LeBron James vs. Retroactive Amnensia
At some points during the season, LeBron James was not interested in acting like he was the best player on his team (and in the world). He was “Dad LeBron,” corralling his Uncle Drew and Baby Kev into a semblance of chemistry, making sure rebel child J.R. didn’t go full J.R. at any point of the season and overall trying to build some sort of emotional self-confidence in this Cleveland squad. He deferred to teammates, passive-aggressively clap-backed on Twitter following losses and puppet master engineered a slump to get rid of the coach. I guess what I’m saying is we could be forgiven for forgetting that James is basically Captain Planet.
James lives according to what I can only imagine is a Galactus-like regiment. You don’t play 987 regular season and 197 playoff games by age 31 otherwise. You just don’t. I am sure he sleeps in a temperature controlled room (just cold enough for the body to stay enough, but warm enough to lure him into deep sleep), wakes up and eats a planet for breakfast before continuing with a work-out regiment that would make Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson blush with envy. Regimented LeBron is like watching Darth Vader getting assembled for the first time every day. Last night, he reminded us of exactly that.
Sure, we will forever discuss the asterisk that is Draymond Green’s (much deserved) absence. We might even go back to the murmuring debate of Stephen Curry possibly being hurt (I heard that happens to bodies that are not made out of alloy of titanium, steel and the only know non-finctional reserve of adamantium). But at the end of the day, we got LeBron, the devourer of worlds and the crusher of spirits last night and there wasn’t a damn thing GSW could do about it.
This was the kind of game where he literally did everything and posted a ridiculous stat line of 41–16–7, which I think was my Dudley lock combination in high school. He was hitting shots where he needed to, but also eviscerating the Dubs with the kind of vintage, commonplace defensive performance we’ve come to expect from the King in elimination games. If there was anything he couldn’t do, Kyrie sure picked up the slack.
Both LeBron and Irving went off for 41 each in very different circumstances. Kyrie did his part in the “if we lose we blame Kev” scheme of things, reviving iso-ball and cooking the Warriors off the dribble leaving nothing but a trail of shattered ankles in his wake. Sure the criticism that he doesn’t pass enough will always be leveled, but Irving has always been a shoot first offensive guard and he showcased why this game. With LeBron acting as the primary facilitator, the Cavs are more interested in Kyrie burning the twine than trying to find guys like Tristan, Richard or even Kevin somewhere in traffic. Let Uncle Drew do what Uncle Drew does best.
Not playing Love major minutes is also improving Cavs’ defensive scheming. While Love isn’t athletically capable of doing the fundamental things required for a great defender, with Kyrie it’s more of an effort issue. I think, with proper motivation and enough confidence in the help defense, Irving isn’t actually an abysmal defender (if he doesn’t want to be). I’ve advocated that less Love is good for the Cavs and this series has been all the proof I need. Sure, that means LeBron and Kyrie need to put up Looney Toons numbers for another two games on offense, but that’s just the way this Cleveland team is build.
No one knows what will happen in Game 6 when Draymond returns. Will the Dubs run the Cavs of the floor? Will Green finally snap and bite someone’s ear off before hitting them with a chair? Will Steph Curry explode into a shooting star and burn down every basketball net in the 50 mile vicinity of Cleveland? What we do know is for Cleveland to win the title LeBron so desperately needs to bring to his home city they need to get two straight wins, including one more at the Oracle, the unhappiest place on earth for 29 out of 30 NBA teams (it’s like the reverse Disneyland with nut punches). It’s anyone’s guess if they can do it, but while they have this Silver Surfer version of LeBron’s James it’s hard to argue that they can’t.
