There's Always This Year by Hanif Abdurraqib

Author:Hanif Abdurraqib [Abdurraqib, Hanif]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2024-03-26T00:00:00+00:00

10:50

When LeBron James and the Miami Heat lost in the 2014 NBA Finals, most of my pals were ecstatic. Not just that they lost, but the manner in which they lost: 4–1, in a series that was never especially close. No one around me gave a shit about the San Antonio Spurs, the team responsible for the dispatching of LeBron and the Heat this time around. The Spurs were, at least to me and my crew, a boring squad. A squad devoid of star power and flair. But in the Finals, they were the team we were drawn to, because they were the team that could keep LeBron from the immortality of the three-peat. Keep him from winning three titles in a row, which is the number that means something. The first in 2012 could be minimized, washed away on an ocean of excuses. (“They were playing a young team! No experience! They should have won that! It doesn’t count.”) The second, in 2013, was hard-earned against the Spurs, and even the most cynical or vengeful among my crew had to tip a hat. But three in a row would be unforgivable, and so in the summer of 2014 there were Spurs fans throughout Ohio, adorned in Cavs jerseys.

Miami’s collapse in the 2014 Finals didn’t even have the courtesy to be spectacular. There was no dramatic flameout, not much rage spilling over into arguments on the bench. Just a team that looked entirely exhausted, seeking a quick end to an exhausting era.

This took some of the satisfaction away from those of us who were watching, hoping for LeBron James to be humbled in a very specific manner. It is one thing to lose by way of simply seeming to surrender and another to lose after pouring all of yourself into the game, only to be outdone by someone better. The Spurs were better, sure, but not at a level that reflected the outcome of the series. By Game 3, it was clear that the Heat just didn’t want to be there and were content with letting themselves be run over. LeBron still got his, to be sure. Even in the blowouts of the final three games, he got his. But it was never going to be enough to overcome the broader flaws of the team, their lack of depth when compared to the Spurs, the obvious exhaustion that they were feeling toward each other, toward the game.

I can’t say why it was satisfying, looking back. LeBron James had already achieved what he’d left Ohio for. What was whispering underneath The Decision—the neatly arranged television special, the button-up shirt, and the prolonged, droning, ten-minute interview before the reveal—was a far simpler reality: LeBron was leaving the Cavs because he wanted to win, and he didn’t feel like he could win in Cleveland. Championships are how legacies are built and how they’re measured, and you have to find your way to them however you can. It wasn’t going to happen in this place.

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