I. Fandom
What does it mean to be a true fan, to be a lover of the game of basketball? Certainly more than simply being loyal to the home team; but what, exactly? We can’t ask the help of the Data Analytics Department, because we’re dealing here with something more ethereal than data: something like spirit. Better, then, to ask: who are the custodians of the spiritual legacy bequeathed by Elgin, Oscar, Wilt, Bob Pettit, and Bill Russell, that marvelous cadre of players who transformed the meaning of basketball during the 1950’s, when the league was still struggling for legitimacy, popularity, and cultural relevance?
Growing up four local stops from the 50th Street Garden during the pre-Frazier-Reed Knickerbocker era, when the Knicks were hardly worth it, I rooted instead for Pettit’s St. Louis Hawks. Thus unmoored from the dictates of partisan geographic loyalty, I have since felt free to root for teams (and individual players) that epitomized the way basketball should be played, unless they were the Celtics, of course (though I did agonize about that during Bill Walton’s stint in Boston). This even briefly included the Knicks–when they played perfect team ball under Red Holzman–but also extended West to include Walton’s Portland Trailblazers during their charmed year and a half run, before tragedy struck.
So why don’t I like this Golden State juggernaut, which sometimes brings smart passing and unselfish play to the level of the Knicks and Blazers teams I loved?
Let me count the ways; should I? No, better just to summarize: the toxic mix of jingoism, triumphalism, entitlement, self-righteousness, and lack of a sense of reality that characterizes the arena, the fans, the management, and extends to antics like the shimmying Steph Curry indulged in after getting hot against Houston. How does that not qualify as taunting?
Instead, it’s seen as a form of enthusiasm and cuteness, indicative of the same mentality that spawned the nickname of “Hampton Five” for the combination of Kevin Durant and the four star players who accomplished their mission of convincing him to betray Russell Westbrook and the OKC franchise (which he’d already trashed by resorting to playing hero ball in the decisive sixth game of their Western Final against his new suitors), in the name of ruining the league’s competitive balance. Enough! We’ve come to praise LeBron James, not to bury Kevin Durant.
II. Loving LeBron, Truly
James likes to say there’s nothing like the seventh game of a series. After his magnificent 46 point effort in Game Six against the Celtics, elevating his career record to 11-3 in playoff games (excluding the Finals) in which his team was facing elimination, ESPN’s splendid commentator Doris Burke told us all that she considers herself lucky to have watched this man work. “As always, perfectly said, Doris,” mansplained a colleague’s voice.
Well, no arguing with James for me, but, with the NBA playoffs comprising four best-of-seven rounds, and lasting a full two months, a seventh game often comes at the expense of enduring a boringly long middle. Of course, you can’t have those exciting seventh games in a five game series, but still.
To take a similar tack, how about the idea that the conference Finals are as good as we get these days? There just isn’t a good enough series out there to justify seven games, I had thought but here, suddenly, were two.
In the East, Boston-Cleveland was a war, adhering to home court advantage for the first six games, though many believed it to be the lesser war. Across the Mississippi, with Golden State sparring with Houston, the Warriors once again had a significant stroke of luck to help their cause: Chris Paul’s hamstring pull echoed previous playoff injuries to such opposing stars as Mike Conley, Kawhi Leonard, Kevin Love, and Kyrie Irving, injuries that tarnished (in some people’s eyes) the Warriors’ previous recent titles[1].
This marked the first year since 1979 that both conference Finals went seven games, with the Eastern Final providing a showcase for James to win over a great many fans to the growing consensus- which now includes Walt Frazier[2]–that he has now surpassed Michael Jordan (or Oscar Robertson, for the few of us holdouts left standing) in the mythical battle for the designation of greatest player of all time[3].
Not only did James heroically and magnificently manage to lead–seemingly to will–his otherwise inferior (especially with the injured Kevin Love missing the last two victories against Boston) Cleveland team to a victory against the multi-talented and expertly coached Celtics. He also showed that he had worked hard to eliminate–consistently, and at long last, in this his fifteenth season–the lazy drift that has always limited the consistency of his jump shot. This change was amply attested to by the consecutive three-pointers in the last two minutes of Game Six, sealing victory in what was perhaps his best game of the entire series.
Game Six was also notable for a spectacular play that epitomized–for me–what separates James from even the extraordinary pack of great young players that form the terrestrial echelon just below their universally acknowledged King[4]. With his team ahead 63-49 early in the third quarter, James scored a lay-up on a fast break, with his momentum naturally carrying him past the end line, leaving him several steps behind when the Celtics quickly in-bounded to take advantage of having a ready-made five-on- four fast break.
James could easily have sat the possession out. Instead, he began jogging running briskly up-court, tracking, and stealthily stalking the Celtic break, unseen by his prey, the unsuspecting Terry Rozier, the recipient of the pass that James had diagnosed would be coming. LeBron then obliterated Rozier’s lay-up, in what has become his signature style on “chase down” blocks, a frightening Wilt-like maneuver that may not have existed as a phenomenon before James. This breath-taking play was as remarkable for its conception as for its execution, perfectly exemplifying not only James’s physical superiority but his determination, effort, and subtly nuanced understanding of the game.
Many years ago, I dove into the GOAT waters by asserting [Bob’s articles for firstofthemonth.com] that, by dint of his unique combination of superior all-court basketball skills and over-powering strength previously associated only with dominant centers (the prototype being Wilt), James was on his way to obliterating the distinction between best overall player and best big man, a hedging of bets in the GOAT wars that was previously inconceivable.
This was at a time when the NBA was in a period of mild post-Jordan decline, and I had just about lost interest in watching, figuring that I had pretty much seen it all. Lebron changed all that for me. I began watching him whenever I could, because, suddenly, there was always a pretty good chance I’d see something entirely unprecedented, like that chase-down block. It’s still true.
James’s newly stabilized jump shot suggests that he is adapting his always impressive work ethic, perhaps in preparation for the time (almost unimaginable, just as it had been in Wilt’s heyday) when his athleticism no longer simply overwhelms opponents; for the inevitable physical decline that he has staved off with a combination of extreme fitness ($1.5 million for a personal trainer, who actually resides with him) and iron discipline.
These qualities supplement the God-given talent that makes him the first player to rival Wilt for all-around physical dominance, with what Jeff Van Gundy calls (recalling the way Chamberlain used to be described) his “superhuman strength.” Combining these gifts with his superior basketball IQ makes him, well, simply the best ever. And it didn’t used to be so simple! either! As with Rozier’s lay-up, the dichotomy has been erased; one could even say “transcended.”
And just in time, for several of the new breed of “unicorns” (players who bring outsize physical gifts and skills to positions ordinarily occupied by mere mortals: Giannis Antetokounmpo, Joel Embiid, Ben Simmons, Kristaps Porzingis; and if Durant were a bit younger, we’d be including him here) have served notice that the game’s DNA (the leading edge of mankind’s) may be changing radically.
III. At Last: Those Seventh Games
In Game Seven, Boston’s 10-0 playoff home record faced off against James’s 11-3 elimination game record, quite a feat in view of the fact that all of those games came against teams that had already won three games in whichever series. James had compiled 23 straight Eastern playoff series wins, averaging 34.9 in Game Sevens.
This was as good as it’s gonna get: James holding off–for now–a budding dynasty in resurgence under a coach so calm and plainspoken that one might overlook or underestimate his brilliance. Boston was loaded, young, and ready to add injured stars Kyrie Irving and Gordon Hayward next year.
In an ugly first quarter, it took 7:14 for any of LeBron’s team-mates to contribute a single field goal. The reminder of the 26-18 quarter would yield only one more. LeBron had 12 of Cleveland’s meager 18.
As James began to tire under the load he was carrying[5], Boston slowed as well; play degenerated down to 43-39 half-time score. The teams combined shot only 6-36 on threes. James added only five to his first quarter twelve, but had ten first half rebounds.
With nothing coming easy for either team, Cleveland wrested the lead, increasing it to 56-51, as James mixed scoring with orchestration, ending an ugly third quarter at 59-56 with a three-pointer. Boston had tallied only 13, despite rookie Jayson Tatum’s continuing to cavort like a confident stud.
With Doris Burke after the third quarter, Stevens exuded confidence and calm, and then promptly harangued the refs into calling an eight second violation on James. Ignited by their coach, Boston briefly recaptured the lead. The team was being carried by Tatum, but, with little help from the trio of Jaylen Brown, Terry Rozier, and Marcus Smart, (all of them shooting poorly), he would lose his duel with James.
The lead mounted to 81-74, with James hitting George Hill with a snap pass that he concealed as stealthily as he had his chase down intentions in Game Six. His numbers (35-15-9) seemed exactly right, not budging his 34.9 average in Seventh games. He had controlled the game physically, varying its pace to suit his rhythms. An orchestrator par excellence.
Interviewed after, in a stunning metaphor, LeBron vowed to “squeeze the most juice out of this horse” (his Cleveland supporting cast), but against Golden State, he may well be beating a dead one.
IV. Whatever.
Did I even want to see him to carry his marginally competent team-mates into a slugfest with Golden State’s collection of pampered stars? I flashed on the first Ali-Frazier fight which so horrified me in what it seemed to–and finally did–augur for Ali; then the bullfight I witnessed in 1962 in Barcelona: a wounded, staggering beast, butchered by a bungling matador who was no more skilled than James’ team-mates looked.
In Houston for Game Seven, with Andre Iguadola out, it was as if as all the Hampton jive had gone out of Durant. Just as he had in Game Six, he regressed to OKC hero ball behavior for much of a game in which Golden State again spotted its foes a double-digit lead. In Game Six, they had been down 39-22 at the quarter, before executing a 46 point turnaround to win in a rout.
Finally, it was the same story in Games Six and Seven: a 33-15 third quarter wiped out a Houston that had once reached 15. As in Game Six, Eric Gordon’s star quality emerged in Chris Paul’s absence, but could only shine through the first half.
Without Paul’s musical accompaniment, Harden had to play–as it were–@Capella. But no-one could hear his music: Houston had 27 straight missed 3’s, going 7-44 overall on threes, which had been their ticket to a 65 win season. With Durant getting 34, and Curry showing that he’s over his most recent leg injury by going 43 minutes, hitting seven threes, and barely missing a triple double (27-10-9), Golden State survived a poor coaching decision by Steve Kerr, who left Klay Thompson in to pick up an early third foul. Still, Thompson, who tallied 35 in Game six, hit big shots after getting back in the game. The Warriors were, as it were, locked and loaded for the Finals.
With James’ sensational run through the East, any fair evaluation of him can put behind us his baffling disappearance in the 2011 Dallas-Miami series, his seeming quit against Boston in frustration the previous year, and the embarrassing way “The Decision” was conducted. Since returning to Cleveland four yeas ago, LeBron has assumed statesmanlike proportions as he’s continued to grow his greatness. And now he’s even stabilized his jump shot!
If it’s time for him to share the load with such young studs as Embiid and Simmons, let him age gracefully and promote their games. It’s now his league, his game, his job to carry, advance, and pass on its spirit. After him, we’ll need all the unicorns we can get.
But not quite yet. James is now 12-3 in elimination games, and that leaves out three more from the Cavs’s 2016 comeback from a 1-3 deficit. So it’s presumptuous to believe he can be counted out. The Warriors must beware letting the series drag on beyond five games, as they did in 2016, the year Cleveland beat them after being down 3-1. Against my own instincts, I might not mind seeing LeBron play another Game Seven.
But he probably won’t: these cats just got too many shooters; and fresh bodies; plus their system. The way they closed out first half leads against Houston showed that they always have more in the tank. I’m afraid it’ll be another one of those bullfights. There will be times when James, while carrying the offense, will also be asked to guard Durant.
May LeBron carry his burden with his recently acquired, but now characteristic, grace. Bill Russell and Oscar Robertson take pride. So would Mohammed Ali.
Notes
1. Before the Warriors’ current era of domination–after Silicon Valley owners took over–there used to be a theory that the old Oakland Coliseum was built over an Indian grave site, damning its inhabitants to a series of failures, injuries, misguided draft choices, and internecine battles that included a star player–Lattrell Sprewell–physically assaulting Coach Pete Carlesimo in practice.
2. Observing that James is content with being an orchestrator and playing great defense, Knickerbocker legend and current broadcast announcer Walt Frazier (who when he says “great defense,” you listen) got it just right. “Jordan couldn’t do what this guy’s doing. Control games without scoring.” But why listen to Frazier? Because he makes you realize, even through the fog of his comic rhyming that you and I don’t know half of what we think we do about the game.
3. The designation of GOAT is a fetishistic notion endemic to fans of all stripes.
4. The regular season MVP, already voted upon but not yet revealed to the public, will likely be James Harden. Of course, the other James (LeBron, that is) is universally acknowledged to be, and is referred to as, the greatest player on the planet, but the MVP trophy now regularly gets distributed to a player who has had a spectacular season, and deserves special recognition. Otherwise, LeBron would be close to double figures in MVP trophies.
5. This Cavalier “supporting cast,” especially when Kevin Love is out, as he was for the last two games of the Celtics series, has been cast as the weakest James has ever had for a Finals series, though the 2006-07 Cavaliers who lost four straight to San Antonio would have to be considered strong rivals. That was LeBron’s first Finals series, in his fourth NBA season.