Bye, 'Bron: No glory in going segurista

What price an NBA ring, or rings? I have to agree with Reggie Miller's studied opinion that one ring gained by LeBron James while wearing a Cleveland Cavs uniform would have been more significant than three or four with his new team, the Miami Heat. Charles Barkley echoed the evaluation, apart from sharing Miller's disappointment. The consensus among more rational — if a tad sentimental as well — basketball lovers is that James stood to bolster his legacy had he patiently stuck it out with his original team, especially since it also happened to be his hometown team. Okay, make that home state. Oh, yes, both Miller and Barkley never got any rings, despite the former sticking it out with the Indiana Pacers, while Sir Charles went through several teams. One could say they weren't exactly in hallowed positions to render such whimsical judgments. Still and all, there's something to be said for the argument that Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Hakeem Olajuwon, David Robinson, Tim Duncan and other superstar players stayed steadfast in their respective careers, and that their royal loyalty paid off with NBA championships. It would have been more in keeping with the romantic aspects of basketball heroism for today's most gifted athlete in the game to have stayed on in Cleveland, until his team was rewarded with a crown, maybe even two or three. Or given the breaks and a consistently correct complement of teammates, why, maybe even more rings than Jordan. After all, at 25, James still has eight to 10 more playing years at the top of his game. Corollary to the argument is that by joining the Heat, he was being too segurista, believing he'd be assured of multiple rings in the company of two other superstars in Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh. Never mind that they would all have to take pay cuts to fit in, and share the ball and field goal attempts. They can do that, as they've shown as part of Team USA in international competition. What it boiled down to was that LeBron took the easy way out, that he balked at any further display of individual "monster games" in a playoff run, as he'd shown he was capable of with a crew of less individual caliber. Even if these efforts kept falling short of snaring that first ring, the long and short of it was that LeBron James copped out from that challenge. Then there's the second important question: what price loyalty? In LeBron's and Cleveland's case, it becomes doubly curious more than simply rhetorical, since it was his home state he was dumping. Had he been drafted by another city, and failed to get his ring after seven seasons, any transfer as a free agent would've been mitigated by decreased hometown claims. As it is, Clevelanders and Ohioans are understandably chagrined that their darling son actually defected. But it was the manner in which he did it that raised gargantuan gander, touching off angry torching of James jerseys, shoes, and other memorabilia. Indeed, valid are the vituperations being heaped on the former golden boy who could do no wrong as The Chosen One. He was seen not only to have turned his back on the city that nurtured and heaped adulation and unadulterated love on him. That he did so with a public announcement on national TV — in an ill-advised, much-hyped-up special hour on ESPN as six NBA cities held up some hope and fans worldwide keened with bated breath — was crass indeed, utterly insensitive, and betrayed a narcissism gone haywire. The invectives said it all: "classless punk," "asshole," "king of dipshits," "douchebag," etc. Mindlessly, he ripped the heart out of one city on national TV, and many other Americans and citizens of the world knew that whatever legacy he was building up took a big hit. In a word: Witless. That Cavs owner Dan Gilbert couldn't control his bitterness at the "betrayal," quickly sending off a rather childish public rant, in Comic Sans font no less, was unfortunate — as it was also devoid of class, and succeeded only in taking some heat off James' mismanagement of his defection. Now it's argued that that's the kind of city James just had to flee from, as if it made his decision correct, and his ego-driven orchestration of the whole media enchilada untainted. In brief, the "self-proclaimed" King James muffed it. It was a mighty dunk that hit the back rim and bounced out of the building. He'll have to look for his B-ball bragging rights for several years. Most everyone thought, not just Cavs fans, that the way LBJ had set up the circus for "The Decision," he could only publicly announce that he was staying put. No one would humiliate his birthplace in that manner, especially since it had long suffered a sports curse, seemingly until he came as the Messiah. Had he wanted out, a quiet letter would have sufficed, one that should also have expressed his love for Cleveland. The locals would still have been saddened by his departure, but it wouldn't have left such a terrible taste in the mouth, and pain in the collective kazoo. Now, all that is a rational assessment of what has tragically occurred, thanks to a super-duper ego as it points to. But the subjective fall-out is much worse. Personally, I've followed LBJ's career since he made his debut in the NBA at the appropriate age of 18. And the way he handled increasing superstardom, inclusive of his assured articulation at Q&A's, suggested remarkable maturity. He said things right, said all the right things. From man-child to fearsome specimen in his early 20s, he was someone to root for. He carried the hopes of small-market Cleveland squarely on his shoulders. He patiently led the Cavs up the charts as his Jordanaires were built up. All these years I've collected Cavaliers game reports from nba.com in a folder, together with LBJ's photos. The text alone runs up to over 2,000 pages. Idolatry in old age knowing no bounds, I once wrote how I was assured of longevity if only to see my darling LeBron get his multiple rings till he outdid my earlier hero Jordan. Now I'm not sure. Extreme disappointment, then befuddlement, then mild anguish hit me serially since that day of The Decision. How could he have lost all form of circumspection? How could he have even lied when he said he woke up that morning to that decision, when everything now points to a rigmarole after he, Wade and Bosh had met last June to plot out their grand reunion? What happens to all my No. 23 Cavs jerseys and tees? How do I show off my muscles now? Certainly not with a No. 6 Heat uniform, not the one to be worn from November onwards by someone who's even taken to speaking of himself in the third person. Looking back at it now, James started to get undone when he appropriated and polished off that talc-tossing ritual. Then he said he'd join the All-Star Slam Dunk contest, but pulled back. Then he said he'd self-retire No. 23 to honor Jordan, and settle for No. 6 (to dishonor Julius Erving?). Methinks all the self-perpetrated hype, abetted by Nike and hubris, has now run well past a 25-year-old's capacity for discernment. And could ground him for sometime. Oh, seguristas in sports will jump on the Miami bandwagon and expect a younger triumvirate to reprise Boston's moment of triumph. But the Heat will have a target on their backs. All other teams will ache to show 'em up. Much as Gilbert's "take it to the bank" threat that the Cavs will win a championship before "that traitor" sounds so empty with what they have left, I think I'll be hoping he pulls off some great trades soon and make them competitive at least. I still feel for Cleveland and the Cavaliers. Karmic call should indeed banish that darned curse. And fandom shouldn't be equated with blind faith in some individual icon, especially when it comes to a game where it's often said there's no "I" in T-E-A-M. Do I now jeer LeKabron and the Heat and go for any team they're up against? I might, albeit I could turn bipolar if they make it to the NBA Finals against the Lakers. Meanwhile, I guess I'll be looking at Kevin Durant and the Okie Thunder to rescue me from this hole. Make that abyss, thanks to a false king's hubris. - HS, GMANews.TV