Embrace the Present and Future, Be Mindful of the Past

Written by Jeremy Sheppard

If basketball fans celebrated a National Hyperbole Month, it would have to be in June. More reputations have been irreparably marred, more legacies have been overly lauded in a handful of Junes than a lifetime of NBA regular seasons. Every year we force our superstars to endure too-early comparisons, and, like we so often do in sports, we compare only in extremes, leaving no middle ground. Suddenly, a player or team that should have a few years left to write its legacy has been cemented as a failure.

Before the Finals began, I wondered how some of the headlines would read once the NBA Champion was crowned, knowing just how much they could be exaggerated. I wrote down a few possibilities just before Game One:

“Dirk solidifies himself among history’s elite.” (Why did we wait so long to admit this? A seven-footer with otherworldly coordination, an MVP, a member of the 50-40-90 Club and career averages of over 23 points and eight rebounds must be one of the best players ever, right? Did he need a title and Finals MVP to make people feel comfortable saying this? Oh, I remember why we didn’t recognize Dirk — despite his accomplishments, he came up short in June ‘06.)

The opposite side of a Mavericks’ victory: “James, Wade and the Heat: The Evil Empire Falls.” (Are they really evil? Maybe they are just three good friends who want to play basketball together.)

Or, we could be force-fed the most egregious violation of our basketball sensibilities: “LeBron secures title, embraces role as Jordan’s ‘Air Apparent’.”

Remember all the way back to two weeks ago when that last one seemed like a real possibility? After LeBron’s Game Five block of Derrick Rose to secure the Eastern Conference title, I could almost see the words printed on the page. Scottie Pippen was ready to concede MJ’s time as the GOAT might soon be over. Despite a large backlash over Pippen’s comments, there were some people who attempted to argue in favor of James.

At the time, James (smartly) flat-out denied this comparison, saying, “I am not better than Michael Jordan.” Maybe he understands that any claim–by anyone–anointing a player as the ‘Air Apparent’ is unfair.

They are unfair to Michael Jordan because the legacy that he left was so vast, and any attempt at comparing him to a player who has yet to completely finish his carer will only disrespect what Jordan did on the court.

They are unfair to LeBron James for the same reasons that they are unfair to anyone else who has been been given the Air Apparent mantle: It’s not so much of a gift, as it is a curse. Being compared to MJ adds a Manute Bol-sized load of pressure to a player.

We’ve been down this road before.

During 1996 pre-draft workouts, Jerry West deemed Kobe Bryant was “destined for greatness.” Twenty months later, the focus of NBC’s All-Star Game coverage centered on the Kobe-Michael matchup. Jordan won the MVP, and Kobe led the West with 18 points. The changing of the guard had begun. Air Apparent talk abounded then as it did during the Eastern Conference Playoffs for James.

That’s too much responsibility for a 19-year-old. It almost feels as if by crowning Kobe as the Next Jordan, we, in a bizarre real-world example of Inception, made Kobe believe that to be the Next Jordan, he had to BE Jordan. His actions, his mannerisms, his (lack of) hair–everything he did began to emulate Michael. Except everything he did, no matter how closely it resembled His Airness, was still lacking in one way or another. Could you blame him? Kobe could no better be an exact copy of Jordan than you could be an exact copy of your mother or father. It is simply impossible.

Next: The Next Who?

There’s something funny about public opinion surrounding NBA stars, especially those who dare to dream of becoming the Next Jordan. Once they have achieved some level of success, they are granted the title “Next.” The Next Jordan, the Next Magic, the Next Kareem. Immediately an opposing cadre of fans flood the sports talk shows and Internet message boards proclaiming just the opposite: “There’s no way he’s the Next Jordan. There will never be another Michael. How dare you compare them?” Sports media outlets, enjoying the controversy they have just strewn up, revel. They increase the scrutiny on that player, examining things that would normally be glanced over. Almost overnight, the Next Player goes from emerging star, to the reincarnation of a living legend, to public enemy.

LeBron faced many of these comparisons early in his career, and he handled them surprisingly well. He averaged almost 20-6-6 his rookie year, and by his second season established himself as a perennial all-star. For the most part, James has resisted connections to Jordan (early on by deferring to teammates in crunch time, more recently by changing his number and repeatedly denying his supremacy before these Finals), and when LeBron yields to Michael, I believe–in James’ mind especially–the two players are different in kind, not degree.

They are so different, in fact, that when LeBron attempted to carve his own path with two of his best friends, we hated him for it. Other than the disdain for turning on Cleveland, the overwhelming response to The Decision was, “Now he’ll never be like Michael.”

For Kobe it was never about shying away from these comparisons, even if he did deny them publicly. When I watch him play, I think Kobe truly believes he has moved beyond Next and into Current status. Actions speak louder than words, and Kobe’s actions on the court seem to be saying, “Remember that move? Michael did it, but I can do it too. Maybe I do it better.”

We told Kobe he had to win championships. He did that. Then we told Kobe that he was riding the coattails of a legendary center and that he would have to establish control of his team as the leader. (Of course, we forgot about his superhuman efforts in those seasons that nearly equalled Shaq’s.) He tried, stumbled, and ultimately failed that task in the 2004 Finals against the Pistons. Following a restructuring of the Lakers’ team, we told Kobe that he had to reign over the rest of the league. Scoring titles, All-NBA teams, and an MVP later, he’d done all that. But it wasn’t enough.

A number lorded over him. Six–Michael Jordan had won six NBA championships. Kobe’s number at the time remained three, and a 39-point loss to end the Finals in 2008 (against the Celtics of all teams!) made it seem like he might never get the chance to double up. When Bryant and the Lakers downed Orlando in 2009, murmurs from a decade earlier began again. Kobe marched passed his friend/brother/rival/enemy Shaquille O’Neal on the list of all-time greats, and after an especially redemptive Finals win over the Celtics in 2010, even Magic Johnson was ready to admit that Kobe had become, at least tied for, the greatest Laker of all-time.

But for every ounce of praise Kobe received, he also got a pound of criticism. “An MVP who shoots 6-for-24 in Game 7?” … “He’s four Finals MVP’s behind Michael.” … “He still doesn’t trust his teammates.”

Kobe’s legacy received a gift when the basketball world turned on LeBron last July. For the first time since before Kobe’s sexual assault case in 2003, he was not the NBA’s boogeyman. In an effort to distance themselves from James, basketball’s old guard championed Kobe for remaining with a single team throughout his career. For at least a few months last summer, Kobe was seen as a player we deemed acceptable to challenge Michael’s legendary status.

All of Bryant’s hard work, stubbornness, snarling, shot-making, and winning had finally paid off and prepared him for ascension to the Mount Rushmore of basketball. We were once again rooting for Bryant, and many of us hoped he would take down the LeBron in the process. But a funny thing happened on the way to the title – the Lakers were dismissed by the Mavericks, and Miami moved on to face Dallas in the championship.

Strange thing about winning: keep doing it, and people will forget why they don’t like you. The Heat were 27-6 dating back to March 10 entering the Finals. There bandwagon was packed full, and sports media was busy jumping the gun, touting LeBron as the Next Jordan, unceremoniously dropping Kobe out of the conversation, as though his 27,000 points, three total MVP awards, and five championship rings didn’t matter. They exchanged all of that for a player without any rings.

When the Heat fell in six games, we continued to force the Jordan label on LeBron, while both his mouth and his game demanded otherwise. We accused him of “shrinking”. We told him his triple-double wasn’t good enough. We effectively said to him: “Become Michael Jordan.” And he got bitter. He got bitter because that’s not who he is, and isn’t who he wants to be. He wants to be LeBron James. We need to let him be LeBron James.

At this time, Michael Jordan is greatest basketball player to have ever lived. However, he is not so great that it should be considered basketball sacrilege to compare another player to him. But to compare a player to Jordan before that player has been given the chance to complete his entire career? That should be blasphemous. We don’t tell every newly minted Ph.D. recipient that they will be failures if they don’t contribute as much to human knowledge as Albert Einstein. Why do we do the same with basketball players?

It was wrong to call Kobe the Next Michael, just as it was wrong to brush him aside for another player. It will be wrong to call someone the Next Kobe or the Next LeBron, and hopefully we will have learned to not do this.

Let’s enjoy Michael for Michael, Kobe for Kobe, LeBron for LeBron, and all the other players for who they are as individuals. Both Bryant and James still have time left to add to their career resumés, but let’s not worry about their historical standing right now. We won’t be treated to these talents forever, and we’ll have time on our hands after their careers are over to decide who among them was the greatest.

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