A clear and present danger exists among sports media, an inevitable vortex of sorts that consumes the young and veterans alike, gathering them up like houses and cows in a tornado. This is the danger of the "false narrative," derived from a minute sample size and extrapolated into a national sensation. We talk about bandwagon fans. There are bandwagon media members, too.
The reason I bring this up: I had planned to write about "The Oscars" and maybe make a movie−related joke or two, but everyone seems to have their headbands in a bunch over LeBron James' performance at Sunday night's NBA All−Star Game. Tied for the game−high with 36 points, James had six rebounds and seven assists in 32 minutes and brought the Eastern Conference back from a 20−point deficit in the surprisingly competitive exhibition game featuring a Kobe Bryant broken nose and abundant Moses−esque sea−parting.
The morning after, Twitter and the Internet — as they are known to do following buzz−worthy events — exploded in a debate over LeBron's clutch−time performance. Buoyed by Yahoo! writer Adrian Wojnarowski's takedown, we began juxtaposing LeBron with Bryant, the former's counterpart both in mentality and finger jewelry.
LeBron was spectacular in the fourth quarter, but disappeared when it mattered, most notably with six seconds left when, with his team down 151−149, he gathered a long rebound at the top of the key and turned it over along with the game.
An exhibition, yes, but nonetheless ample fodder for those who wish to further subject LeBron to scrutiny surrounding his well−documented fourth−quarter meltdowns. And Wojnarowski is not wrong when he writes that moments like these are "what [linger] over the NBA Finals for James. Every great player misses in great moments, every great player fails. But this sport wants to see James' willingness to take the chance."
But to question LeBron's motivation and his desire is to question the fundamentality of the sport's most talented individual. On SportsCenter Monday morning, analyst Tim Legler settled on the conclusion that we just seem to keep returning to: "I think it shows you that he's different than some of those guys. Just the way he thinks is different." He's no Kobe. He's no Wade. He's just a fundamentally different person and we want him to be someone he's not. We pine for the daggers, the silent assassinations, the Black Mamba demeanor. Instead, we get "The Decision," the declaration of seven titles and the perceived arrogance.
The only thing that matters is the false narrative now. If LeBron had hit that shot, would we have praised his performance or denied credence given the night's nature as merely a glorified pickup game? He's easy to hate. That much is certain. Nights like these stoke the flames just a little bit more.
Unless he breaks one of his oak tree−sized legs, James will be the MVP this season. He's averaging 27.4−8.1−6.8. He's shooting 54.7 percent from the field and 41.3 percent from three−point range, both career highs. He's managed to not be a total meathead when it comes to self−awareness.
No matter. Sports are about winning, about what happens at the end. So long as LeBron remains ringless and deferential in the fourth quarter, the narrative — whether you deem it false or not — of James as a clutch−time fader will linger, buoyed by the ammo mustered from whatever LBJ does, in big games or small.
Really, the All−Star Game didn't tell us anything new about LeBron. We already knew that he shies away from the spotlight, or at least that we perceive him as doing so. But it says plenty about our structure as a fan base, about our desire to perpetuate the false narrative. Controversy intrigues. It sells. It dictates our assumptions and our consumption.
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Alex Prewitt is a senior majoring in English and religion. He can be reached on his blog at livefrommudville.blogspot.com or followed on Twitter at @Alex_Prewitt.
