Mansfield: Break It To Me Gently, LeBron

Shakespeare’s Othello, in the clutches of deep depression over the state of his relationship with Desdemona, describes himself as “one that loved not wisely, but too well.” Sound familiar? It should, because it describes the collective “us.” We Greater Clevelanders are modern-day Othellos, guilty of loving, adulating and putting on a mile- high pedestal a young man who neither asked for — nor was ready to handle — such worshipping.

We were not wise; in fact we were monumentally foolish for investing in one person … no matter how talented that person might be … such power over our lives, emotions and sense of worth. To willingly and unstintingly give over to someone such authority and ability to so utterly shatter our hopes, dreams and desires is childish in the extreme, and ultimately says more about us than it does him, LeBron James.

When LeBron first came into the NBA I attempted to caution fans (which, by the way, is a shorthand term for “fanatics”) against lifting an 18-year-old man-child to the status of “Regional Savior.” In an article I penned entitled “The Court of King James” I predicted that if we, in our own neediness (and who, on the entire planet, are more needy than us here in Northeast Ohio?) made this young man into some kind of slam- dunking, ball-handling, three-point shooting equivalent of the Second Coming, we were setting ourselves up for future heartbreak. Unfortunately, the future is now here, and the heartbreak happened on July 8 when we got bitch-slapped live, and on national television.

Our schoolgirl-like crush on LeBron got crushed when he didn’t do what 1950s torch singer Brenda Lee begged:

No, he kicked us to the curb like sloppy seconds, like the fawning, simpering followers –bereft of pride or principle — we had allowed ourselves to become. We carried our manhood, womanhood and “fanhood” cheap, and were treated accordingly. Why did he do this to us? Now this is important folks: He did it simply because he didn’t know any better. He’s never had to apologize to anyone once in his entire young life … and he didn’t know how. In our foolishness we made him a “King,” and kings never ask forgiveness or beg forbearance from their “subjects.”

This was his first breakup, the first tough decision of his young life … and he handled it very badly. But again, why? Because he’s a rich 25-year-old with a strong whiff of South Beach partying in his nostrils, and got some really, really bad advice from some inexperienced people who thought they were doing something groundbreaking and very clever with media.

His team bombed, and they just might bomb in South Beach. The party animals down there are world-class and a bunch of country bumpkins from Akron just might wake up one morning standing butt-naked in the middle of Collins Avenue with their pockets picked and a lampshade on their collective head.

A little groveling — no, make that a lot of groveling — would have gone a long, long way in terms of ameliorating the situation. King James should have cried some fake crocodile tears, and profusely thanked the loyal fans that so willingly turned him into royalty. Maybe that would have been enough, who knows?

There’s an Old West story of a hanging judge who so empathized with the criminals he sentenced, so felt their pain (or at least was able to convince them he did), and was so apologetic, that when he handed down the death penalty by hanging, supposedly the condemned man often said, “Thank you, Your Honor, and try not to feel too bad about this, don’t take it so hard.”

But, then again, no matter how well LeBron might have handled it — no matter how well he executed the breakup, it was going to be viewed as treachery of the highest magnitude… A Benedict Arnold move on the order of spitting on the flag, shitting on the Constitution, and wiping his ass with the Declaration of Independence. The way we had set ourselves up for this over the last seven years … there was just no way were we not going to feel jilted, cheated, betrayed and fucked over.

In American Airlines Arena in Miami LeBron will certainly be cheered. But in most other venues around the country he perhaps is going to get booed … and booed in a manner that no player in history has had to endure. He may be branded as a coward and quitter for life … the media can do that to anyone it so chooses. Over the long haul how will that affect him and his game? Who knows? But more importantly, who should care?

Years from now… hundreds or perhaps even thousands … anthropologists will dig through the ruins of our current worldwide civilizations and remark, “In virtually every country they paid their athletes and entertainers more in two months than their teachers earned in their entire lifetimes, and this is what lead to their collapse.” In a country with such deep, systemic, and seemingly intractable needs as ours, in a world beset with conflict, famine and upheaval … to continue our mindless hero worship of someone — anyone — because they can do something amazing with some kind of ball is the moral equivalent of Nero’s fiddling while Rome burned.

From Cool Cleveland correspondent Mansfield B. Frazier mansfieldfATgmail.com. Frazier’s From Behind The Wall: Commentary on Crime, Punishment, Race and the Underclass by a Prison Inmate is available again in hardback. Snag your copy and have it signed by the author by visiting http://www.frombehindthewall.com.

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