Recession? What recession?
July 4 may have been Independence Day in America, but the real independence day for professional basketball players came on July 8, the first day NBA free agents could sign new contracts.
And man, did they get paid.
Carlos Boozer bid adios to Utah for (my kind of town) Chicago, reportedly raking in $75 million over five years. Amar’e Stoudamire hightailed it out of the Phoenix desert to the Big Apple for a cool $100 million. Not to be outdone, the Miami Heat lured All-Star forward Chris Bosh from the Toronto Raptors for $110 million and a nightclub to be named later.
But the true brass ring on Dialing for Dollars Day, hoops messiah LeBron James, did something unprecedented, changing the course of free agency forever—and not for the better. That evening, ESPN, a network heavy on the entertainment part of “sports entertainment” since being acquired by Disney, aired a live one-hour television special—“The Decision”—in which James announced which city would be privileged enough to claim him as its own, at least until something better comes along.
The special amounted to a paid commercial in prime time disguised as a legitimate interview, funded by James’ marketing team and televised from, of all places, a Boys and Girls Club in Greenwich, Conn. ESPN called it the LeBron-Athon, but the special received backlash from a wide swath of the sporting press who described it in slightly less glowing terms. The New York Times called it the Ego-a-thon. The Washington Post said it “took the cake for staged journalism.”
NPR writer Linda Holmes, figuring the announcement would take all of 15 seconds, brainstormed ways James could fill the rest of the time. Her suggestions included performing “Singin’ in the Rain” while dancing through piles of money, eating a three-layer cake and twice-baked potato for a “gustatory triple-double,” and listening to his favorite beach books for 2010.
In the days leading up to the spectacle, James kept fans updated on his choice via Twitter. On July 6, he sent his long-awaited first tweet: “Hello World, the Real King James is in the Building ‘Finally.’ My Brother gas’d me up to jump on board so I’m here. Haaaa.” How poignant.
By the following evening, James had more than 300,000 followers. #KingJames beat out Twitter’s officially promoted trend and anything related to the Gulf oil spill or the World Cup. In signing up, James joined more than 200 NBA players already on Twitter, and seemingly all of them had something to say about what James might do.
By afternoon of decision day, the Internet was abuzz with rumors he was “leaning” toward Miami, or maybe New York, or, no, I’m sure it’s Chicago.
Jared Dudley of the Phoenix Suns sounded like a young Dan Rather with the scoop of the century:
“Breaking News!!! My sources tell me Lebron will announce that he will be goin to the NY KNICKS tomorrow on ESPN.. This is serious.. WOW!!!!”
However, he seemed to backtrack just hours later: “That’s what I’m hearing.. I don’t care where he goes lol.. I personally thought he would stay in Cleveland..”
Even NFL players like Cincinnati Bengals wide receiver Chad Ochocinco couldn’t resist getting into the act: “*Empire State of Mind* *wink* *wink* only the smart folk will put this together and figure out what i am talking about #6”
It all seemed silly, until the New England Sports Network, a supposedly reputable cable sports institution on the East Coast, carried the following headline (I’m not making this up): “Jared Dudley, Chad Ochocinco Announce LeBron James to sign with Knicks.”
Twitter sources? Seriously? Has it come to this?
In the end, “South Beach” (as James called Miami) ended up with the top prize, much to the chagrin of Cleveland Cavaliers fans who instantly saw their team time-warp back to the Danny Ferry days of competitive basketball.
The Cavs faithful were incensed, and rightly so—more so for what James didn’t say than what he did say. Through the entirety of the special, James didn’t mention the Cleveland fans, he didn’t thank them or the Cavs ownership, and he didn’t let anyone know how grateful he was to have made so, so much money for throwing a ball through a ring.
So at the same time Oakland was rioting for Oscar Grant, a young black man shot in the back and killed at a train station by a BART officer, Clevelanders were burning No. 23
jerseys in the streets.
The next day, like jilted lovers left in the dust, the New York Daily News carried the headline “WHO CARES!” while the front page of the Cleveland Plain Dealer bitterly concluded “Gone. 7 years, $62 million, no rings.”
Cavs owner Dan Gilbert addressed fans in an open letter: “This was announced with a several day, narcissistic, self-promotional build-up culminating with a national TV special of his ‘decision’ unlike anything ever ‘witnessed’ in the history of sports and probably the history of entertainment,” he wrote. “You simply don’t deserve this kind of cowardly betrayal.”
Though he may be biased, Gilbert is right. The real losers of this new form of sports journalism were the fans. I’ve got no qualms with athletes going after what they deserve. Being stuck in a below-market-value contract could mean the difference between that second Ferrari and settling for a Bentley. But the way James came across in his prime-time me-me-me show was like the national equivalent of proposing to your fiancée on the Jumbotron and having her say no—in front of millions, not just thousands of people. It was an embarrassment, and it doesn’t bode well for the future of sport.
In the old days, athletes had a sense of loyalty, a responsibility to the cities and people who took them in and made them into the heroes they were. The legendary Bill Russell spent his whole 13-year career with the Boston Celtics, winning 11 championships. Could he have made more money in New York? Sure. But something tells me he didn’t give it more than a moment’s thought.
“King” James ironically has never been crowned a champion, but I suppose this is what happens when you’re busy manufacturing a global sports mythology. Why let truth get in the way?
More than 7 million people watched “The Decision” on television. In these times of instant communication and behind-the-scenes transparency, fans are not only watching as their heroes sell out and bite the hand that feeds, but they’re also seeing them revel in rubbing our faces in their own inflated views of themselves. After the James debacle, you can’t help but feel just a little more hollow inside when it comes to the people we Americans call our idols, whether you’re a sports fan or not.
But what do I know? I’m just a bum. And that’s my view from the bleachers. m
The Bleacher Bum is always on sale to the highest bidder. He can be contacted at jthomas@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Jul 15-22, 2010.