Lebron's heel

Let’s look at a math equation.

Take a 17-year-old boy. Give him phenomenal, even transcendent, talent. Add in a nickname — King. Give him a Nike deal before he ever plays an NBA game. Multiply that by making him the youngest person ever on a Sports Illustrated cover. Oh, and then add in another nickname — The Chosen One. Subtract the maturation process of college.

The outcome of that equation — LeBron James — is the most talented human being to ever pick up a basketball, bar none.

Much of this is due to his physical gifts. He is a literal freak of nature, as he is 6 feet 8 inches tall, has 260-ish pounds of pure muscle and doesn’t even lift weights.

He could’ve been a Pro Bowl NFL player. He probably still could be. He’s an annual All-Star and a two-time MVP.

He is also LeBrick. The Frozen One. Never ask LeBron for change for a dollar; he’ll only give you three quarters. Overrated. Ringless. The most hated man in Ohio. What explains the dichotomy of LeBron James?

The game of expectations.

LeBron, despite the tattoo, did not name himself The Chosen One. That was us. Same with “King.”

We are the ones who made it so that LeBron’s hated “decision” raised $3 million in sold commercials — all of which, by the way, was donated to charity.

Let’s put this in perspective: People burned LeBron jerseys because staying in Ohio apparently outweighs donating $3 million to charity.

Why is LeBron the Frozen One? Because he did not perform as we expected him to perform in the NBA Finals last season. Once again, our expectations are at play. Perhaps, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, Skip Bayless is right.

Maybe LeBron isn’t clutch. Maybe he’s not a born winner. A great body of evidence contradicts that: three state championships in high school, as well as dominating performance in 90 percent of his NBA career. But he fell short in one series.

This conversation would be deficient without discussion of His Airness Michael Jordan. Earlier, I said James was the “most talented” person to pick up a basketball. Michael Jordan is, unequivocally, the greatest to ever do so.

While the jury is out on LeBron’s ability to win, Jordan consistently displayed that ability with ease. The comparisons are inevitable, and Jordan always comes out favorably. 

But we forget and forgive too easily. MJ is the greatest, but he was also possibly the meanest, nastiest man to touch a basketball.

His 22-minute Hall of Fame induction speech is widely regarded as a low point for basketball specifically and humanity generally. He flew out a teammate who had beaten him for a starting spot in high school in order to make a point about how stupid his coach had been.

I repeat: He paid for a man to come to his Hall of Fame speech in order to belittle him.  Meanwhile, LeBron’s money funds Boys and Girls Clubs in Cleveland. Blocks away, his jerseys were burned. 

We need not compare the two, but we do, in part because they are great and in part because the 17-year-old LeBron was named the “Air Apparent” by Sports Illustrated.

What wasn’t Jordan? He wasn’t corrupted by shoes and Hummers into thinking he was King.

He wasn’t The Chosen One before he played a single NBA game.

LeBron is not the first to lose the game of expectations, nor will he be the last. A day after a poll came out showing an incredible 43 percent of Americans believe Tim Tebow’s success is due to “divine intervention,” Tebow’s Broncos collapsed against the Patriots.

When we create idols, they are toppled. They must be. The human urge to tear down monuments is as strong as the urge to build them.

LeBron James is not the next Michael Jordan. He might not be The Chosen One. He is not always what we expect of him.

He is good, amazingly good, at the game of basketball. But he never asked to play our game of expectations.


­— shlumorg@indiana.edu