CLEVELAND — Four minutes prior to midnight, with an eventual 105-97 defeat assured, LeBron James took his final shot and finally surrendered, subbing out of Game 6 of the final series of the 2015 postseason and strolling toward the court's other side, to shake hands, hug or nod heads with Stephen Curry, Steve Kerr, Alvin Gentry and the others who had withstood his fury and started his misery. He's had plenty of practice, with two prior opponents celebrating a championship on his floor, and again, he wouldn't stay to watch.
He wouldn't be visible again to any outside of his fellow Cavaliers and his closest associates until the locker room doors finally swung open and, even then, just barely. Buried in his corner stall behind security, feet in ice and ice on knees, James, who had just lost his fourth Finals, lifted his fist from his chin only to shake the hand of a teammate or as part of a brief exchange with owner Dan Gilbert.
Technically, it was well into June 17 by the time James, wearing dark sunglasses and a subdued orange hat, finally trudged down the corridor, past the room where the Warriors were yelping while posing with the trophy, to do his solemn duty. To step up to the stage, where everything he would say would be recorded and archived, never to disappear, forever searchable, accessible, citable. This is how it's been for James since before he could vote, starring in his own Truman Show, his emotions and actions viewed and vetted by millions, but never more so than at times like these, following one of his four most uncomfortable losses, the ones that linger with him the longest, the losses that can make him wonder, if only for hours, what all the fighting's for.
There was not anything approaching the exuberance he expressed when he lost in 2007 to the Spurs, when he hadn't lived quite so much, when he hadn't experienced quite as much hurt, when he believed he would be getting chance after chance after chance. He spoke then of being "excited" about the Cavaliers reaching their first NBA Finals, of being "happy with what we have done" against a Spurs side that was simply so much "better."
There was not defiance as in 2011, after he'd linked up with two legitimate stars in Miami, one of which, Dwyane Wade, shared the sadness on the interview stage. After losing to Dallas, he was more defensive, more defiant, weary from eight seasons of unsatisfying finishes, angry about spending the just-completed one wearing the villain's robe. "Sometimes you have it, sometimes you don't," he said, before regrettably remarking that everyone rooting for him to fail would "have to wake up tomorrow and have the same life they had before they woke up today."
There was not discouragement as in 2014, after he'd actually taken that 2011 loss as his own wake-up call, refining his post game, elevating his efficiency, improving his leadership and winning two championships until the Spurs got him again. That press conference was marked mostly by discouragement about being "dominated," a feeling that should have shaken Heat officials more than it did. He put off questions the Heat long considered settled, about when and how he would "deal with my summer," and kept repeating that he plays for his teammates and not for management.
This time, there was just disappointment.
"I lost in the Finals four times," James said in the early morning hours of Wednesday. "I'm almost starting to be like, I'd rather not even make the playoffs than to lose in the Finals. It would hurt a lot (less) if I just didn't make the playoffs and I didn't have a shot at it."
It hurts because he never really believed the Big Lie.
He had to tell it, because he couldn't know how quickly it would all come together. He couldn't know—even if he knew the Cavaliers could and would acquire Kevin Love—that GM David Griffin would be able to upgrade the roster during the season. He couldn't know how long it would take to counter the stability of other competing squads. He couldn't know whether placing too much pressure on young teammates, too soon, would crack them. He had to say, in his Sports Illustrated essay, that he wasn't promising a championship, that he knew "how hard that is to deliver," that his team was "not ready right now," that while he wanted to "win next year," he was "realistic." He had to say that for others, for fans, for teammates, for media.
But do you believe he ever believed it himself?
Do you believe there was anything he thought he couldn't accomplish?
Still?
After he altered his game entirely in these Finals, averaging 32.7 shots and 35.8 points in an obscene 45.7 minutes?
After, during the course of the series, he uncharacteristically declared himself the "best player in the world"?
After he answered this way early Wednesday, when asked if there was any point in this series, without Kevin Love and then Kyrie Irving, that he doubted he could pull it off?
"Yeah, when the numbers went to zero and we lost tonight," said James, who just missed his third triple-double of the series with 32 points, 18 rebounds and nine assists, while missing 20 of 33 shots. "That's when I doubted. That's when it was over. I mean, obviously, I knew it was going to be a tough task, and I continued to tell you guys we were undermanned."
He spoke on that some, more than he typically does, not only referencing Irving and Love but also the season-ending injury to "heartbeat" Anderson Varejao, though the Cavaliers had covered for that well during the season with the acquisition of Timofey Mozgov. He made sure to mention that he couldn't recall a team being as healthy all season as the Warriors had been, which is empirically true but also not the sort of thing he usually says. He spoke, too, of his active teammates' shortcomings, collectively if not individually, stating flatly, if accurately, "We ran out of talent."
But, ultimately, he will bring it back to himself. It's who he is and what he does, because of his belief that he is capable of overcoming anything. That is his existence, even when it's not always agreeable or "enjoyable," as he says this series wasn't, not when he shot 39.8 percent, the third-lowest of his 33 series, just barely better than what he shot in the second round against Chicago.
"Well, I mean, I enjoy the competition," James said. "And whatever it takes throughout the competition I'm fine with. I don't enjoy being as non-efficient as I was. I don't enjoy that. I don't enjoy dribbling the ball for countless seconds on the shot clock and the team looking at me to make a play. We had 14 assists tonight. I had nine of them. I did not enjoy that. That's not winning basketball."
That's not how the Cavaliers played this season when they were at their best, when they were whole, though it should be noted that even in the regular season, only 34.5 percent of his field goals were assisted compared to 41.6 percent last season with the Heat. Entering Tuesday night, only 25.7 percent of his postseason field goals had been assisted, and then only two of 13 were in Game 6. He sacrificed some of his support when he left Miami for Cleveland, not only in terms of surrounding talent but also in terms of system, one that got him moving more often, into emptier spaces and more comfortable places.
But he did not give up his goals.
No matter what he may have said.
It's not just about winning one championship for Cleveland.
Never was. Never will be.
It's about winning as many as he can. As many as many of the other greats. No, he can't come close to the 11 of Bill Russell, who made his regal presence felt while sitting in a wheelchair in the corridor. But he could have been halfway to Michael Jordan, halfway with—if he continues to adjust and evolve—at least one third of his career remaining. Maybe even closer to half, if he defies the odds, as he often does, and plays until 40, as he's suggested he might.
Does he ever question whether the work is worth it?
"Well, of course you question it," James said, "especially when you get to this point. ... But then I lock back in and I start thinking about how fun it is to compete during the playoffs and the first round, the second, and Eastern Conference Finals." Before James pushed himself out of his seat, pulled his shirt down and exited stage right, he added: "If I'm lucky enough to get here again, it will be fun to do it."
The fun will come in aiming to avoid this feeling.
This feeling, which, once again, was anything but.
Stats via Basketball-Reference.com unless otherwise noted.
Ethan Skolnick covers the NBA for Bleacher Report and is a co-host of NBA Sunday Tip, 9-11 a.m. ET on SiriusXM Bleacher Report Radio. Follow him on Twitter, @EthanJSkolnick.
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