Greatness looks at life through one lens.
It is never blurry. It always sees things through a greatness-colored veil. It has blinders. Greatness knows what greatness looks like when it sees it; there are no distractions or mistakes. Greatness is always right, pretenders are weeded out every. single. time.
This is where we find LeBron James.
In today’s NBA, James has always been the biggest, baddest thing we’ve ever seen. The 6-9 forward weighing 250 pounds but running the court like Usain Bolt and jumping like his legs were actually pogo sticks. The sheer impressiveness of his stature, the otherworldly athleticism for his size, has never been debatable.
But his greatness has.
Until Thursday night.
Sports Illustrated covers, thrones in commercials, “Chosen1” tattoos and a nickname of “King” demand a higher standard of excellence — the highest standard. The spoils of greatness first come wrapped in a box of expectations that of course are ridiculous by nature. But then, the best of the best have never had trouble living up to the most ludicrous of standards.
Players don’t get to just say they’re great. Fans don’t just get to say a player’s great because he scores a lot of points, grabs a lot of rebounds, shows up in the latest music videos or has the hottest shoes on the market. Yet that’s where we were at the start of these NBA Finals, in a place where the apologists were whining — “Get off LeBron’s back,” they would say. “Stop criticizing him, can’t you see he’s great?”
At some point between Michael Jordan and LeBron James the stats had suddenly become enough. Highlights trumped championships. Dunks and 3-pointers and chase-down blocks became the measuring stick.
But in reality, until James stood on the American Airlines Arena court Thursday night, showered with praise, smiling the widest smile and hugging the championship trophy, how were his career accomplishments that much different from Charles Barkley or Karl Malone or John Stockton any other all-time talent that never won an NBA title? Answer: They weren’t.
Even through the most vehement of denials, winning has always mattered. The highlights that have always made the most indelible impressions were those of champions — Red Auerbach smoking the cigar, Magic Johnson’s 42/15/7 game to win the 1980 NBA Finals, Kevin Garnett rearing back and yelling “ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE,” Jordan crying as he held the Larry O’Brien trophy.
It was about Game 6 in the Heat’s series against the Celtics that it became obvious LeBron finally understood. What was once the weight of the world coming down on him became a clarity of who he was, why he was there and what he needed to do. Instantly, the excuses stopped and his play became legendary. Miami was going to win the NBA title and he was going be the reason why. He’d finally graduated from satisfied to hungry, from just another productive player to, now, a champion.
Great players look at other great athletes through one lens. An uncompromising one.
When they see it, the newest member is welcomed with open arms. It is the rarest of clubs. Egos are swept aside. Hierarchies are formed and others are acknowledged — Larry Bird tips his cap to Magic Johnson; Magic to Kobe Bryant; Kobe to Tim Duncan; and all to Michael Jordan.
And now, LeBron.
“I think he’s the best player in the league,” gushed Johnson to media on a conference call. He paused to add emphasis to what we all know without a shadow of a doubt is true now.
“In the world.”
Christopher Dempsey: 303-954-1279 or cdempsey@denverpost.com
