The Miami Heat have committed the ultimate sin, one far worse than LeBron James' egregious "Decision" or the team's 87−86 loss to the Chicago Bulls on Sunday. I'm talking about something that reveals the Heat's true character, a despicable action that has no place in the manly world of professional sports.
Alert the church elders and release the hounds, because the Miami Heat cried. I'll wait for you to clean up the beverage you just spat all over the newspaper or your computer screen in response to this unbelievable fact. All set? Let's proceed.
It all started with a tweet from ESPN's Brian Windhorst that reported postgame comments from Heat coach Erik Spoelstra. Not long after, a few players were found crying in the locker room following the loss to the Bulls — a loss which completed Chicago's season sweep of Miami and moved Derrick Rose and company into second place in the Eastern Conference while pushing the Heat down to 4−6 in their past 10 games and four games back of the Boston Celtics.
With this most recent incident, the league's supposedly greatest trio has effectively cried its way into even less sympathy than it had before. The reaction has been swift. Every demeaning comparison has been thrown at the Heat over the past 24 hours. They're sissies. They're weaklings. They're the slang term for female genitalia. The tear−framed ledes are out in full force, as are the apocalyptic predictions for Spoelstra's now−inevitable firing and the colossal collapse of the Bosh−James−Wade dynasty.
At this point, crying is probably the worst thing the Heat could have done, especially given that they're already hated by the collective masses outside of South Beach. Because in sports, tearing up is the emotional equivalent of lying down on the court and quitting. To NBA fans, it symbolizes futility and femininity, which has no part in a manly game like basketball, a sport filled with high−flying dunks and muscular idols decorated with Chinese tattoos.
Within sports culture, for whatever reason, it's far more socially acceptable to knock over a Gatorade cooler or punch a dugout wall in fury than express a similar emotion in a more tearful manner. Sure, you may break your hand or embarrass your team, but at least you're being angry "like a man."
Interestingly, we tend to accept — even praise — joyful tears, especially when they're connected to winning. Crying and success are synonymous, yet crying and losing are antagonistic.
When frustration emerges, as is likely the case in Miami in this tumultuous stretch, it usually occurs in either anger or sadness. The former represents manliness, the latter softness. This anecdote is now the weapon with which critics will mercilessly whip the Heat whenever similar meltdowns occur. "HELL NO. Why? Do better. This ain't little league," Charles Oakley tweeted. Even Amar'e Stoudemire and Carmelo Anthony, fellow league stars, laughed at the notion of someone actually crying in a locker room.
Whoever — Chris Bosh? LeBron James? Dexter Pittman? — was the culprit, he surely wasn't the first NBA player to cry in the locker room. But this is different. This is the Miami Heat, the team that entered the season with lofty expectations for winning and even loftier expectations for keeping its emotions in check.
Is crying really anything more than mental pain, something every athlete has experienced? Can we really condemn the Heat for succumbing to what longtime NBA personal trainer David Thorpe called "a natural human reaction to pain"?
I guess we couldn't have expected anything less from a team led by an overgrown man−child. But to extrapolate this as a metaphor for the Heat's weakness? That's a little sad.
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