I have not come here to praise The King, but rather to bury him.
Kinda. Sorta. In a velvet-gloved kinda way.
This isn’t about the last-second miss. This isn’t even about the second-to-last possession, although that sequence was symptomatic of a bigger problem.
It’s about the first three quarters of seemingly every single meaningful game. It’s about deferring to lesser teammates, lesser basketball players.
It’s one thing to want to get your teammates involved, get them in the flow, get them their shots.
It’s a completely different beast when said teammates can’t hit the broad side of The Q with their nose pressed against it and their collective backs against a wall.
Seemingly since birth, you’ve had the “The Man” label tacked on you, ‘Bron. Right or wrong, that’s what it is. And you’ve embraced it. Globally, locally, nationally.
But wrapping your arms around a hope and a grandiose nickname is not enough.
You can’t simply float and rely and dish through three quarters of an NBA Finals game—check that, three NBA Finals games--with that moniker blending quietly into your “Chosen One” tattoos.
You’ve got to want to be “The Man”, ‘Bron.
Nope, check that.
You’ve got to WANT to be “The Man”.
And you know what?
For the first time tonight, I caught a glimpse of yella in ya. A little scared-around-the-edges look that I can’t quite remember seeing before.
Not exactly deer in the headlights, but definitely some type of wildlife on the side of the interstate thinking “damn, if I try crossing now, I’m road-kill for sure”.
Bottom line? Stop the deferring. Stop it with the “I’m unselfish and wanna get my teammates involved and I’m gonna take over in the fourth, but only after making my fellow basketballers comfortable” routine.
Especially in The Finals.
This is a fine, razor-thin line you’re tightroping on, ‘Bron.
One of your gifts is unselfishness. That, and sometimes unjustifiable trust in those around you.
But, in the end, it could be that very universally-praised trait that keeps you from multiple O’Brien’s.
Yes, this is your first of what could be multiple Finals appearances.
Yes, you are but 22 years of age and only in your fourth year in The Association.
Yes, it took Michael until his seventh and his 28th year on this planet we call “Earth” to get to the point where you are now.
But, unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact that you are the best basketball player every single time you step on the court.
It’s time to stop being Mother Teresa and morph yourself into Gordon Gekko.
Sometimes, greed is indeed good.
Read the complete post at http://theobr.blogspot.com/2007/06/this-ones-on-you-bron.html