An Open Letter To LeBron James
Friday, May 14, 2010Posted by Jeremy Conlin
Dear LeBron James,
This column is going to be very hard for me to write. I’m very confused. And a little bit angry. I’m not used to being confused. But your performance in the Boston series has me confused.
I’m confused because you, my favorite current player, came off your 2nd straight Most Valuable Player award, and then failed to live up to that title over the last 15 days.
I’m confused because your failure to raise your play to the next level flies in the face of everything you’ve done prior to this in your career. Although you have never won an NBA championship, you have always stepped up when it counts. Games 5 and 6 against Washington in 2006, Game 5 against Detroit in 2007, Games 6 and 7 against Boston in 2008. I don’t need to tell you the details. You already know. You were there. However, you never won. Every year for the first six years of your career, you failed to win a championship. So the question became why. Where should the fingers be pointed? Only the harshest (and dumbest) of critics pointed the finger at you. See, unlike young Jordan or young Kobe, the criticisms of selfishness and ball-hogging didn’t apply, as you were and are one of the most accomplished passers of any forward in the history of the league. The labels of “jerk” and “bad teammate” didn’t stick either, as you’re a gregarious, larger than life figure that gets along great with everyone. Everything I’ve ever read about you suggests that, as does the rapport you have with your teammates that we can all see on the court. So the blame went on your teammates, and understandably so. As Charles Barkley is wont to say, you were Michael Jackson playing with a bunch of Titos. You guys weren’t expected to win a championship because the supporting cast wasn’t championship-caliber. So nobody lost any sleep over it.
In 2009, the first year the team around you was considered to be championship-caliber, there was a litany of glaring weaknesses with the team that didn’t get exposed until the Orlando series. However, none of them seemed to be your fault. Don’t blame you, blame Mike Brown, who was unable to make in-game adjustments and tried to guard the 6-10 Hedo Turkoglu on the wing with the 6-3 Delonte West. Blame Mo Williams for failing to rise to the occasion when you needed a wingman. Blame the front office for failing to flip Wally Szczerbiak’s expiring contract for one more piece. Blame the big men for being unable to defend Dwight Howard one-on-one. There were fundamental problems with the way the team had been constructed. The interior defense was weak, as was the pick-and-roll defense. There was too much of you going one-on-five, as none of your teammates could create offense on their own. But the real reason that nobody could blame you was because you had played amazing. In every single game (with the possible exception of Game 6), you were clearly and obviously the best player on the floor. The popular joke was that you had done everything you possibly could have, only you had less help than Tony Montana had in the final scene of Scarface. It was Michael and Tito all over again.
That’s what made this Boston series so confusing. It wasn’t Michael and Tito. It was Jermaine and Tito. You looked human for the first time in the playoffs since the 2007 Finals. Making it even more confusing was that you were coming off the most convincing MVP campaign since Shaquille O’Neal in 2000, and had just capped off a full-scale butt-whoopin’ of a supremely underrated Chicago team, averaging a 32/8/9 over five games. So why, pray tell, were you playing so poorly? In 6 games, over the course of 24 quarters, you only played like the 2010 MVP in 5 of them: The 3rd and 4th quarters of Game 1, the first and 2nd quarters of Game 3, and the fourth quarter of Game 6. For the other 19, you were indescribably pedestrian. In more than half of the games of this series, you weren’t the best player on the floor. Keep in mind; we haven’t been able to say that about you since the 2007 Finals. In the first half of Game 1, as well as the entireties of Games 2, 4, and 5, you got outplayed by Rajon Rondo. In Game 5, in my honest opinion, you played unquestionably the worst game of your professional career. With the series tied 2-2, at home, everything was primed for you to lay the kibosh on the Celtics and grab a stranglehold on the series. This is the type of game that you had lived for your first six years in the league. Any other year, you would have come out swinging, never taking your foot off the gas pedal, and finished with a 33-9-11 or something. Instead, you came out flat, played without any urgency, and had body language that exuded fright, hesitance, and even lazyness. It was legitimately bizarre to watch. Coming from someone who has seen probably 80% of your games over the course of your career, I can’t remember ever seeing you experience the problems you did during Game 5.
That’s why I’m writing this. I want to understand. I NEED to understand. What could possibly cause you to play as poorly as you did in this series, and specifically Game 5? The Skip Bayless patented “LeBron isn’t that good, and never will be” argument doesn’t make sense, because the six years of evidence prior to this postseason shows that you DO step up when the money is on the table. Was your elbow bothering you? It’s unclear, considering the aggressiveness you played with in Games 1 and 3. Was it possible that the elbow injury was only affecting you at random times? I suppose, but did that really explain you were playing THAT poorly? And I can understand that the elbow, if causing discomfort, would result in less efficient play, but a lack of effort is not something that I ever thought I would expect out of you. Was the elbow affecting you mentally, causing you to lose confidence in your jump shot? Again, I’m dubious, considering your performances in Games 1, 3, and 6. Was the Celtics defense really that good that it completely threw you for a loop? The same Celtics that played .500 ball for four months, and look lethargic and apathetic for the entire 2nd half of the season? This was the team that was going to knock you out? Sorry, but something doesn’t add up. Never in the history of the NBA has a team played as poorly as they did for four months, and then turn it on in the playoffs and kick ass. Seriously, look it up. It’s never happened. So why was this team giving you so much trouble? Please, tell me. Because I would like to know.
Ultimately, it’s a question with no real answer. But I’m still confused. And angry. Angry that you didn’t step up when you needed to. Angry that you were unable to lead your team where they needed to be. At this point, are we sure that you’re even a good leader? Did I misinterpret your unselfishness and excellent friendship with all of your teammates as leadership? Like young Jordan and Kobe from 2003-2008, your teammates wilted under pressure. Is it because they weren’t good enough, or was it because you couldn’t raise their games under pressure? Granted, there was nothing you could do about Antawn Jamison’s inability to defend Kevin Garnett, nor was there anything you could do about Shaq’s inability to defend the pick-and-roll, but nobody can deny that you dictate the pace and mood of your team, and for most of this series, the pace was lethargic and the mood was sullen. You came out flat in Game 1, and so did your teammates. It didn’t turn around until the 2nd half, when you became more aggressive and so did everyone else. In Game 2, you didn’t play like you, and nobody else did, either. Your teammates play up to your energy level when you’re playing well, but when you aren’t, you aren’t making your teammates better, you’re making them worse. During the regular season, you were able to affect games even when you weren’t scoring, by driving aggressively to the basket and setting up your teammates as spot-up shooters or dive-cutters to the rim. So where was that aggressiveness in this series? Why did we not see it? Why were you playing so passively? I don’t understand. Apathy is a trait that I’ve never seen from you, not once in your entire career. So what happened in Game 5? Again, I am confused. And angry.
Because of Game 5, the blood is on your hands for the first time in your career. For once, you are the #1 reason why your team lost. You’ve had poor performances before, but they were understandably poor. This time, as you may have realized by now, is hard to understand. Game 5 will serve as one of the defining moments of your career. Twenty years from now, depending on where your career is headed, we will either remember it as the key turning point, when you finally turned your career around and became the player that we all want you to become, or we’ll remember it as the first time we realized that you were more of a Karl Malone or Charles Barkley than Michael Jordan or Magic Johnson.
So LeBron, do you have it? Do you have the Jordan/Bird/Russell “I would rather staple my eyelids to my elbows than lose this game” gene? Or do you have the Shaq “winning is the most important, but it’s not the end of the world if I don’t win” gene? Or do you have a completely different gene? In Bill Simmons’ column on Friday, he compared you to Dr. J. Are you just here to amaze us, dunk on dudes’ heads, and hopefully win a title in the process? It’s a question that only you know the answer to. The rest of us can only guess.
But let me offer this advice: you have said that you want to win championships. That is what is most important to you. If that is the case, please, consider two destinations this summer, and only two. You need a sidekick. You don’t want to have Michael and Tito all over again. You don’t want to re-create Gretzky’s years in Los Angeles.
That’s why the first choice should be Chicago. Team up with Derrick Rose and Joakim Noah, two guys who could absolutely be the 2nd and 3rd-best guys on a championship team. If you can sign-and-trade for Chris Bosh or Amar’e Stoudemire (using Luol Deng as the centerpiece of the deal), even better. You’ll be in a great market with great fans for a franchise synonymous with winning. Every championship team in history had an alpha dog, but just about every team also featured another top-20 player in the league. In NBA history, the only exceptions I can think of are the 2004 Pistons, the 2003 Spurs, the 1994 Rockets, the 1990 Pistons, and the 1989 Pistons. Jordan had Pippen. Bird had McHale. Magic and Kareem had each other. Russell had Jones and Havlicek. Shaq had Kobe. Kobe had Gasol. You’ve been on your own for your entire career. You can’t win a title with only one guy. That’s why you need help. Rose and Noah will be that help.
However, if Chicago isn’t what you want, I could understand. You’d be too close to the Jordan legacy. You would constantly be measured against him, even more so than if you played in another market. And if that’s the case, the second play should be New Jersey. In New Jersey, they would have enough room to sign two Max Contracts. One would be you, the other would be Chris Bosh or Amar’e. From there, New Jersey would have a top-4 pick in this upcoming draft, as well as a legit center in Brook Lopez, and valuable trade chips in Devin Harris and Yi Jianlian. If the Nets land the #1 pick, they can turn around and trade Devin Harris and Yi Jianlian (along with Josh Boone and Kris Humphries expiring contract) to Atlanta for Joe Johnson, or perhaps just Devin Harris to Boston for Ray Allen. If they don’t land John Wall, no worries. They’ll end up with Evan Turner, or Derrick Favors, or Wesley Johnson. If you sign there, and bring another Max Guy with you, New Jersey will be loaded to the gills. You’ll have an owner that’s willing to spend money. You’ll be moving to Brooklyn in 2012. You’ll have teammates that you can rely on.
So LeBron, this summer will be very important for you. You can make a decision that moves you forward (going to Chicago or New Jersey), a decision that treads water (staying in Cleveland, going to New York), or a decision that sends you backwards (going to the Clippers). All that I want to see is you in the best position possible, basketball-wise. In the last two postseasons, your teammates were unable to raise their games when it really mattered. Whether that blame should be placed on you is up for debate. Last year? No. This year? Maybe. So I’d like to see you in a situation where your teammates are good enough that they don’t need you to take over for them every single possession. With Rose/Noah or Lopez/Max Free Agent X/Top-4 Pick Y, you will have that luxury. Playing with that level of talent will only elevate your game to the next level. You will have a championship worthy team. And finally, we’ll see what you’re really capable of.
Regards,
Jeremy Conlin
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