Keidel: LeBron's Legacy In Cleveland Seems To Be Being Left Short-Handed
By Jason Keidel
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What is the burden of greatness?
Is it expectations? His own or those of others? Is it the shadow his epic body casts on the court, or the symbolic shadow his talent casts across the nation?
Is it fatigue? Is he tired of leading the Cleveland Cavaliers in stats, sweat, and sound bites? Is it making good on a promise, practically on his own, while his more heralded teammates watch from the bench, broken bones on the mend, leaving him with a cast of castoffs?
When the ref tosses the ball up Tuesday night, LeBron James has 48 minutes to keep a public and poignant pledge he made to his hometown.
If nothing else, he can't let the Golden State Warriors wear his crown on his home court. It's more than the provincial price of your own building, it's about native soil and native souls.
James will not be taken to task if he loses this series. And, yes, the bull's-eye is on James, not his squad, which has morphed into a MASH unit. More than a few metrics have been used to measure this team, and it turns out few stars, if any, have had to lug a more sorry squad to the Finals than LeBron has with this club.
J.R. Smith is reminding everyone why he didn't work out in New York, with bad shots and rampant brain cramps. Iman Shumpert hasn't been much better, passing the ball to phantom teammates. LeBron's most celebrated teammate this series has been an Australian with a rugged game befitting to a Max Max sequel.
But as LeBron said the other day, he's the best player on the planet. He didn't say it with hubris, only the bedrock certainty of fact. He is the best, by a mile, despite the league MVP award currently on loan to Stephen Curry, who is a sublime, not divine, player.
No, LeBron is the Chosen One. But what was he chosen to do? To toil as an eternal bridesmaid in Ohio? To be the symbol of the rust belt, an area that can't quite get on its collective feet, bruised orphans of the American Dream?
If they lose this series, LeBron will have taken the dilapidated Cavaliers to two NBA Finals, both bookends around a rather fun run in Miami, his self-described spring break.
This isn't a referendum on his greatness, or even his legacy, as much as his fate. Maybe his bank account has ample digits to water his family tree for the next century, but if King James can't add a wine and gold jewel to his crown, his soul, not his savings, will have a hole.
This isn't a fair fight. Golden State has a conga line of fresh and fertile players spinning through the turnstile, while LeBron has only himself. But this was the road he chose. He wrote the letter, his ballad to his homeland, lamenting his crusade to bring sanctuary to a forlorn team and town.
But then Kevin Love and Kyrie Irving didn't have the physical fortitude to join him. It was either appalling or poetic, depending on your sense of irony. It leaves LeBron as a single and singular performer on a stage with character actors, while the Warriors keel throwing fresh bodies at him and high-arcing bombs from obscene distances.
To use a wildlife metaphor, LeBron is like a tired lion being circled by a pack of dogs. If just one or two members of his pride joined him, he could survive. But not even a player of LeBron's genius can bull his way through a healthy, 67-win team, with home court advantage, and the fresh scent of the team's first title since 1975.
Or can he? Is LeBron so singularly great that he can somehow pinball around the throng of big men who have been hacking him since the opening whistle and still fill the net enough times to take this series back to Oakland, where he will be four quarters from the greatest achievement in NBA history, immortality, and eternal Teflon?
Can he take solace in loss? Even if he becomes the only player other than Jerry West to win the Finals MVP for a losing team, can it keep his heart from snapping in two? He's only got so many runs like this left, no matter the depth or dearth of talent around him.
With the Western Conference so robust, there will always be a Golden State, some basketball swamp keeping LeBron ankle-deep in deficiencies.
But there's only one Chosen One. He didn't chose to play this game, and this series, with half a team. But it was chosen for him. It seems that's the burden of his greatness.
Follow Jason on Twitter at @JasonKeidel
