LeBron Taps into His Inner MJ, and the Cavs Find the NBA Finals Far from Over
OAKLAND, Calif. — The distance between the locker room and the postgame podium at Oracle Arena is about 40 yards, a space LeBron James could probably cover in five seconds, if properly motivated. But James was in no shape to sprint or even to jog or amble or saunter late Sunday after the Cleveland Cavaliers' 95-93 overtime win in Game 2 of the NBA Finals over the Golden State Warriors.
He just sort of wobbled from side to side down the corridor, stepping gingerly—left, right, left, right—until he finally reached the stage and plopped his weary soul behind the microphone.
For 50 minutes and 20 seconds, through four quarters and an overtime, James had pushed and prodded, flexed and bellowed, channeling his fury into a box score for the ages and a victory for the record books.
The Cavaliers should be gone by now—figuratively, at least. They should not be functional in their current state. They should not be tied at 1-1 in the finals, three victories from a championship.
And yet here they are, still in vigorous pursuit of the title, in defiance of all logic and expectation and common sense. James, the ultimate distorter of NBA reality, is twisting the universe to suit his own needs.
It's an exhausting task.
"Did you see how I walked in here?" James said from the podium, after posting 39 points, 16 rebounds and 11 assists in a stunning victory. "I'm feeling it. I'm feeling it right now for sure."
The series is tied and the Warriors are woozy, because James insisted on it. And because James has morphed into something he never wanted to be: a relentless, unapologetic, shot-hunting, ball-dominating offensive machine.
Everyone who demanded for all these years that LeBron be more like Mike? To attack without conscience, to commandeer the offense, to take every big shot? You just got your wish.
James took 35 shots and made just 11 in Game 2, a monstrously inefficient line that would have made Miami LeBron wince. This came on the heels of an 18-of-38 night in Game 1.
Never before in James' 12-year career, regular season or playoffs, had he strung together back-to-back games of 35-plus attempts. Ever the playmaker, ever the consummate teammate, the James of years past never would have permitted such self-indulgence.
This is not that James, though. The present circumstances demand more.
Kyrie Irving was in a hospital bed Sunday, recovering from surgery to repair a broken kneecap. Kevin Love was in street clothes, still resting his surgically repaired shoulder.
Millions of Ohioans are still expecting the title they believe was promised when James came home last summer. No one but James can deliver it. And so he has taken 73 shots in two games, contorting himself into some unholy combination of Oscar Robertson and Carmelo Anthony.
He is shooting a ton, scoring like crazy (83 points in two games) and making plays when he can (17 assists in the series). This is not the path James prefers to take to the title. It is, quite simply, the only path available to him.
"I'm not a high-volume shooter," he said. "I've never been in my career. But things have changed on our team, where the shots that Kevin and Kyrie would have has now been placed on myself and the rest of the guys as well. It's what needs to be done to help our team win."
On Sunday, James became the second player ever to post at least 35 points, 15 rebounds and 10 assists in the finals since 1985, joining James Worthy. Charles Barkley is the only other player to even go 30-10-10 in the finals in that span.
Where else could the Cavaliers turn? To Matthew Dellavedova, their Rudy-like backup point guard? To uber-flake J.R. Smith, who kept committing foolish fouls at all the worst times Sunday night? To Iman Shumpert, who went 2-of-11 from the field? To Tristan Thompson, who has four points in the series?
No, it had to be James.
"Am I going to be in the 30s every game, or things of that nature?" James said. "I'm not sure. I would not like to. But if that's what the case has to be to help us win, then I don't have a choice."
There was no misreading his intentions after the opening tip. James attacked on the first three Cleveland possessions, resulting in a turnover, an errant nine-footer and an air ball, but he kept attacking and quickly straightened out his game.
The Cavaliers somehow managed to throttle Stephen Curry, contain the Warriors' potent offense and win while shooting 32.2 percent, prompting James to dub his team "the grit squad."
"If you're looking for us to play sexy, cute basketball, then that's not us," he said.
Some of James' advisors are cheering his sudden transformation, viewing these two games as the greatest of his career. Statistically, James has had better nights, particularly in any metrics measuring efficiency. But in importance, these rank as highly as any.
The moment Irving limped away last Thursday, the tenor and perception of the series changed. The Warriors went from being heavy favorites to mortal locks to win the title. There was talk of a sweep. Sympathy notes for Cleveland fans, whose championship drought would surely extend another year, were already being written.
James insisted, in as many ways as he could, that neither he nor his teammates derived any motivation from the chatter. But it was impossible to ignore, just as it's impossible for the Cavs not to notice the adoration being heaped upon the Warriors and their newly crowned Most Valuable Player, Stephen Curry.
No matter what James admits, he is keenly aware of public opinion and sensitive to any notion that another player or team might have usurped his authority as the NBA's most powerful player.
"I have some other motivation that I won't talk about right now," James said, cryptically, "but I have so many different things to worry about than being an underdog or guys counting us out."
Fulfilling Northeast Ohio's hopes is somewhere on that list. Last summer, James boosted the region's self-esteem just by choosing to come home, after a four-year affair with South Beach. On Sunday, James delivered the first finals victory in Cavaliers history—a feat he could not accomplish the last time he took Cleveland this far, in 2007.
"It means everything," James said.
But there is so much more to be done and so little assistance to be found. Conventional wisdom dictates this series is still Golden State's to win or lose, but James has already shown profound disdain for anyone else's wisdom.
He has played 96 minutes in two games, more than any other player in the series, and has taken more shots than Smith, Shumpert, Dellavedova and Timofey Mozgov combined. He has shed his identity and embraced the gunner's mentality. He has played to exhaustion.
A flight home awaited, with the next two games to be played in downtown Cleveland. James would spend the trip getting constant treatment, to ready himself for another furious assault Tuesday night. James praised his longtime trainer, Mike Mancias. He said a rehab plan for Monday was set.
"I'll be ready," James said.
Soon he rose again, tugged on a pair of sunglasses and a red baseball cap (turned backward) and wobbled, gingerly, back down the hallway.
Howard Beck covers the NBA for Bleacher Report and is a co-host of NBA Sunday Tip, 9-11 a.m. ET on SiriusXM Bleacher Report Radio. Follow him on Twitter, @HowardBeck.
.jpg?w=600 "Colts Release Kenny Moore")
