Mark Cuban, the outspoken owner of the Dallas Mavericks, surprised the world with his silence as his franchise quietly made a push towards their first ever championship. The closer the Mavericks got to the finish line, the more he seemed to vanish out of sight. Lucky for him, so did Lebron.
James followed up last summer’s circus act of “The Decision” with a disappearing act during the heart of NBA finals. James did, in fact, bring his talents down to South Beach, but none of them included finishing strong. None of them even sniffed being clutch. Game after game, King James sputtered out when it mattered most, causing the Miami Heat’s season to end much like it began: with mediocrity, struggles, a clear lack of cohesiveness, and questions of whether or not there are enough basketballs on the court for both Lebron and D-Wade.
The Dallas victory over the Heat is significant for a number of reasons. First, the Mavericks exacted revenge on the Heat for the defeat they in the 2005-06 finals. Second, future Hall of Famers Dirk and Jason Kidd vindicate themselves, and escape the inevitable criticism they would have faced for never winning it all, had they not prevailed. But the most important piece of the puzzle is who they won it against. The Miami Heat were built to beat anyone because of, veteran team like Dallas. But they didn’t.
Last year when Lebron James turned in his disinterested, lethargic performance in game 5 of the Celtics series, it sent an early signal to many that the “decision” had already been made. Such a passive, uninspired game by the most electric player on the planet could only mean one thing— Lebron was waving goodbye to Cleveland. In just a single game, the cheers of Witness slowly changed into whispers of Quitness. Can you imagine what the whispers down in Miami sound like?
The crux of the controversy over whether Lebron should stay in Cleveland was based on the fact that, if he delivered one championship in Cleveland, it would be more meaningful than four in Miami. That, in essesnce, winning more outside of Cleveland might actually tarnish his legacy. But Lebron has discovered another way to tarnish his legacy, and we shouldn’t be surprised with his dissappreaing act, because we’ve seen it before. Shame on us for being fooled by the highlight reels filled with monstrous dunks. When it comes to crunch time—legacy time—the King plays just like every other Jester in the court.
In the end, the off-season manufacturing of the Miami heat provided us much more than just a team for the masses to root against. It taught us that taking the short-cut doesn’t always equate to the short-EST-cut. It taught us that coaching might play a larger role than many think. Just ask Doc Rivers, who successfully took his own version of the Big 3 in Boston and won a title. It taught us that holding pre-season championship celebrations filled with fireworks and confetti don’t necessarily end with winning one. It taught us that 13-year vets who remain loyal to a city still have a chance. Dirk’s gritty performance throughout the entire playoffs taught us that he is anything but soft. You can say he has a soft touch, or you can tell me he is soft spoken, but after watching him from start to finish, there is no way you can call him soft. It taught us that Lebrons’ game 5 antics against the Celtics last year wasn’t as scripted as we thought, and that mentioning him in the same discussion as Jordan is borderline silly.
When Lebron was asked about his critics in his post-game interview he commented, “At the end of the day, all the people that was rooting on me to fail, they gotta wake up tomorrow and have the same life they had before they woke up today. They got the same personal problems they had today…They gotta get back to the real world at some point.”
I hope he realizes that getting back to the real world is much easier for the rest of us knowing that one of his own personal problems still looms—the King still doesn’t have a ring.
Lebron made the decision to cast aside Cleveland because he realized he couldn’t do it on his own. Dirk stuck it out with Dallas for 13 years because he believed he could. Sunday night, the 7-footer took his talents down to South Beach and proved it can still be done the old fashioned way. Were you a witness?
