LeBron James vs. Cleveland Cavaliers: James Is the Perfect Villain for the Cavs
***The Intro***
I can’t eat popcorn during horror movies—I’m not yet desensitized to violence, my stomach gets queasy, and I don’t want to pleasure myself while others are suffering.
I remember very specifically that I had to put down my popcorn while watching The Decision, during which the Cleveland Cavaliers had lost the best player in the league, the respectability of the franchise, and all hope for the foreseeable future. Jerseys burned and Mo Williams spiraled into a depression.
You’ve heard of “Christmas in April?” Well, this was “Apocalypse come July.”
The Boys & Girls Club of Greenwich, Connecticut may have been saved from an almost certainly impending budgetary shortfall, but aside from that things were looking pretty bleak.
***The Decision***
The Decision itself, and really the whole Summer of LeBron, was the oddest pseudo-athletic spectacle I’ve yet experienced in my lifetime. Totally surreal. Had the guys who brought you Scary Movie come up with a parody film about the excesses of NBA free agency, it probably would’ve ended in a 9:00 press conference. And there was LeBron—the preeminent star of the league, from day one praised for his precocious maturity—as the only one who didn’t see this coming. The only one who didn't see train wreck while he was sitting on the tracks.
Moreover, what made me, and by assumed association everyone in Cleveland, sick to our stomachs was the prospect of losing what LeBron had come to represent to us.
I realize it’s been both nationally publicized and tattooed across backs, but for the sake of reiteration: The story of LeBron felt like some sort of athletic parable; a gift from basketball gods so as to reward the city of Cleveland for its patience. LeBron James, an affable hometown kid who just so happened to be the best athlete of his generation.
And for six years, the story felt written.
Each low led to something greater; every mistake was just a plot point to bounce into the next act.
We watched an 18-year-old kid from Akron grow into the best player in the NBA.
That’s why this hurt.
What an incredible sense of ownership each Cavs fan must feel over LeBron’s growth. We were there through every bit of it. We were there before things got this good.
It was right around the end of the Bulls series that things started to turn.
LeBron shot the free throw left-handed, and a guy who’d always had an explanation for everything didn’t seem to have much to say. “If I would have had to make it, I would have tried with my right hand,” said James. “Cleveland fans have nothing to worry about.”
He never played at the same level again for the rest of the playoffs.
At the same time, then-Cavs beat writer Brian Windhorst began to describe LeBron’s demeanor as, and I’m paraphrasing, “increasingly tone-deaf, increasingly isolated from the Cavaliers in general.” No one wanted to believe it at the time, but something was going on and it was obviously a precursor of things to come. (Side note: I remain convinced that the termination of Windhorst’s employment with the Heat will result in a tell-all book set to rival The Jordan Rules in terms of relevancy and shock value.)
Anyone who watched the end of the season sans wine-colored glasses knew it was over, but I can’t think of one person who anticipated how things would go down.
LeBron would’ve been more tactful to leave town at the front of a parade on the back of an elephant.
Rick Telander, Chicago Sun-Times:
“Players change teams all the time, I know that. But no player has ever done it with the pomp, phoniness, pseudo-humility, and rehearsed innocence of LeBron James and his ESPN bed-mates.”
Drew Magary, from Deadspin, puts it more eloquently:
“There's a normal way of doing things, and there's the [explicit] way of doing things, and making your own free agency a two-year drama capped off with an infomercial directed by Senor Spielbergo falls squarely in the purview of FLAMING [EXPLICIT] [EXPLICIT] MOVES. James is trying to [explicit] the world into believing this whole process is some great entertainment he's lavishing upon you. It's not. It's a con. Right now, a lot of people aren't buying the [explicit] this man is selling. And really, that's all LeBron James is these days: a [explicit] salesman.”
***The City***
You might say I should’ve been expecting this.
After all, my dad calls his cousin (both are life-long Cleveland fans) twice a week to commiserate/engage in joint therapy sessions re: whatever bizarre transgression has been struck upon the city most recently, and they’ve been doing that for the past 40 years.
The city of Cleveland last celebrated a major sports title in 1964, and according to the NY Times, “[the city’s teams] have played 123 combined seasons since the Browns’ 1964 title, making Cleveland the hardest-luck sports town in the United States. Philadelphia, with 96 straight titleless seasons, ranks a distant second.”
That data was compiled in 2007. So according to my amateur mathematics, the Cleveland teams are up to 136, including the Cavs’ season this year.
The Phillies won the title in 2008. (Congratulations.)
More than the historic streak, it's the way it’s happened.
The Shot, the Drive, the Fumble, the Mesa…now The Decision?
The same man who for seven years had marketed himself as a hometown hero was asked by Michael Wilbon if the dismay of the fan base, the decay of the city, was a concern to him. And while I admit an athlete’s responsibility for the decay of a city is zero to none, here is LeBron’s response:
“I can’t get involved in that. This is a business.”
And in so many words, there it was.
***The Gift***
I didn’t see it at the time, but these quips, these actions, LeBron’s rehearsed rhetoric, would come to be the summer’s silver lining and the foundation for all things to come.
The shattering of our illusion of LeBron James.
“I know how loyal I am,” James said during The Decision.
But within 24 hours, the same man who’d promised loyalty to the people of Cleveland—who’d tattooed the word on his rib cage—was smiling and laughing with Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh, promising the same things to Heat fans he’d promised us just years before.
“I know how loyal I am.” In LeBron’s defense, he never did specify.
With each passing day, the prodigiously talented local son—once dynamic and devoted, selfless and sincere—grew (grows) more defiant. No apologies, no remorse, only constant, ever bolder justification. With each passing day, LeBron seemed (seems) to retroactively pull back the curtain on the last seven years, not only giving us the opportunity to reanalyze every moment, but the impetus.
And that’s when you realize, upon that re-analyzation, that LeBron James was every bit the player we thought he him to be, but never the person. He was never ours, and had we known then what we know now, I’m not sure we’d want him to be.
In a sense, it’s the greatest gift he’s given us.
That, for me personally, he walked out and has not once since reminded me of the guy I grew up rooting for.
If I thought it was at all intentional, I would thank him.
***The Gift, part deux***
As the Cavs move forward, they’re faced with one other not unsubstantial hurdle—they’re as of now a pretty bad basketball team. In fact, at 15-58, the Cavs are the worst team in the league.
I’d say LeBron left a hole at small forward, but that would be understating—he left a crater.
Where’s the gift in that?
Said Henry Araton, New York Times, in July:
"Who outside of South Florida wants to root for Miami after the way James walked out on Cleveland and his home territory of northern Ohio in a mercenary reach for championship rings? On the other hand, who won’t want to see the three-man super team play with the hope of watching it take a big fall? Had James stayed in Cleveland, he would have had the support of a nation wanting to see The Loyal One rewarded. Teaming up with Wade, Bosh and Darth Riley makes him more antihero than hero — but perhaps an even more marketable commodity for the N.B.A. brand."
The gift is in that final observation.
Every eye, especially in Cleveland, is on Miami, willing them to lose each and every night with a fervor usually reserved for the Game 7s of their respective teams.
To a Cleveland franchise facing apocalyptic fallout, this centralized disgust is a commodity akin to water. There is something far more dangerous to an NBA team than a few seasons of ineptitude. Apathy. It’s tougher to recover from the latter.
For the next few seasons, while the Cavaliers rebuild, LeBron has given us something to focus on.
As fans, we approach sports as narrative. We watch the games through a team-colored lens and take it upon ourselves to imbue each struggle, each success with some kind of real world significance and meaning. We want to find the story. We want to see the good and evil.
The gift of LeBron has been the elimination of his grey area.
He’s the bad guy.
No longer anything resembling who he was, what we worked so hard to make him out to be.
Sometimes it’s better to be dumped than it is to have the love of your life walk away gracefully. Maybe not in the moment, but in the long run.
Last night, James missed (skipped) the team bus, then was delayed getting into the arena when he arrived with some buddies and a second car.
Official statement: “Cavs spokesman Tad Carper said visiting NBA players are not normally given private car access to the underground garage, but exceptions are made when requests are made in advance.”
Dan Gilbert after the game: “Not in our garage!!”
Petty? Sure. Hysterical? Uh huh. Exactly what 99.9 percent of the fan base was thinking as they read that story? There’s not a question in my mind.
There’s more:
LeBron, on ducking the player introductions: “I was using the rest room. Am I allowed to do that?” Never admit a mistake.
On the Cavs win: “We’re playing for something bigger.” Never apologize.
In closing: “Best of luck to the team in the future.” Always stick to the script.
Speaking for the fans, this is what we thrive on.
Clamoring for the kind of real rivalries that have of late seemed extinct, the Cavs have been handed perhaps the most riveting one in the league.
I read in Windhorst’s column last night that Cavs fans have bought nearly 98 percent of available tickets this season. If you’ve been watching the games, it’s obvious. And amazing. We’re in late-March, the Cavs are 15-58—worst record in the NBA—and I defy you to find me tape of a more raucous crowd at a pro game this season than the Cavs crowd last night.
“As loud as I’ve ever heard,” says Windhorst.
There is something to cheer for.
There is someone to cheer against.
The Cavs can’t keep this up forever. There will come a point when all the vitriol in the world won’t keep people in the stands to watch a sub-.200 team.
But, counter to the majority assessment, I don’t get the impression the Cavs will be floundering much longer. I like Chris Grant.
And to be honest, I love Dan Gilbert.
For all the flak he’s taken on account of his post-Decision decisions, I’ve yet to speak with a single Cavs fan who doesn’t chuckle when his letter is brought up. I’ve yet to speak with a Cavs fan that thinks his promises aren’t sincere.
Gilbert may be overzealous, but this is a guy who brought $30 million worth of Baron Davis to a then 10-47 team for the sole reason of procuring one extra lottery pick. He paid $30 million dollars for what would currently be the eighth pick in the draft. I’m not sure even Mark Cuban signs off on that move.
When the Cavs are ready to contend again, Gilbert will supply them with every resource he has available.
Like the Cavs fans, he’s already all in.
Yesterday, Gilbert watched from courtside as the Cavs scored their biggest win of the season.
I watched from couchside with my father and brother, and things seem better now.
Nine months removed from The Decision and I’m still sick to my stomach.
This time, it’s not because of LeBron.
This time, I ate four bowls of popcorn.
