Our Basketball Jesus — 3 Stars

Watching the LeBron James debacle makes us reconsider everything we once thought about James and the team of advisers surrounding him. In one grand moment, LeBron went from being perceived as a shrewd businessman and sensitive soul to an out of touch mercenary with little regard for his NBA legacy or the fans of the Cleveland Cavaliers.

This is the absolute worst decision he could have made for both his corporate brand and his career as a basketball player. I’m not saying this because I feel like a rejected Bulls fan (even though I do feel like a rejected Bulls fan). In fact, the more I think about it, the only decision that made complete sense for James was to stay in Cleveland, but almost anything other than the Miami scenario would not have killed his reputation in such a surefire way. Had he signed with any other of his final four teams (Bulls, Knicks, Nets, Clippers), Cavalier fans would undoubtedly still be crushed, but they sure as hell would be taking it better than having to watch him join an unholy triumvirate on the sunny and boobalicious shores of South Beach.

If James felt that he had to leave Cleveland, Chicago was the best choice for both his business and his basketball – no true basketball person would disagree with this. With the Bulls’ ability to provide a capable young core, an international city, and still the capacity to make the team singularly his own, the Bulls were three for three in things that matter. The Knicks, Clips, Heat, and Nets could only provide him two of those three things. It’s not rocket science.

Instead, James decided to surround himself with the two other most talented players in free agency and become a villain to NBA fans the likes of which has never been seen. Can you imagine a basketball world where nearly everyone who cares about the game will conceivably (and likely) be cheering for Kobe Bryant next spring? When you have entered a situation in which Kobe Bryant is wearing the white hat, you know you have entered the land of the fucked. The NBA was already facing comparisons to the WWE because of its officiating problems, but the silhouette will now be complete when you see the fervor with which NBA fans will root against their newly acquired heel.

And a pro wrestling heel is exactly what James has become – in the old timey Iron Sheik way even. Just look at the scorched earth letter that Cleveland Caveliers owner Dan Gilbert wrote. Has an NBA owner ever sounded more like Bobby Heenan? It was fantastic and cathartic for basketball fans everywhere. Even Mark Cuban never went that far.

LeBron and his advisers had to anticipate this reaction, which is exactly why his decision to join the Heat was so surprising. In the seven years LeBron has been in the league, much has been written about the entourage that helps him make his decisions. James has enjoyed sparkling, coddling media coverage, and deservedly so. His conduct and business decisions have been nearly flawless (sure, there have been a few minor bumps in the road, but when you consider our modern media landscape, it would be hard to imagine another athlete facing as much scrutiny and coming out looking as good as James did for seven long years). But faced with the biggest decision of his career, James and his team made the one move, the one move that would create serious questions about his NBA legacy. His once golden advisers have moved him into the ultimate no-win situation. If the Heat win titles, fans will say: So what? You mercinaried up at the age of 25. You pulled an old man move when you had the potential to become an immortal legend by bringing a championship to Cleveland. If the Heat don’t win titles? Fuhgettabotit. In fact, not winning titles in Cleveland would have been better for his legacy than winning titles with the Heat. At least he would have become a Quixotic Joan of Arc Sundance Kid that went down in a hail of bullets as he tried desperately to bring a championship to a forgotten city that desperately needed a winner.

In other words, while LeBron James may legitimately be the best basketball player to ever live, he will never be considered as such, not unless Dwayne Wade falls off a cliff. Because even if the Heat win the next six championships in a row, those championships will not belong to LeBron the way Jordan’s championships belong to him or Tim Duncan’s belong to him or Kobe’s last two belong to him. Everybody will understand this, which is why his move to the Heat seems to be such a bad business decision.

But if you look at all this from the right angle, it might end up being sort of awesome for everyone except LeBron (and Wade, Bosh, Pat Riley, and the Heat). In a sense, LeBron’s image has died so the rest of the NBA can live. He is basketball Jesus. Apropos, since his “Witness” brand so crudely played on the biblical implications of the word.

Think about it: with the birth of a new supervillian comes the emergence of fresh superheroes. Could anyone be more perfect to play the role of our white hat, our knight in shining armor, than Kevin Durant? Kevin Durant is Bruce fucking Willis and LeBron James is Hans Gruber. At this point, Durant could walk onto the court next fall with heroin needles sticking out of his arm, snorting coke off a hooker’s ass, and still be the fan favorite. Of course, this won’t happen because Kevin Durant is Kevin Durant, a sweet kid who just signed a five-year extension with Oklahoma City (Oklahoma City! If you think Cleveland is bad…), a kid who has a game that is shaping into one of the most exciting in the league.

And it’s not just Durant. It’s Kobe. It’s the fucking Boston Celtics. It’s Dwight Howard and the Orlando Magic. It’s my own Chicago Bulls. Everyone in the NBA suddenly looks like the good guys. Can you imagine an NBA full of good guys? The other night, as I watched the response pour in over James’ announcement, I never thought it possible to feel such fondness for Joakim Noah. He looked into the camera with that smirk I used to hate and told LeBron, Wade, and company: “Bring it on, motherfuckers” (I’m paraphrasing). Suddenly, his smirk wasn’t so detestable. Suddenly, he was my favorite person in the universe. Suddenly, I was imagining a world in which all those crucial NBA role players might not want to play with the bad guys, but just might prefer to earn more money and saddle up with the likes of Durant, Howard, Rose, Nash, or Dirk.

Suddenly, the NBA was exciting again. Because, let’s face it, a good bad guy makes things more exciting. What is The Dark Knight without the Joker? Suddenly, I hate the Miami Heat more than I’ve hated any team since the New York Knicks of the ’90s. And I loved hating the New York Knicks of the ’90s.

This is not the death of the NBA, as some have suggested; this is the birth of a new type of NBA fan united under one common goal. LeBron James has died so our NBA fandom could live. So go ahead, buy yourself some new NBA gear. Perhaps a bright new blue and orange Oklahoma City Thunder shirt. Perhaps a Carlos Boozer bobblehead. And when the Heat play the Cavs in Cleveland next season, and you enjoy rooting for the Cavs more than you’ve enjoyed rooting for anything in a long, long time, partake in it with pure joy, and do this in remembrance of the fallen King.