Why I Feel Sorry for LeBron James

Imagine living a life of perpetual fast-breaks, always turning your head to see who’s chasing you, who wants something from you and why—which is why I say let the kid enjoy his final high school basketball season.

[Published in the Harrisburg Patriot-News on February 19th, 2003. Note: This piece was published when LeBron James was a high school student.  The text has not been altered.]

In the beginning of The Great Gatsby, that great American novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald, the main character reflects on some advice his father gave him when he was a kid: “Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, just remember that all people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

This is pretty sound advice, but it’s based on two assumptions. One—that you’ve grown up with some advantages in the first place, and Two—that you’ve had a dad around in your formative years capable of giving you advice to mull over for the rest of your life.

For these two reasons I may be the only person in the world to feel sorry for LeBron James, the high school senior basketball phenom from Akron, Ohio, who is a few jump shots away from a gazillion dollars and free shoes for life. He may be ready for the NBA, but I’m not sure that he’s ready for what preys on superstar athletes, especially from disadvantaged backgrounds, as they make their transition to the Big Time.

LeBron will grace our high school stage for at least another month, thanks to a recent court order filed to block the Ohio High School Athletic Association suspension. Soon it’s on to the NBA and riches beyond most folks’ wildest dreams. LeBron may have to trade his Hummer in for a Bentley.

LeBron has never had a relationship with his biological father who has been in and out of prison (for arson and theft) his son’s entire life. As for his self-proclaimed surrogate father, one Eddie Jackson (another ex-con), it should be no surprise that his affections for LeBron’s mother resurfaced about the same time LeBron starting turning heads on the AAU circuit back in middle school.

Last year Jackson gave LeBron a ’95 Ford Explorer and silenced the critics with a curt explanation, which might have come from the mouth of a Nike or Adidas rep, if it weren’t so candid: “Absolutely I gave him the car. When you got a kid that’s a 3.0 student and dominating the country in basketball, you get him whatever the hell he wants.”

Here is the golden calf of sport, a promise put to words, the American Dream expressed by an ex-con.

LeBron will join Koby and Jordan and the constellation of basketball greats, dazzling us with his athleticism for years—if you believe the hype, or he will crack under the great pressure the press and his own promise have thrust upon him. Either way, there is sadness chasing at his heels like a ferocious wide-eyed guard.

Few consider the downside of the American dream: too many of our kids are too eager to go from rags to riches, from LeBron James to King James, up from Akron and into Playstation. Who wouldn’t covet the opportunity to play a sport in front of people eager to make you filthy rich?

But LeBron’s high school friends think they’re going along for the ride and they will be the first casualty. One of his teammates recently told a writer from ESPN: The Magazine: “He says he’s gonna get us cars after the NBA draft. Tells us whatever kind of truck we want we can get.” I don’t doubt the sincerity of LeBron’s posse nor do I doubt LeBron’s promise. But how long can such naivete last?

Already, the shot clock is running out. LeBron says he knows at least two players on each NBA team already—says he even has, well, had Jordan’s cell phone number until one of his high school teammates filched the number and called the legend, causing Jordan to switch numbers, or phones, or do whatever it is that superstars do when they get unsolicited calls.

LeBron already has one foot in the NBA.

“Gatsby turned out all right in the end,” wrote Fitzgerald a few paragraphs before the close of The Great Gatsby. “It is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams. . .”

Imagine living a life of perpetual fast-breaks, always turning your head to see who’s chasing you, who wants something from you and why. After this high school basketball season is over, LeBron may never know the meaning of unconditional friendship again. He will appear in public, but Nike or Adidas will tell him what to wear. His posse will be waiting in the wings, this time on the payroll. He will have a fleet of vehicles and a cadre of expensive lawyers to sort out the past and prep for the future.

You know it and I know it. But LeBron James will have to find out the hard way, which is why I say let the kid enjoy his final high school basketball season.

Mark Franek is the dean of Students at the William Penn Charter School. He also teaches English.

[Postscript: LeBron James has become the real-deal in the NBA and has kept his head above the fray.  He is the noble exemplar. Thus far has kept his integrity and many of his friends intact. Bravo!]

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