Lebron Act Ii

It is a cold Sunday night in March during the NBA's midseason slog, when road games run one into the next and ice bags linger longer on balky knees. At Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland the Cavaliers are hosting the Chicago Bulls and trying to maintain their playoff position while awaiting the return of shooting guard Larry Hughes, who is out for another month because of a fractured finger. With the Cavs losing five of their last six games, the crowds at the Q have grown nervous. They remember the season-ending slide of last year, when the team tumbled from the sixth seed in the Eastern Conference to lottery fodder in a matter of weeks. � The game remains close until midway through the third quarter-or, to put it another way, until LeBron James decides he's had enough. Frustrated all night by the Bulls' banging, the 6'8" James snags a rebound, dribbles the length of the floor and barrels into the lane. Hopping laterally between two defenders, he rises and dunks the ball with ferocious force, his right arm parallel with the basket, providing the momentary illusion that his grasp on the rim is all that's keeping him from sailing up and over the backboard. It's a sequence that transforms even veteran players into squirming, rocking children. Cavaliers guard Damon Jones looks up at the Jumbotron, giggling at the replay in disbelief, while bench players hoot and twirl towels. It is the type of play Cleveland general manager Danny Ferry is referring to when he says of James, "He does things that are-how do I put this?-not normal."

Three seasons into his career, however, the abnormal is the norm for the 21-year-old coronated as King James. He already ranks among the league's premier talents, capable of 40-10-10 games (two and counting) and holder of myriad "youngest ever" designations: to score 50 in a game, to score 6,000 in a career, to be named All-Star Game MVP. And he may well add another at the end of the season-MVP. Not since Michael Jordan in 1991-92 has a player averaged 30 points, six rebounds and six assists in a season, as James was doing at week's end (31.4 points on 48.0% shooting, 7.0 boards, 6.6 assists) in leading his injury-riddled team to the fourth-best record in the East. This weekend the Cavs will make their first playoff appearance since 1998, when Ferry and Shawn Kemp anchored their frontcourt.

James has been putting up impressive numbers since he was drafted No. 1 in 2003. What is more noteworthy on this night is what he does without the ball. He exhorts teammates, calls impromptu huddles, keeps Cleveland on track. During a timeout in the fourth quarter coach Mike Brown begins drawing up a convoluted offensive set-he is renowned for intricate plays with names like Elbow 153 Roll 5C Punch-and works himself into something of an expository corner. As Brown erases and reerases the whiteboard, the players' attention wanders until LeBron looks at Brown and calmly says, "Coach, man, we only got five guys and 24 seconds." His teammates crack up, Brown concedes his point, and Cleveland runs the first element of the play, a dive cut, for a basket.

This is a lesson James says he learned last season, when he failed to speak up as the Cavaliers imploded: When necessary, he must take control. Assistant coach Hank Egan recalls that when 12-year veteran Donyell Marshall wasn't shooting well during one game earlier this year, James walked up and embraced him. "Didn't say anything," Egan says, "just gave him a hug." In the first half of the Bulls game, James took a different approach with the cold-shooting forward. Cleveland ran a pick-and-roll that called for Marshall to pass the ball to center Zydrunas Ilgauskas. In the process, however, Marshall found himself wide open at the top of the key.

"Shoot the ball!" demanded James from the wing.

"But I'm running the play," Marshall countered.

James, adamant, yelled back, "Shoot the f--- ball!"

After the game, which Cleveland won 91-72, Marshall sat at his locker, describing what it's like to play with James. "You feel guilty, but he'll say, 'The next time I pass it to you, shoot it again. If you miss, you miss it. If it's a good shot, then that's your shot-just shoot it again.'" Marshall chuckled as he looked over at James. "It's funny because I'm here to teach him and be the leader, but then there are times when he picks me up. When I was 21, I was the second-youngest player in the NBA and just learning the game. He's 21, and he's the third-leading scorer."

In many respects James stopped being a young man a long time ago, perhaps when the national media first found its way to Akron, superlatives in tow, to gaze at the 15-year-old with the NBA game. It's as if James decided that there was no time for youth and its attendant insecurity and impetuosity and recklessness. Too many supporters are counting on him, from the hopeful (and desperate) people of Cleveland to league executives eagerly riding his international swell to basketball fans thirsting for a team-first superstar. As Brown says of NBA coaches and players, "We all have ownership in LeBron."

It is an intriguing concept, the superstar athlete as IPO or public trust, and one wonders how the young James manages such a responsibility-not to mention the constant scrutiny of his play-with such outward calm. "He doesn't show his frustration," Cleveland guard Eric Snow says. "He just has ways of bottling it." Indeed, James rarely displays concern, let alone emotion, with one notable exception. When he's on the bench, he ritualistically attacks his fingernails, either biting them or, with the aid of a nail clipper (which he summons from a Cavaliers ball boy by reaching with his left hand over his left shoulder), trimming the gnawed edges. In this, at least, James does not seem beyond his years.