Winning isn't the only thing

It was six years ago that I shared an elevator ride with LeBron James in the Four Seasons Hotel in Toronto.

We were both there for the annual film festival. He was promoting a documentary chronicling his days as a basketball prodigy at St. Vincent-St. Mary High School in Akron, Ohio, called More Than a Game, which he'd had a hand in producing. I was on my way to an interview with Queen Latifah. I wasn't looking when James and his modest entourage slipped into the car ahead of me, otherwise I might have observed the unwritten protocol that calls for deference to royalty and waited for the next one. But I got in and the door closed and, in my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of a shoulder. I turned my head, something registered and I said, "S'up, King?"

This made him laugh, and we exchanged a few words before I got off on the ninth floor and they continued upward, presumably into the unmarked and unreachable realms the Four Seasons reserves for those who transcend mere celebrity.

Obviously you can't pretend to know anyone from a few minutes in a elevator, but I'll admit that my brief proximity with James colors the way I feel about him. I am not often sentimental about athletes or other famous people; I attribute to them no virtues beyond whatever gifts they may have demonstrated. But having verified James' humanity, I like him a little better than I might otherwise. His riches and his talents may insulate him from the sort of reality you and I know. He might have indeed been warped by the massive gravity of his early-onset renown. But he is not just a construct, a creature that lives in arenas and on screens, but a finite and fallible person.

James proved this 22 months later when he announced his decision to leave his hometown Cleveland Cavaliers and join Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh on the Miami Heat. It wasn't that James left, it was how he left, in a self-aggrandizing "decision" (orchestrated at least to some degree by ESPN) that broke the heart of Northwest Ohio. Cleveland fans, stung and bitter, burned his jersey. The owner of the Cavaliers posted a reckless diatribe mocking James on the team's website.

James compounded the bad feelings with an ill-advised welcoming ceremony in Miami in which he appeared with Wade and Bosh and famously promised to deliver ("not one, not two, not three . . .") a multitude of championships to his glamorous new city. They ended up with two in four years, and now James has opted out of his contract and re-signed with the Cavaliers. The kingdom is restored. The Cavs look to be an up-and-coming team, with a budding superstar point guard and the No. 1 pick in this year's draft (who might yet be traded for another proven star).

Chastened, James has said he wants to win a championship for Cleveland--a city that hasn't seen much sports success since the days of Otto Graham. He says he understands how hard it will be, that he'll do his best, but he's not promising anything.

It is, as the media has spun it, a heartwarming story. And it is also hokum.

I don't doubt James sincerely wanted to return to Ohio. He grew up there, he feels comfortable there, and--except for the spasm of ugliness that followed his flight to Miami--the fans have treated him very well there. Apparently he can move about somewhat freely in his Akron neighborhood, he can ride his bike, he can take his family out to dinner.

But he didn't write the letter that appeared under his name on the Sports Illustrated website. And I don't know that the gracefully written piece actually captured his inchoate feelings. (Though it did give credence to the theory that James had long ago decided to return to Cleveland.)

You could fairly argue that a lot of the machinations that occurred during James' free-agency period were designed to demonstrate his power, maximize his earnings and grow his global brand. For a couple of weeks, LeBron James held the NBA in thrall, commanded the attention of a nation, teased some franchises and enticed Miami Heat president Pat Riley to Las Vegas on a fool's mission. I don't sense any humility in the scenario (and I don't think James owes us "humility"); what I see is a carefully crafted and well-executed attempt to seize and control the narrative. The return to Cleveland is a brilliant business move (one that's great for the NBA as well as the Cavaliers and James). It's a case study in legacy building.

And by signing a short-term deal with Cleveland, James has leveraged an incredible amount of influence over management. If they don't do what he wants them to do, he can opt out again. Plus James knows his market value is much higher than his collective bargaining agreement-depressed salary reflects. When the NBA negotiates new television rights in two years, James wants to be able to reap the benefits of an anticipated increased salary cap.

Or maybe force the removal of the socialist salary cap. I've heard smart people say James is worth $75 million a year to an NBA franchise. James would probably settle for $50 million. I hope he gets it.

But even if James' return to Cleveland is 80 or 90 percent a calculated business move, it's still a great thing. I'm not sure he is the greatest basketball player in the history of the sport--I don't know how you compare James to Oscar Robertson or Wilt Chamberlain or Elgin Baylor or even Michael Jordan. But I'm not sure he isn't either. And I know that one of the arguments submitted by those who insist Jordan is the greatest of all time is his six NBA championships.

Jordan won all his rings as a member of the Chicago Bulls, the team that drafted him out of college. James left Cleveland in the first place to team up with better players and chase a championship, which is something Jordan would never have done. (Jordan didn't have to--he had Scottie Pippen and Horace Grant, and then Dennis Rodman.)

James' abandoning Cleveland for Miami could be interpreted as his buying into this "winning above all" theory. Cleveland couldn't provide him with a good enough supporting cast, so he took matters into his own hands to chase Jordan. (And I guess all those old Celtics with all their hardware.)

But now, it's as though he's rejected that line of thinking. It's unlikely Cleveland will win a championship next year (though Las Vegas has pegged it as a 4-to-1 favorite to win, and those guys don't often miss). James probably won't match Jordan's or Kobe Bryant's titles. That doesn't make him less of a player.

This is what I like most about James' return to Cleveland: Finally, someone has acknowledged that great athletes aren't defined by the number of championships they win. Tiger Woods might not be as good a role model as Jack Nicklaus, but he's every bit as good a golfer. (I'd say better, and I've watched them both with roughly equal intensity. Sentimentally, Nicklaus might have an edge. After all, he was the best when I was 12 years old.). Woods probably won't get to 18 major championships, but that hardly seems relevant.

It's not always the outcome that matters. Sometimes it's the process that's most important. Sometimes it really is about how you play the game.

pmartin@arkansasonline.com

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Editorial on 07/20/2014

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