LeBron James gave Cleveland Everything — Except What It Needed To Keep Him
Reflections on a complicated four years.
The Cleveland Cavaliers were facing the biggest five minutes of their season, a chance to go up 1–0 on the Golden State Warriors in the NBA Finals and rattle the defending champs. But LeBron James’ mind was elsewhere.
Maybe his thoughts were in the past.
On J.R. Smith, who failed to capitalize on a massive offensive rebound in the closing seconds, opting to dribble the ball out towards midcourt in a tie game. Or on George Hill, who missed the free throw that led to the Smith board. Maybe it was on Ken Mauer, who overturned the offensive foul James drew on Kevin Durant, a call that would have given Cleveland the ball up two with 36.4 seconds left had it stood. Or maybe it was on the 49 points on 19-of-28 shooting that he had posted throughout regulation, and how he now had to deliver an encore in overtime to escape with the win. Maybe he was thinking further back, remembering how hard it was to hang with the Warriors at Oracle Arena over the previous three Finals.
Or maybe he was thinking ahead to the future, foreseeing a third defeat in four years. Maybe he was thinking past that, about how he wanted to get as far away as possible from this mess on July 1, just over a month away.
James’ mind is a tool as powerful as his body. Given how instantaneously he processes hundreds of bits of information on the court, it’s very possible that he thoroughly examined all these recesses of the past and pathways of the future during those two minutes and 14 seconds.
The only thing James did not think about, it would seem, was the present — his dejected teammate two seats away, the dozen others that were standing around, and the regrouping, rallying message that they all desperately waited on their leader to deliver.
Frustration, communication issues and a lack of focus were nothing new for this group. Certainly not for its members who predated the franchise’s latest attempt to bring energy and positivity into the locker room following yet another dark period.
The feelings of despair were one of the many ripple effects of Kevin Durant joining the Warriors. Golden State’s tyrannic reign over the league cast a shadow over every team, but particularly upon the Cavaliers who had beaten the pre-Durant iteration in an epic seven-game series just before the merger.
But Cleveland’s despondent culture existed before Durant’s move, even during the season in which the Cavs ultimately won the title and as far back as early 2014–15, before there was any Warriors dynasty to speak of.
At just 18–14, James’ first year back in Cleveland was not going as planned. At least, not as planned after James’ July 11 decision to return. Just before that, the franchise had committed to a full rebuild by hiring a pair of bright first-timers in general manager David Griffin and head coach David Blatt. However, the James decision and the subsequent Kevin Love trade that the decision was essentially contingent upon brought a sudden sense of win-now urgency.
Although the player option he had negotiated for in the summer of 2015 was considered “strictly a business deal” due to the league’s rising cap, rumors started to circulate that James may look elsewhere if the Cavs did not contend right away. Blatt found himself on the hot seat less than midway into his first season, and Griffin found himself pressured into two more win-now moves. He first sent Dion Waiters and two second-rounders out for J.R. Smith, Iman Shumpert and a first-rounder on January 5, then flipped that first-rounder along with another for Timofey Mozgov on January 7.
James, who was nearing the end of a two-week break to re-invigorate his back, now felt he had the help he needed. That is until the following month, when he not-so-subtly expressed his feelings about Love’s performance to that point:
Such was the up, down and always teetering chemistry that would come to define the next four seasons. Morale was up as the Cavs ripped through the Eastern Conference playoffs, and Irving and Love’s absences from that year’s Finals allowed them to enter 2015–16 optimistically. By January, the 30–11 Cavs had fired Blatt, who James and his camp had resisted since the beginning.
The feelings of despair were one of the many ripple effects of Kevin Durant joining the Warriors. Golden State’s tyrannic reign over the league cast a shadow over every team, but particularly upon the Cavaliers who had beaten the pre-Durant iteration in an epic seven-game series just before the merger.
A month later, Cleveland traded for Channing Frye, a veteran who found it odd how inconsistent the team’s effort and mood was given that they were title contenders. After all, he had only been to the playoffs twice in his 10-year career.
We didn’t know it at the time, but playing in this environment had started to wear on Kyrie Irving. Had the team not gone on to win the championship behind the herculean efforts of both men, the point guard’s eventual trade request would have likely come a year early.
The 2016 title may have enabled Durant’s move to Golden State, but was not what brought doom and gloom to the Cavs.
The root cause of the organization's malaise came from within.
Just as James was central to all of Cleveland’s success over the past four years, he was central to the stress and unease.
James being the most frustrated party made sense. While players like Frye, Smith, Love and Irving could have been satisfied by experiencing team success like never before, James had his thoughts on immortality; he was chasing “Greatest Of All-Time” status.
The expectations he placed on his team were no different than the ones he did on himself, and aversion to satisfaction is strongly correlated to greatness. But the problem in James’ case is not his high expectations of his teammates, but the combining of said expectations with an unwillingness to consider the best ways to help elevate them.
The notion LeBron James makes everyone around him better is a common utterance in the cultural zeitgeist. Given his teams’ annual success — four straight Finals in Miami, four straight in Cleveland and James’ centrality to all of them — how could he not?
No matter how great a player is at something, malleability is a skill.
In reality, it has been more of a mixed bag. For every Boobie Gibson, James Jones, Mario Chalmers, Richard Jefferson and Kyle Korver (players who experienced either career years or late-career spikes next to LeBron), there is a Chris Bosh, Kevin Love, Isaiah Thomas, George Hill and Rodney Hood (guys who performed significantly worse alongside James than they did immediately before or after the partnership).
Notice the pattern?
James is one of the greatest offensive forces in NBA history. He combines the raw power of Karl Malone with the driving ability of Michael Jordan and the passing vision of Magic Johnson. As a result, he can attack the rim and either score or generate open shots for teammates on just about every trip down the court.
When playing with strictly spot-up shooters who have spent their careers spacing the floor, coming off screens and burying catch-and-shoot opportunities, he makes his teammates better.
When he plays with those more accustomed to dribbling, initiating offense and having plays called for them, there tends to be friction. Being a spot-up shooter seems “easier” than this a vacuum, but for guys who have spent their entire lives establishing a rhythm through handling the ball, this sort of relegation leaves them cold, stiff and unengaged. When they are left open and the ball does come to them, the expectation is to knock down the shot. LeBron does all the the heavy lifting, all you have to do is make the easy look.
Whenever a player struggles in this role, they are seen as either underperforming or resistant. They are lampooned by fans and the media, and told to “fit in” by James himself.
Rarely, if ever, has the challenge been leveraged in the other direction; no one dare posit that James adjust his game.
If it seems counterintuitive to ask the greatest drive-and-kick player in NBA history to change, consider the recent discourse on Durant. Despite his status as one of the most unstoppable, efficient isolation players ever, his unwillingness to adjust for the good of Golden State’s system drew heavy criticism.
No matter how great a player is at something, malleability is a skill.
It is one of the few James lacks, though he does not lack the skills to be malleable in theory. He’s a terrific cutter, screen-and-roller, offensive rebounder, and gravitational floor spacer. He may not be an elite catch-and-shoot guy, but defenders are still petrified of leaving him.
He’s not quite Stephen Curry, no. And to the extent that he is not, that’s a relative weakness in his game. James is still the best player in the world, but there is simply immense inherent value to being equally great with and without the ball, as Curry is. It is that equal potency that Golden State’s brilliant offensive structure is built around.
The 2014–2018 Cavs had no such structure. This, despite starting that period off with a coach known for offensive wizardry. Blatt became a European coaching legend due to his motion-heavy scheme that featured multiple ball-handlers and a constant stream of pick-and-rolls, reads and resets. While he was brought in to lead a rebuild, his offense was a terrific conceptual fit for a team with James, Irving and Love.
Getting a group to buy into your system is just as important as having one in the first place, and Blatt’s inability to do so was no doubt a weakness of his own. However, when the team’s best offensive player rejected him from the start, implementing structure became effectively impossible.
In somewhat parallel fashion, the Warriors hired a first-time coach with a sharp offensive mind the same summer that Cleveland did. And while Curry was a staunch supporter of the man Steve Kerr replaced in Mark Jackson, his buy-in from Day 1 allowed Kerr’s offense to take shape.
This is not to say that had James simply been more malleable and open and let Blatt and his eventual replacement Tyronn Lue implement better schemes, the Cavs would have won more than their 2016 title. Injuries hit in 2014–15, Durant changed the power dynamic of the league in 2016–17 and Irving’s trade request derailed any championship aspirations in 2017–18.
To chalk up those latter two issues to bad luck, however, is an oversimplification.
Durant went to Golden State for two primary reasons: The success and culture that had been created around Curry, and the salary cap flexibility which existed due to that same unselfish culture and smart decision making.
It’s hard to blame James for not recruiting Durant, who saw James as a rival throughout his career. Although Curry’s team had just eliminated his Thunder, he saw the point guard less as an adversary and more a potential partner to help topple The King.
As for the salary cap freedom that allowed Durant to join Golden State, however, James played a massive role in making sure the Cavs were afforded no such opportunities, with Durant or otherwise.
Rather than considering slight paycuts to increase his team’s flexibility, James signed a total of three short-term deals during his four years in Cleveland to maximize his salary as the cap increased. Of course, the unspoken benefit of those annual opt-outs was the the previously-discussed power this gave him over personnel decisions, and this went beyond win-now trades.
Rarely, if ever, has the challenge been leveraged in the other direction; no one dare posit that James adjust his game.
Following the 2014–15 season, James made it clear that he would not re-sign with the Cavs until they reached an agreement with his fellow Klutch Sports client Tristan Thompson. The big man ended up landing a five-year, $82 million deal.
The next summer, James again pressured the organization to pony up and pay a guy that he wanted back:
Smith eventually returned on a four-year, $57 million deal.
Again, this isn’t to say that the Cavs could have signed Durant had James taken a paycut and encouraged Thompson and Smith to do the same, a la Draymond Green and Klay Thompson. But one must wonder if the money saved could have at least helped James get the “f**king playmaker” that he asked for mere months after his Smith comments.
The next summer, Cleveland could have landed Paul George, according to ESPN’s Adrian Wojnarowski. However, the franchise did not want to part with the assets Indiana wanted without a long-term commitment from George. In turn, George needed a similar commitment from James, and when James would not give it, neither would he. Fearing losing both players a year later, Cleveland backed out of the deal.
A short time later, it broke that Irving wanted out. There were many reasons given, but his desire to grow as a player and a man were central considerations. Pinning Irving’s decision on James is unfair, but it is also unrealistic to think that James’ domineering presence over everything — from the ball to the scheme to personnel and coaching decisions — was not at least part of what made Irving feel constrained.
But the team did not have to trade Irving, who had two years left under contract. James was set to hit free agency in the summer of 2018, and had he gone through a tumultuous season with a teammate that the organization seemed to be prioritizing over him, his departure seemed all but guaranteed.
So the team dealt Irving for Thomas, Jae Crowder, Ante Zizic and Brooklyn’s first-round pick. Amid early-season turmoil that was worse than ever, James again made it clear that a trade, not a change in leadership style, was the solution. So the team brought in Hood, Hill, Larry Nance and Jordan Clarkson, all of whom struggled to fit in.
As he sat in silence, perhaps James processed all of this. How the constant pressure he put upon the organization led to the jumbled group of players that were circled around him. How his imperious leadership facilitated the departure of the man who hit the title-winning shot in 2016, and how his play style may have contributed to his teammates’ collective inability to hit anything two years later. He might have considered how his roster would be better off had he practiced and encouraged financial sacrifice over selfishness, and how instead he all but forced his team to pay over $14 million a year to the guy who was convinced the Cavs were up, when in fact the game was tied.
Or maybe he blamed all of these things on everyone else. This seems to be the popular opinion. James is the best thing to ever happen to Cleveland and the best player in the world; how can he be blamed for this sorry franchise’s failures?
Ultimately, he can’t. None of the negatives surrounding James can hold a candle to the positives, and none of the potentially-greater success that he has sabotaged would be possible without the heights he brought Cleveland to in the first place. The Cavs were dreadful before they drafted him, dreadful when he left the first time and will now be dreadful again.
LeBron James brought Cleveland its first title in 50 years. Whatever state he is leaving it in, the assumption is that his teammates, the franchise and the people of Northeast Ohio should be grateful.
I understand if that feeling is a bit more complicated.
Follow Simon on Twitter @Simoncgo
