For my prurient readers (i.e. Mom), this has nothing to do with rough sex in conjunction with the wonderful William Friedkin flick Cruising. My apologies. Looking back over my knockabout thirty-two years, the only act of rough sex in which I've been a participant that comes close to linking up with a Friedkin movie is the time I was raped by Tree Rollins. (The great thing about this joke, aside from the fetching visual of myself bent over a rack of basketballs getting sodomized by one of the greatest shot blockers in NBA history, is that less than 1% of you a) have seen The Guardian, and b) watched Tree Rollins in his prime, so the full impact of whatever it is I've just done will most likely be lost on you. Also, as a means of clarification, I don't think Tree Rollins ever really had a prime in the traditional sense; he was a slow, physical backup center when he entered the league, and a slow, physical backup center when he finally retired at the age of eighty-seven. But, oh, what a run!)
No, the "cruising", in this case, is in reference to this troubling quote from LeBron James after last night's overtime victory in Orlando:
"I can cruise," he said with a smile. "I don't have to pressure myself to go out there and score when I've got guys like Donyell, Larry and Z."
He's right about one thing: he can cruise. He's proved that in each of the Cavaliers' first seven games in which he's jogged tentatively up-and-down the court looking for purpose or, simply, a place in Mike Brown's offensive and defensive schemes. He's getting his points, but that's the easiest part of his game; what he's not getting much of are rebounds and assists, leaving those of us who've gleefully spoke of a triple-double average somewhere down the line a bit doubtful of those Oscar Robertson-esque prospects. His confidence is gone. As of right now, the self-anointed "Chosen One" is looking a lot like an unwilling draftee.
Until today, I'd assumed he wasn't happy about this. I figured the fact that he hasn't been the go-to guy for the big basket would be eating at him, and that his all-around game would blossom anew once he figured out how to do his thing in the kinds of offensive schemes he would've learned in college and should've learned his first two years in the league had the organization hired a true x's-and-o's coach.
Unfortunately, his suddenly reduced role in the Cavaliers' half-court offense sounds like it suits him just fine. This certainly explains the alarming erosion of a commanding seventeen-point lead against the scoring-impaired Magic last night that would've resulted in a loss had Donyell Marshall not knocked down a three at the end of regulation. That the overtime period was dominated by the same two guys -- Larry Hughes and Z -- who were incapable of holding down the lead while LeBron watched on passively as an on-the-court spectator for the entire fourth quarter shouldn't be viewed as a positive. Had LeBron exerted his will, attacked the basket, and found more ways to get his teammates wide-open looks, he could've kicked back and watched the last five minutes at courtside rather than on the floor.
The conventional wisdom maintains that it will probably take until January for this team to gel, which is acceptable though not terribly comforting seeing as how every single team in the Central Division is a threat to win fifty games. The Cavs' great fortune is that they only have six games against their division rivals before the new year, three of which come in rapid succession at the tail end of December. But even though it's ridiculously early in the season, LeBron couldn't have picked a worse time to cruise. He should be busting his ass, putting that high basketball IQ to work and figuring out a way to get the system, and his teammates, to adapt to his breathtakingly brilliant style of play. Right now, they're just learning to play with a loafer. This way dissension lies.
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