didn’t, we condemned him. While LeBron was trying to build his brand, we slowly made him our product.
Which is why when LeBron decided to take his talents to South Beach, I enjoyed the banter, the prospects, scenarios and diagnoses. Never had a superstar conjured his own destiny is such an unconventional manner. He was condemned for it, but LeBron was finally in position to build a legacy of his own.
However, we all know about the antics attached to that “Decision.” LeBron wasn’t just viewed differently on the court anymore. He was viewed differently off it.
It didn’t have to be this way. If anything, LeBron James’ career arc runs parallel with the transformation of American journalism and internet journalism as a whole. We’re allowed to paint our own pictures and create our own storylines and decide which decisions are commendably right and which ones are overwhelmingly wrong in the most innocuous circumstances. We’re allowed to make someone out to be someone he’s not. We’re allowed to say things like, “Michael Jordan wouldn’t have done that” about someone who is not Michael Jordan. We’re allowed to say that LeBron James teaming up with Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh is “wrong” even though they had every right to do so and no rules or stipulations prevented it. We’re allowed to make someone a “villain”, change his career, and cause him to change his disposition and say all the wrong things.
LeBron James said and did all the right things this year, mostly because he didn’t say or do much at all but play brilliant basketball. He physically dominated a lockout-shortened season that most NBA players didn’t have the health and stamina to sustain. He won his third league MVP. Although the Miami Heat had a multitude of question marks overhead its surrounding pieces, nobody questioned LeBron. The stars were neatly aligned for him to win his first NBA championship, and he finally did it.
But just as LeBron said after it all: it wasn’t easy. When the Indiana Pacers led Miami 2-1 in the Eastern Conference Semifinals, the Pacers were the ostensible superior team from every collective basketball standpoint – until LeBron James dropped 40 points, 18 rebounds and 9 assists in nearly the most grandiose triple-double since Wilt Chamberlain played basketball. When Miami trailed the valiant Boston Celtics 3-2 in the Eastern Conference Finals, they displayed vulnerabilities similar to LeBron’s previous Cavs teams – until LeBron dropped 30 points in the first half of game 6 in the most dominant playoff performance since, well, since LeBron scored 29 of his team’s final 30 points in game 5 of the 2007 Eastern Conference Finals. It was utterly amazing.
Then, with Miami down 1-0 in the NBA Finals to the Oklahoma City Thunder, LeBron James scored 32 points, took the ball to the rack repeatedly, went to the line 12 times and made all 12 free throws, made a ridiculous (and now signature) bank shot while fading to his left toward the baseline, and made clutch free throws to seal the game. Yeah, referees played a part; but we’ll forget that because we always forget about the refs. Just don’t tell that to Kings fans or Mavericks fans.
But the most intriguing facet of this cooperative brilliance was the way LeBron James handled himself through it all. He said all the right things, iterating after game 2 of the Finals that the Heat had to play every game until the clock showed all zeroes (Which proved to be overwhelmingly true. Oklahoma City is the most relentless basketball team of the last decade). He diverted every question about “The Final Shot” with answers about team chemistry, stops and focus.
We got what we convolutedly asked for. We got a media-induced robot who removed all transparency from his easily visible representation. He was all business. He never wavered, never smiled, never overreacted. He never showed the jubilance his fans grew to love when he donned a Cavaliers jersey in his hometown. You never saw that puff of baby powder reach the air above his head. We watched him transform into something we never even could’ve fabricated. Or imagined.
When it was all over, LeBron could finally exhale and organically be that jubilant, fun-loving basketball player he’s always been. He continued to say all the right things about looking himself in the mirror after the infamous meltdown in the 2011 Finals and made it his responsibility to learn from experience.
And he did it on his terms, not ours – in a different city than Cleveland, on a different team, playing his kind of team basketball in the championship-clinching game with a triple-double and 13 assists and Mike Miller draining superhuman three-pointers left and right. He did it on his terms – creating a hierarchy and true championship identity with the King at its forefront and Dwayne Wade willingly in the backdrop. He did it on his terms – not being the villain, but being a passionate basketball player who plays with joy and unselfishness.
“It’s about damn time.”
That quote will never be forgotten. It will also never be forgotten when LeBron said he was most bothered when people called him “selfish.” Transparency within iconic, victorious moments holds much more merit.
There’s always a non-heat-of-the-battle moment I remember most about every NBA Finals. For me, this year’s will forever be LeBron James jumping and dancing with the crowd to Kanye West’s “Power,” and smiling like a little kid before hugging the Larry O’Brien trophy. He was finally that guy again, and he was no longer misunderstood for it.
There’s also an interview moment I always love the most, but this year there were a few. Dwayne Wade was actually the voice behind two of them, saying once: “Not 6, not 7… this one was hard” in Derek Jeter-type bailout fashion followed by LeBron saying, “Hardest thing I’ve ever done”. Wade also alluded to a moment early in the season when LeBron opened up to the team for the first time and everyone could finally comprehend everything he had been through. LeBron James flipped the script: He hid himself from the media, but opened up to his teammates.
But my favorite interview moment came in this Sunday Conversation with Rachel Nichols.
The interview is a collection of extremely self-aware responses, but three things resonate most: LeBron smiling thankfully, saying: “I’m glad I got great teammates,” (Translation: “These guys are miles better than the Delonte West/ Zydrunas Ilgauskas pupu platter I had in Cleveland.”); one moment that isn’t shown in this particular version when he says Kevin Durant will be his inspiration (Which is an amazingly aware thing to say. It’s difficult to continue motivation without rivals. Jimmie Johnson won five straight championships and nobody cared); and 2:34-2:46. Watch it. If that “killer instinct” we’ve been asking for lingers anywhere, that’s where it lies, but it’s not the kind we’ve been looking for. It’s the LeBron kind: A look at himself, not the opponent.
That moment was the peak and deserves to be the lasting imprint on the 2012 NBA Finals. After LeBron hit that shot and hobbled to the bench once again, I wanted nothing more than for LeBron to return for the final minutes and shred the Thunder defense with no regard for human life. My LeBron fandom had returned and I wanted him to disprove the dissenters by being something out of this world. It may not reverberate in NBA history, but that is the feeling I will remember most. I will remember going back to that feeling, and realizing how unfair of me it was to expect that from him. See, no matter what LeBron does, he will never meet any of our expectations, whether we’re rooting for or against him. His skill set as a basketball player could never change and we will still do these things. It’s sad and unfair. Expectations, like attention, are easily given. Meeting them is hard.
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