Barnstorming: LeBron James wears the black hat

LeBron James has been the villain before. The origin story for that role began with a poorly considered television special announcing that he was leaving his hometown Cleveland Cavaliers to seek his fortune in South Beach. Both the decision and The Decision chipped away at his carefully constructed persona as a team-first champion of the people. In choosing to help assemble a new cabal of talent he mostly set public opinion against him, even embracing the role as simply being part of the path to a title. That first season in Miami, LeBron and the Heat were disliked and even downright hated in certain places. How that team then gelled seemed to threaten the organizational peace, stability, and competitive balance of the league. LeBron, Wade, and Bosh carried themselves with a cocksure swagger which only added insult to injury.

At the outset of that Miami adventure LeBron was still the NBA’s best player, though he was no longer its favorite son.

But that black hat didn’t fit for long. First the Heat were fed their own overconfidence, piece by piece, by Dirk Nowitzki and his egalitarian brotherhood of castoffs and also-rans. Miami then won two titles in a row, the prizes LeBron set out for in the first place, but they did it by changing everything. LeBron adapted and evolved, efforts that are almost always symbiotic with humility. Slowly, the public perception shifted back into LeBron’s favor as his cockiness quieted. As the ultimate outcome of his quest seemed more in doubt, his efforts became increasingly sympathetic. That final Finals loss to the Spurs humanized his talents, and LeBron’s decision to take his knowledge, experience, and the time he had left back to Cleveland made him a hero once again.

This season and a half in Cleveland has not gone according to plan. It’s not so much the win and loss record as the chaotic atmosphere, both on and off the court. The reinvention of LeBron as Lawful Good Paladin, Defender of Northern Ohio and all its associated Provinces and Municipalities, has been wrapped up in muddiness. The lily white virtuousness he brought home with him has been stained to some degree, which begs the question of exactly where LeBron’s legacy will land.

The performance in last year’s Finals against the Warriors was an unforgettable feat of strength, if not imagination. With an injury-riddled and enormously over-matched roster, LeBron did everything humanly possible to keep his team in the series. And then he did a little more. His usage and time of possession was unprecedented, and he sustained that intensity from the opening tip until the confetti fell. The kinds of numbers he put up, in a vacuum, might be taken as evidence of selfish ball-hoggery. In this scenario, they were one man using everything at his disposal to hold off the conquering hordes. It was almost sacrificial, giving himself up wholly in a hopeless endeavor for even the minute chance that he might be able to save his team.

And yet, that series and that performance stand in stark contrast to many other elements of LeBron as a Cavalier, part deux.

Cleveland just fired David Blatt, the first time in NBA history a head coach was fired while his team was leading its conference. Even if you believe the reports that LeBron was not consulted or involved in the final decision (I’m Fox-Mulder-level skeptical), his preference for Tyronn Lue was well known, and his agency had reportedly been calling for the switch since last season. However the chronology lines up around the final decision, James clearly supports Lue in a way that he never appeared to with Blatt. From a general fan’s perspective, there is perhaps no act of on-court villainy more reviled than a mutiny against the coach. The change may turn out to be a fantastic move for the team’s bottom line, but LeBron will bear the brunt of negative opinion. Overconfident and self-absorbed are easier labels to shake than coach killer.

Blatt is not the only Cleveland relationship that LeBron seems to have played poorly. Kevin Love was supposed to be the final piece of the championship puzzle, but he has been treated much like Mario Chalmers was in Miami — a frequent spectator on offense and a dumping ground for blame and frustration. LeBron is certainly not alone in the way he has dismissed Love, but he hasn’t done much to shield his teammate either. Then there is the style of play. The Sisyphean challenge LeBron assumed in last year’s playoffs was out of necessity, but it has often felt replicated with just cause throughout this regular season. Not so much in the quantity of his contributions, but in the aesthetic, go-it-alone style. All the evolution and implied humility of his tenure with the Heat has been subtly sapped. Playing in the post and working off the ball has mostly been abandoned in favor of a high pick-and-roll attack, offering a high degree of control and not necessarily the most efficient offensive outcomes for the team.

Individually, each piece of this puzzle is mostly meaningless (unless you’re David Blatt). But together they represent an evolving image of LeBron that is shifting away from the heroic homecoming he started with 18 months ago. Again, the degree to which LeBron forced the coaching change is debatable and utterly irrelevant. The perception is that he exerted his own influence to suit his own desires. He has continued to play the way that he prefers, regardless of whether it works best for his talented teammates or their collective best interests. He leads a team that trails the San Antonio Spurs and Golden State Warriors in abstract likeability as least as much as in average point differential and, playful jabbing of J.R. Smith aside, doesn’t seem to be exerting much force of will to bring his teammates together.

Perhaps I’m grasping at straws here. Villainy is a subjective term, and sports villainy is a relatively benign strain. It may not matter at all to LeBron, villains still win rings — Kobe has five of them. The heel turn in Miami was a careless miscalculation that was rectified rather quickly. This feels subtly different, especially for a player who has spent his entire career sculpting a public persona of likability, something seems to be slipping away.