LeBron James Ensuring Cleveland Cavaliers Are Nothing Like Miami Heat
Four years with the Miami Heat has left LeBron James barely recognizable from the brash kid who scurried into 2010 free agency, blind to the repercussions of uncurbed bravado, blissfully—and perhaps stubbornly—unaware of how vain his decision to abandon the Cleveland Cavaliers came off.
That version of James—the one parading around in earnest, emerging from smoke, making a spectacle of himself and his team—is gone. He has since been replaced by a more mindful, deliberate veteran who is already ensuring his second go-round with the Cavaliers is nothing like the onset of his time with the Heat.
Different Delivery
This free-agency decision, along with the dominoes that have fallen in its aftermath, was bigger. James didn't desert a war-weary franchise incapable of chasing and caging championships. He spurned a decorated Heat team on the verge of dynastic immortality.
And yet somehow, someway, the outcome was—and remains—quieter.
There has been no nationally televised special enabling a title-starved ego. There has been no garish pep rally with the sole purpose of basking in and celebrating feats unaccomplished. There has been no trace of presumptuous predictions that, while essentially innocent, undermine the justification behind James' jersey change.
"I mean, just like D Wade just said, we're going to challenge each other in practice," James explained in 2010, while on stage, of his partnership with Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh. "And the way we're going to challenge each other to get better in practice, once the game starts, I mean, it's going to be easy."
Those words rang loudly, if not cheaply, for so long. Now such noise—the puffy rhetoric, the championship counting, the barbed behavior following defeat—has ebbed into a faint whisper, hardly audible to those not keen on analyzing the past or waxing nostalgic.
Nothing James has done during his Cleveland mulligan bears any resemblance to his Miami advent. And it all started with his delivery.
Instead of a circus that lasted for over an hour, James used the written word, announcing his decision in a self-reflective essay—that doubled as an authored catharsis—via Sports Illustrated's Lee Jenkins.
Right away there was a stark contrast between 2010 and 2014, and the differences kept mounting.
Forget a mass meeting at Quicken Loans Arena, the Cavaliers' home court. James instead hosted something of a homecoming show, during which he tried to draw attention away from himself. Focusing on himself was so four years ago. As was talk of championships being given rather than earned.
"I’m not promising a championship," James told Jenkins. "I know how hard that is to deliver. We’re not ready right now. No way. Of course, I want to win next year, but I’m realistic."
Practicality was impossible to come by during the early stages of James' time in Miami. Yet here he was four years later, preaching patience and process, further distancing himself from the impulsion of days past.
Then...nothing.
Celebrating the Power of Nothing
Visible wouldn't be the word to describe James on the heels of his decision. He wasn't hiding, but he wasn't gloating through his actions or soundbites either.
Pictures of James yucking it up in Cavaliers wine and gold with Kyrie Irving didn't surface. Burying the hatchet with owner Dan Gilbert became a footnote.
Any comments he made were thoughtful, not provocative. The closest he came to sniffing his demeanor from four years ago was recruiting Kevin Love behind the scenes, according to Yahoo! Sports' Adrian Wojnarowski.
But not even this subtle attempt at accelerating Cleveland's championship cause at the expense of Andrew Wiggins and Anthony Bennett—who were noticeably left off James' shoutout list in his return letter—can be seen as disingenuous. He wasn't reneging on his word or drawing attention to himself.
If he was, in fact, pulling backdoor strings, James is only guilty of wanting to win as quickly as possible. There's no shame in that, especially when said desire isn't turned into an animated tabloid pageant.
It's this manner in which the coverage of James has shifted that represents the biggest change of all. Like SB Nation's Mike Prada astutely observed at the time, his latest decision quickly became about maturation and profound responsibility, as opposed to the search for an escape from obligation:
"But of course, this is about more than hoops. This is ultimately a grown-up decision made by a human being that needed to move away to mature and eventually come back home. James arrived in South Beach with grand expectations, thinking that a union of stars could overwhelm the league by sheer force. He learned some hard lessons along the way, about how his actions affect others, how hard it really is to win a title and how important it is to have structure and discipline to be successful.
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Avoiding situations and temptations similar to those he indulged four years ago has no doubt helped prevent James from betraying his picture-perfect homecoming. At the same time, the way he's handled those infrequent occasions when he's had the opportunity to speak candidly and optimistically only reinforces the strength of his character.
Baiting him has proved impossible. James didn't offer a pinch of satisfaction or self-praise during Cleveland's media day, an affair routinely home to unchecked idealism. There was only pensive introspection, intentional reservation and, as most have come to expect, additional signs of personal growth through acknowledged accountability.
"I still have a lot to prove because of expectations I put on myself. I ask more of myself than anybody can ask of me," James said at Cavaliers media day, per USA Today's Jeff Zillgitt. "I am more patient now than I was four years ago. I understand what it takes to win a championship. I understand winning a championship is the hardest thing you can do."
The burden of proof isn't a cross James willingly carted upon arriving in Miami. Again, his words and actions implied that he was done, that absolution was only a flipped switch away.
How he's carried himself since his romanticized return home implies something totally different.
Permanent Change
Similarities between James' Heat and his Cavaliers do exist.
Pressure is everywhere in Cleveland, just as it was in Miami. It's in the ever-present championship-or-bust stakes. It's in Love's free agency. It's in Irving's development. It's in the Cavaliers' defensive projection (specifically their lack of rim protection). It's in rookie head coach David Blatt's ability to tie everything together. It's in the spotlight under which the entire team has been thrust.
But this pressure is combated by James' transformation, courtesy of his time in Miami. CBS Sports' Ken Berger wrote about what James learned with the Heat:
"He became a winner and competitor of the highest order, with four straight trips to the NBA Finals. He became a champion -- twice. He experienced defeat, ridicule, and the responsibilities of leading All-Star teammates -- Hall of Fame teammates -- which is a different challenge than leading kids and role players.
Most of all, he learned to harness his immense talents and his place atop the basketball pecking order -- on the floor, and in the public eye. Basically, he learned how to be LeBron James.
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Almost everything about the Cavaliers is different because James is different. He's been different for a while.
Until recently, though, there was no telling whether this change, this character evolution, would carry over to Cleveland. Perhaps James would get caught up in the moment and wrapped up in the hype. Maybe the significance of his decision mated with a return to his roots would cause inadvertent swelling of the ego and create a warped sense of reality.
It didn't.
The only thing surreal about seeing James back in a Cavaliers uniform is the nonchalance and business-as-usual atmosphere that has punctuated his return and everything it brings.
Games have yet to be played, championships have yet to be won or lost and already James' Cavaliers—and their obvious divergence from the Heat team he played with—are imparting a lesson all their own: Four years is a long time.
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