The Road Less Traveled: LeBron's Game of Thrones and His Unrequitted NBA Legacy By Sheldon Taylor

                                

Watching the bubble burst during Game 6 of the NBA Finals, a mental loop of LL Cool J's 1990 vintage album cut The Power of God was on endless repeat in my brain: Never before was a man so far behind/and came back to rule for a long time.

 LL's lyrical offering to the Most High laid at the metaphoric altar took on a new meaning for me while pondering the infinite dominance of another (earthly) king---LeBron Raymone James. Fourteen playoff appearances and four championship rings in seventeen years still hasn't silenced criticism from naysayers continuing to rain down like manna from heaven. 

For many critics, LBJ's hefty statistical bridge is constructed from a weak foundation---A less physical league diluted by kinship between opposing players. Team stacking. Franchise hopping. Truth be told, James isn't the first athlete viewed with skepticism for taking the road less traveled. 

For seven straight seasons Eric Dickerson was the best running back in the NFL. While O.J. Simpson, Walter Payton, Gale Sayers, Jim Brown and Earl Campbell sacrificed their bodies penetrating punishing defenses, Dickerson ran out of bounds to avoid excessive contact after plays. Breezing through the league racking up rushing titles and breaking records, Dickerson would never be truly accepted by fans and predecessors as one of the true greats who played at his position.  

Boxing enthusiasts in favor of all-out slugfests panned Bernard Hopkins and Floyd Mayweather's crafty defense-minded tactics that allowed them avoid the fate of Muhammad Ali, Wilfred Benitez, Aaron Pryor and countless other fighters suffering long-term boxing injuries due to the punishment they took in the ring.

There's an historical underside to all of this. James has been cast as some sort of villain---Wilt Chamberlain, Spencer Haywood and Isaiah Thomas rolled into one. Steamrolling through the playoffs dismantling competitors, critics panned his dominance against younger players the way Wilt Chamberlain was picked apart because he excelled in nascent league of less superior teams.

A benefactor of Haywood's legal victory allowing players to bypass college and enter the NBA, James' own upward trajectory was met with similar scrutiny and controversy Haywood endured when he entered the league as a gifted man-child. Under intense pressure to lift their teams out of mediocrity, Haywood and James feuded with autocratic owners and coaches. They were targeted by envious veterans out to protect their jobs and legacies. These experiences saw both players  cultivate hardened exteriors that cast them as brooding malcontents. 

Like Thomas, James' comments on race polarized white fans. Laker owner Jeannie Buss publicly  posted a letter received from an angry racist Laker supporter on her social media page. The Finals low ratings were blamed on James-inspired NBA response to social injustice---a throwback to the  70s when an increasingly Black dominated league drove away white viewership and attendance. Senator Ted Cruz gleefully celebrated the ratings drop-off with a twitter post: #gowokegobroke. 

Watching James campaign for respect while collecting his MVP trophy conjured up images of Russell Crowe's Maximus character from Gladiator. After outlasting his opponents in bloody battle royale, Maximus victoriously berates a jeering coliseum crowd: are you not entertained? 

Dominance and winning has long been the criteria for greatness but room was always made for  context and climate. Except where James is concerned. Let's think for a minute. How would Russell's Celtics or the Yankees Murder's Row dynasties would have fared against teams stocked with elite Black players? DiMaggio's 56-hit streak or Ruth's 714 homers may not have happened with Negro League pitchers like Satchel Paige and Bill Foster on the mound. It raises a question. Should an asterisk be added to these sacred milestones due to lack of inclusion of true talent?

Make no mistake. The admiration for sports heroes hits better when they're battled tested. Examples are many: Ali's wars against Fraizer, Foreman, Norton and Spinks are epic. Jordan's seven years of wandering in the basketball wilderness before finally reaching the Promised Land is Mosaic. Then there's Allen Iverson's David against a stacked Laker team of Goliathian proportions during the Finals. We can't forget about Buffalo's four consecutive Super Bowl losses.

Jordan's six rings may forever be the gold standard for greatness. Larry Legend and Magic's championship runs may run a close second. Kobe's killer instinct is respected and A.I.'s pluck will forever be revered. It's now time to give James his due. 

Before James, the average NBA career path was pretty linear. Carve out a solid career. Maybe win a title or two before landing in the analyst chair. James created another pathway destined to define his entire career. Instead of handing himself over to outside handlers, James and his Akron crew  built a successful sports management and multimedia empire.

 James continued the tradition of power moves established by older stars. During the 1980s, Julius Erving purchased a Coca-Cola bottling company becoming the first minority-owned Coke bottler. Michael Jordan amassed a huge endorsement portfilio. Shaquille O'Neal would establish the  multi-hyphenate blueprint expanding his brand into music and film and business. Eventually delving deeper into business and other interests, Jordan and O'Neal's initial groundbreaking vehicles were a result of their basketball prowess and identity as pop culture icons. 

James upped the ante. Erving's business endeavors began at the tail end of his career. LeBron plotted out his future from the beginning. Deftly balancing between basketball and off-court roles as content creator, music producer, sports management and educator, James maintained a longer period of court excellence than O'Neal.

Coming up short during early finals and playoff appearances, James redefined the NBA journeyman tag and moved through the league like an independent contractor, collecting large paydays and NBA titles. Rather than embrace an antiquated divide-and-conquer model pitting players against each other like warriors on the battle field, James helped institute a fraternal relationship between players that wouldn't have happened in previous eras. 

In a different climate, James and Carmelo Anthony would have been rivals. A reboot of Michael Jordan and Clyde Drexler. Instead they would become close friends, enjoying mutual respect even as Anthony's career failed to reach the proportions of his contemporary. In the James era, players flaunted personal relationships on and off the court. Leveraging these alliances, they elevated to positions of NB stakeholders powerful enough to mobilize the league against social injustice in ways that Magic and Isaiah and Jordan never would.  

When Fox News journalist Laura Ingraham advised James to "shut up and dribble," James responded less than a year later with a multi-part documentary entitled More Than An Athelete, chronicling the legacy of African-American sports activism. James would tap ESPN persona non grata journalist, friend and activist-minded colleague Jemele Hill to host it. 

 In response to his role as activist, James' respond is rooted in ancestral reincarnation: “I’m inspired by the likes of Muhammad Ali, I’m inspired by the Bill Russells and the Kareem Abdul-Jabbars, the Oscar Robertsons — those guys who stood when the times were even way worse than they are today “Hopefully, someday down the line, people will recognize me not only for the way I approached the game of basketball, but the way I approached life as an African-American man."

As the Lakers celebrated their first title win in a decade, I watched James exhibit a level of class normally associated with the likes of Julius Erving. He celebrated Anthony Davis' first title win as if it was his own. He acknowledged his teammates and the importance of restoring the Laker franchise to glory. Most poignant of all was that the LA title run's Gipper-esque feel---James and the Lakers were committed to bringing the title home in memory of fallen Laker Kobe Bryant.

Once word describes James career: interdependence. The careers of Earl Campbell, Walter Payton and just about every other athlete in a team sport suffered from lack of it. James' career thrived because of it. He understood that there was strength in numbers and no man is a mountain.Once again, LL's profound lyrics from The Power of God come to mind: "He doesn't understand the power of the 'preme/doesn't realize I'm rollin' with a team." 

 If greatness is measured by individuality wins Michael Jordan is the GOAT. If greatness is by impacting the collective than LeBron is a GIANT---the greatest in any time. More than a leader of teams, he was a leader of men, liberating his colleagues from  the NBA's old ways. A modern day-millenial race man. When the NFL dropped the ball, James picked it up and helped transform the NBA into a model of conciousness and agent for social change. He funded a school for at-risk youth and created a foundation advoacting voter coalition all while playing at a high level. 

Jordan comparisons aside----for me, James is more akin to Serana Williams---another great athlete that ascended to the professional ranks in her teens who endured heavy criticism as she dominated her sport like no other. His durability after seventeen years in the league is unmatched by any other player. By the end of his tenure, it's safe to say he will reach number two on the all-time scoring list. The jury is still out whether or not the public will acknowledge is once-in-a-lifetime greatness. If James is truly crowned King---no doubt it will come at a price. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

 For years Kobe's killer instinct and devout focus to winning was something to both revere or revile. The villanous hard edges of his playing days would be softened by retirement and the tragedy of his untimely death. Absorbing the critical jabs of teammates and colleagues in real time during The Last Dance, Jordan tearfully pondered whether his own killer instinct and drive was worth it. In his prime Allen Iverson reveled in his rebel identity as NBA-odd man-out. Stuck on  the sideline during a second transitional act never reaching the heights of his first, his impact lives on in the memories of admirers as if he never left the game. 

What of James? Still in top shape as his best years may be of ahead of him. Maybe he'll last long enough to play with his son to become the first father-son in the NBA. He might secure a couple more rings to silence the critics. One things for sure---you'll never see him in an analyst chair pining for the good old days while collecting a paycheck. I envision him walking off in the sunset enroute to greener pastures---leaving the league behind as critcs who failed to recognize the  greatness of a baskebatball diety lament for paradise lost.