If you're a devotee of checking NBA scores, one Tuesday night probably jumped out at you. I speak of the Los Angeles Lakers' 112-57 demolition of the Cleveland Cavaliers, a team now in the midst of an 11-game losing streak and owners of the worst record in the NBA. After losing LeBron James to the Heat last summer, they're not exactly in the best of circumstances.

LeBron apparently doesn't feel much sympathy for his old team in these troublesome times. In the closing minutes of the Cavs game, with the only issue left to determine being whether or not the Lakers would double-up the Cavs, Cleveland's former savior Tweeted about karma, hate, and divine retribution. Here is what he said:

Crazy. Karma is a b****.. Gets you every time. Its not good to wish bad on anybody. God sees everything!

Well, that's not very nice, is it? He basically said that God wants the Cavs to fail as punishment for their poor treatment of LeBron in the wake of his departure. Plus, while LeBron says that it's bad to wish ill on someone, he also seems to be reveling in their failures. Does that mean it's all right to be happy when someone fails as long as you don't wish for it beforehand? Whoever said God works in mysterious ways wasn't kidding.

On the other hand, it's possible to understand LeBron's emotional state here, if not his exact reaction. He gave seven seasons to the Cavs and carried the team close to a championship with, as we're learning this season, a relatively substandard supporting cast. When he left town, Cavs fans and franchise owner Dan Gilbert reacted like he'd murdered a hobo with a velvet voice in cold blood. Obviously he left town under terrible circumstances with the "Decision" debacle, but that doesn't mean he deserved to be treated like a criminal.

Then again, two wrongs don't make a right, as they say. LeBron handled his business Tuesday night like a fool, treating the Cavs like hellbound sinners deserving of whichever terrible fate befalls them. The team, the owner and the staff are still people dealing with some pretty rough professional circumstances right now. It's fine not to feel a ton of sympathy for them, but don't rub their failure in their faces.

James recently said that he's embracing his villain role, but there's a difference between being a compelling bad guy and a jerk. Right now, he's leaning towards the latter.

Or maybe he was talking about something else. Who knows?

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Just like that, The Witness has become The Wimpness, because he is double-dribbling with his tongue.
One moment, LeBron James is saying the NBA needs to "shrink" by contracting teams, and the next, he is saying those evil media folks are twisting his words on the subject.

Whatever, dude.

When it comes to LeBron's original comments, which essentially were that he thought the league actually did need to get rid of some teams to improve the overall competition, he was wrong. He was WAY off base. He wasn't within a couple of fast breaks of reality.

That's because he didn't go far enough.

He should have said all four of the major professional sports leagues in North America need to contract. Then he should have peered into the eyes of everybody in the room with the unspoken look of "Yeah, I said it. So what do you want to do about it?"

The NBA should go from 30 teams to 27, 26 or less. With barely a nudge, for instance, Clipper fans would morph into Laker fans soon after that lesser of the two franchises in Los Angeles didn't exist. And, in contrast to the Colts sneaking out of Baltimore in the middle of the night during a blizzard, the Grizzlies could slow-dance out of Memphis in broad daylight at rush hour without hearing a whimper.

The same goes for the Nets in the Meadowlands, where their turnstiles threaten to rust every season, and where they'll remain the "other" team in the New York City area, even if they relocate to Brooklyn.

Plus, regardless of their place in the standings, the Hawks have resided near the bottom in NBA attendance for decades, which means much of Atlanta would shrug and become more obsessed with Georgia Bulldog football if the Hawks flew out of town.

Elsewhere, in baseball, no matter how prolific the Marlins and the Rays have been at times, most folks around Florida couldn't care less. So get rid of them, or combine them with the Oakland Athletics -- if that struggling franchise also isn't contracted.

Phoenix. Atlanta. Charlotte. Nashville.

Nobody in those warm-weather cities would mourn the loss of their NHL teams after a few months (or days, maybe hours). That should be just the start of contraction for a league that also lacks fans in places beyond those more suited for sunshine than snow.

Oh, and you shouldn't have an NFL team when you're in your sixth consecutive season of covering up 10,000 seats for each of your home games in an attempt to create sellouts.

Hello, Jacksonville Jaguars.

It should be goodbye, Jacksonville Jaguars.

I can dream, can't I?

Unfortunately, the player unions of each of these leagues have become so powerful that contraction won't happen -- at least, not easily. We needn't go further than the ongoing NBA labor negotiations that feature commissioner David Stern suggesting that contraction would help the league's overall financial situation, and it would.

The NBA players union couldn't care less, though, since contraction would trigger the loss of jobs for its members.

So this wasn't surprising: within milliseconds of James saying what he claims he sort of said but really didn't mean to say or was misinterpreted in saying it, he got blasted by his peers.

Thus this ongoing sight of James backpedaling faster than he ever has either on or off a basketball court.
He says now that he doesn't even know what "contraction" means. He says reporters didn't hear exactly what they heard him say last week before a game for his Miami Heat in Phoenix.

This is what they heard LeBron say: "Imagine if you take Kevin Love off Minnesota and add him to another team and you shrink the (league). Looking at some of the teams that aren't great, you take Brook Lopez or you take Devin Harris off these teams that aren't good right now, and you add him to a team that could be really good.

"Not saying let's take New Jersey and let's take Minnesota out of the league. But, hey, you guys are not stupid. I'm not stupid. It would be great for the league."

Yes, it would. And, as LeBron added that day in Phoenix before his backpedaling nearly took him from the Arizona desert to South Beach to somewhere over the Atlantic, "Hopefully, the league can figure out one day where it can go back to the situation of how it was, like in the '80s, where you had three or four All-Stars, you had three or four superstars, three or four Hall of Famers on the same team. The league was great. It
wasn't as watered down as it is (now)."

No, it wasn't, and the Milwaukee Bucks of the 1980s were a microcosm of those times by ranking high among the NBA's all-time greatest teams that nobody ever remembers. They had stars such as Sidney Moncrief, Bob Lanier and Terry Cummings, and they were led by Don Nelson, who won NBA Coach of the Year honors twice during that decade.

In one stretch, those Bucks won their division seven straight years while winning 50 or more games each of those years.

Here was their problem: the Philadelphia 76ers of Dr. J, Moses Malone and Maurice Cheeks, and the Boston Celtics of Larry Bird, Kevin McHale and Robert Parish. As a result, those Bucks never reached the NBA Finals, and they rarely reached the Eastern Conference finals, but they showed how gifted many of those other NBA teams were during the 1980s.

That's all LeBron was saying. Well, before he swore he really didn't say what -- well, you know.
What I'm saying is that, although the NBA's national television ratings are up by 30 percent so far this year, those ratings would soar to levels beyond a combination of vintage Air Jordan leaps if the league sliced either some or all of its franchises that produce yawning.

I'm still dreaming, of course.

This article contributed by Terence Moore of Fanhouse.

Brian Windhorst, Special to The Plain Dealer

Miami, Florida — These days, LeBron James and members of the Miami Heat shake fingers at those who dared suggest that their new mega team wasn’t going to work. The pleasure of hindsight never ends, especially when some important details are dismissed.

One of the reasons the Heat, and James himself, are playing toward their potential after a shaky start is because James is going back to the way he played as a Cavalier.

Wednesday night, the Heat won in Houston to finish off a 15-1 December and became the first team ever to go 10-0 on the road in a calendar month. Their run of success started in Cleveland on what has now become a key date in the NBA season, James’ Dec. 2 return to The Q.

So they’re hot, there’s no doubt. Some of it has been time together, which is the issue Heat players and coach Erik Spoelstra point toward when they shame those who questioned their future after they started the season an underwhelming 9-8. But a huge adjustment, which wasn’t announced, was to get James, who celebrated his 26th birthday on Thursday, back to his roots.

“At the start, we weren’t playing our games,” James said of himself, Chris Bosh and Dwyane Wade. “We were being too unselfish. We had to forget that and go back to being ourselves.”
During the Heat’s ragged November, James’ scoring and shooting numbers plunged while his turnovers shot up to totals not seen since his rookie season. He was throwing wild passes, taking 3-pointers out of the offense, and Spoelstra was playing him at point guard the most since Paul Silas tried it as an experiment in the fall of 2003.

Then something happened in Cleveland. The Heat committed themselves to featuring James for that game, an obvious strategy with James carrying so much personal meaning into the game. Then James went out and played his best game of the season, scoring 38 points.

Part of it was because of some abnormal great shooting, which James has done on the road off and on during most of his career. But the other part was it created a comfort zone for James to play in a familiar role.
Seeing the impact, Spoelstra changed his rotation to allow James six to 10 minutes a game as the featured player. Usually, it happens at the end of the first and third quarters, when James is given the green light. The result: Lots of shots, lots of freedom, lots of scoring.

“It has been a process for both the players and coaches to find a comfort level,” Spoelstra said. “We knew it would take some time but that these players were too talented not to be successful.”

James has used these moments to feed his desire to build his statistics, something he may not admit publicly but it always has been a driver for him, and the Heat seems to benefit from it. In December, by getting his bursts of freedom, James’ scoring average jumped two points a game and his shooting jumped nearly seven percentage points.

He had several games where he squeezed off 10 points or more in his allotted freedom minutes and the Heat usually experienced a surge. On Wednesday night in Houston, for example, the Heat outscored the Rockets, 16-2, when James was on the floor without Bosh and Wade.

In turn, Spoelstra has reduced James’ minutes at point guard by inserting Mario Chalmers into the rotation, allowing James to play more point forward, the position he played in Cleveland. As a result, the turnovers have dropped and the Heat’s offense has gotten stronger.

Wade, who now gets his exclusive scoring time on the floor without James, has seen his scoring average jump six points a game in December over November and his shooting percentage soar nearly 10 percent.
Though he usually plays with Bosh on the floor, the changes allow Wade to play more like he was accustomed to before James arrived.

Whether this dual-star role will work under the pressure of the playoffs remains to be seen. The Heat have had mixed success at the end of games, sometimes barely hanging on to leads with Wade and James on the court together. But they have also been able to carry the Heat to some victories by their individual play.

What seems certain is that finding a balance and putting together wins has come partially by going back to some old ways.

“We’ve all had to sacrifice things from our games to make this work,” James said. “This is why we came together, to be able to play together and win together.”

Former Plain Dealer writer Brian Windhorst is a reporter for ESPN.com, focusing on the Miami Heat.

MIAMI — Will South Florida ever truly love LeBron James?

Not admire or respect or, even in the case of some kids, idolize but love?

Will this area ever love him the way it loves plastic surgeons, early bird specials, gated communities, food courts, the rare on-time nonstop to LaGuardia and cold snaps that offer excuses to show off designer sweaters? Will it ever love him the way it still loves its memories of a slinging Dan Marino? Or even like it loves Dwyane Wade?

Will it ever love him like Cleveland loved him, before Cleveland hated him?

Those were questions that came to mind, even before another night of late-comers and no-show-ers at American Airlines Arena, this one for the visit of James' tattered old team, the Cavaliers.

Those are questions that continue to answer themselves.

It's already clear what James most sacrificed by leaving his home state and taking his talents to South Beach last summer. It wasn't just his image, turning off so many observers around the country. It wasn't just money, though he gave up some of that. It was his unique place, as the most important, beloved, unconditionally-defended figure in a reasonably large metropolis and in everything adjacent. It was being a necessity to a community, not just a shiny accessory. It was never running the risk of an area ever getting bored with him, and moving on to the big thing, after the initial hysterical celebration.

It was never being ignored, by anyone, his presence on a team sufficient to preclude any need for a "Fan Up" campaign, to tell fans how to cheer and when to arrive.

While it was unreasonable to expect anything close to an equal and opposite reaction to the frenzied angry scene in Cleveland on Dec. 2, there just wasn't much to see here Wednesday night.

There was the occasional, fleeting "Cleveland sucks" chant, more out of obligation than antipathy. There was brief booing for any Cavalier with the ball, indiscriminate and inappropriate, since the only crime Mo Williams and Antawn Jamison committed was failing in the playoffs, which helped convince James to relocate. There were five rows, at the top of section 110, that revived the unwieldy "Mi-a-mi Loves You" chorus that they spawned in the Heat's first home game following the "Akron Hates You" serenade at the Quicken Loans Arena.

And there was something else at AmericanAirlines Arena:

Emptiness.

Empty rows, at tipoff.

Empty seats in every section, long after the game began.

You wonder if, somewhere deep down, it left James with a bit of an empty feeling.

Before the game, I asked if South Florida's response to him had met his expectations.

"For me, I come here to play basketball," James said. "I respect the fans every night they come out and support us, and as players, we just try to go out and do the things that need to be done to keep them coming.

But for me, I've never been a guy that just chased the claps and chased all the other stuff. I just play basketball and let things happen.

"It's been great. It's been everything I expected and, as a team, we just need to continue to get better."

His team will, even if Wednesday's 101-95 victory wasn't its best night, just a six-point win against a team that had lost eight straight.

He will likely win rings - yes, more than one - here before he's done.

South Floridians will gasp over his dunks, gobble up his jerseys, gloat to fans in other cities.

They'll be amazed by much of what he does.

But will they ever be smitten by him?

Like Cleveland was?

These first two months certainly could make you wonder about that and wonder about whether he wonders too.

This is an excerpt from an article written by Howard Bryant of ESPN.com:

Last week I wrote a column suggesting that Cleveland Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert needs to take some responsibility for the current state of his franchise and his role in the events that led to LeBron James' departure instead of blaming James entirely for what has transpired with the Cavs over the last six months.

For the record, I am not particularly enamored of James, on or off the court. If he is the greatest physical talent to enter the game since Wilt Chamberlain, he is also a difficult offensive player to admire. He is a scorer, not a shooter, and yet he has an ongoing love affair with an erratic, unattractive jump shot. James has improved his shooting percentage since his rookie season but not necessarily his overall game -- not in the mold of Magic Johnson (who entered the league with a poor outside shot but left a competent 3-point shooter), Larry Bird (who developed a devastating low-post game late in his career), Michael Jordan or Kobe Bryant (both entered the NBA as dunkers but could soon score 30 points a night on jump shots).
He's very good, but there are arguments to make that LeBron James isn't as good as he could be.
He presents a mismatch for virtually every defender in the league, but despite a 6-foot-8, 260-pound frame he has no low post game and after nearly a decade in the league seems to have little interest in developing one.

On offense, he does not move without the ball and is not a threat unless he is initiating the action from the top of the key. When he is not handling the basketball, he often stands languid on the wing and does not draw defenses with movement or pressure them with positioning. In the midst of his eighth season in the league, James has never been a presence on the offensive or defensive boards, which is a must for a great player. His offensive and overall rebounding averages have dropped over the last three years -- 1.2 offensive rebounds per game for his career shouldn't wow anyone. In fact, Rajon Rondo, who is seven inches shorter and 100 pounds lighter, is developing into a better offensive rebounder than James - the numbers back that up -- and, for his size, Rondo is far more competent on the defensive end.

For all of his physical gifts, James has yet to find players who complement his game over the course of a full season and vice versa -- Allen Iverson-like.

Of all active players compared to James in their primes (of course, at 25, James might not yet be in his prime, depending on one's measure), I would select him for my team no higher than fifth, behind Bryant, Shaquille O'Neal, Tim Duncan and Dwyane Wade. At present, James isn't even the best player on his own team.
And yet, James is a hugely-significant figure in the NBA and sports world today for what he represents. He is the first mega-athlete to emerge in the 24/7 multimedia age that has been able to successfully navigate and capitalize on the shifting power dynamics that come with it. He is the perfect storm of 20th century battles: player freedom and control; free agency; the bypassing of the college game (those players were once called "hardship" cases); and the athlete as a corporation backed by a bigger one -- in LeBron's case, Nike.

Other modern athletes, including Tiger Woods and Jordan, have straddled varying elements of change during their times. No one has enjoyed the benefit of each of those developments in his prime as James has.

CLEVELAND -- Well, that was not what they wanted.

No, Cleveland was hoping its plucky young team would drive hard to the basket, hit its free throws, grab every loose ball and dump LeBron James in a vat of hot wax. It was clear the night wasn't going well for the Cavaliers when the second half started and they asked the refs if they could use a Nerf hoop.

This was all wrong. And yet, it was completely right. This was a Cleveland sports night -- the whole exquisitely miserable experience wrapped up in one cold and unfulfilling evening. It began with an electric, playoff-like atmosphere and ended with the Heat drilling the Cavs. The final was 118-90, but it wasn't even that close. The Cavs scored garbage-time points against Eddie House, Erick Dampier and three of LeBron's accountants. (He got them roster spots because hey, they're his friends!)

The basketball lesson for the day was that 'tis better to have LeBron James than to have loved and lost him. But this night was never really about basketball. It was about Cleveland. It was about Brian Sipe and Earnest Byner and Craig Ehlo. It was about Cavs fan Bart Gruber, who brought his 8-year-old son to the game -- not so much to cheer or boo, but because they are Cavs fans. I asked Gruber what he told his son after "The Decision."

"After he cried for two hours," Gruber said, "I just told him this was life."

Miami will never have a night like this. Never. The Heat may win championships, but their fans will never pack their arena simply to boo. The team will never be ingrained in the city's fabric like every Cleveland team. There are passionate fans in Miami, of course, but not as many. Some of the biggest roars of the night were for former Brown (and Cleveland native) Bernie Kosar, who went to one Pro Bowl. Any town can celebrate championships. Cleveland celebrates heartache.

On some level, James has to realize this now. He played his butt off against Cleveland -- 38 points, eight assists, five rebounds in just 30 minutes. It was an especially impressive performance considering that he seemed self-conscious the whole night. He knew everybody was judging him. He knew it when he listened to his headphones in a crowded locker room before the game, when he did windmill dunks in the layup line and when he did his famous powder-clap before the opening tip.

And he surely knew it when he went over to the Cavs' bench during the game to joke with some of his former teammates. It was calculated, a way to soften the crowd. See? These guys like me. How bad can I be? And you could tell by the Cavs' faces that they were stuck -- they didn't want to ignore him but didn't want to be seen talking to him, either.

At one point, in a moment caught on video and posted on YouTube, Cavs assistant coach Jamahl Mosley appeared to tell James to shut the bleep up.

Mosley was not alone. In Miami this week, somebody asked LeBron if he would like to see his number retired in Cleveland someday. He was, after all, the best player in franchise history. He said he would love that, and you know what? I think the Cavs would love to hang his jersey from the rafters, as long as he is in it.

Most Cleveland fans say -- and have said since July -- that they aren't mad that LeBron left; they're mad at how he left. Of course, this is easy to say. It allows fans to take the high road and still be mad. But ask yourself this: If LeBron had played for Miami for seven years, then left for Cleveland in the same way, would Miami be nearly as angry as Cleveland is?

Trick question. NBA stars don't leave Miami for Cleveland.

I'm no psychologist, but I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that a guy who calls himself King James and has his initials and "Vivat Rex" -- Latin for "Long live the king" -- on his custom-made Nike jacket, and has CHOSEN 1 tattooed across his back and WITNESS tattooed on one calf and HISTORY on the other calf might have a big ego. It is an ego borne of insecurity, and this is why he left for Miami in the first place:

He wanted things to be easier. He wanted Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh at his side and South Beach a short drive away. That is the fundamental disconnect between James and Cleveland fans. They gave up on easy a long time ago.

So there they sat, at a table, the self-anointed Big Three, from left to right, Wade, James, Bosh. James said he loves Cleveland fans but that a "I'm a Miami ... Heat guy," because when you do something stupid like give your team a singular nickname, this is the silly stuff your stars have to say.

Behind the Heat bench, where fans wore shirts that read LeBUM, and a man and woman hugged and wore matching VICTIM shirts and looked like they had just run over their poodle, it got ugly. James may have ungodly leaping ability and ridiculous hand-eye coordination, but he also has ears, and the fans knew he could hear them.

Some of the chants were amusing ("Scottie Pip-pen!) and some were cruel ("Ak-ron hates you!") and many were unprintable. At least one cup flew out of the stands toward the Miami bench. It was a little inappropriate, considering he does have that CHOSEN 1 tattoo and it is Hanukkah.

Anyway, James seemed unfazed. He joked with Wade and Bosh about a broken bobblehead doll that landed near them. He ignored almost everything the fans screamed.

And then a few guys sitting on the baseline got his attention. They didn't taunt him. They didn't yell. They just said:

Look around. Do you see all the fans? This is Cleveland. This is what you're missing. You'll never have this in Miami.

And LeBron James agreed.

"He said, 'You guys are crazy,'" said one of the fans, named Ryan Napier.

James meant it as a compliment. They are crazy. He has left them for a land where there is no winter, for teammates who were stars before he joined them, for fans who care passionately about their basketball team for every bit of the final two minutes of playoff games. Someday, he'll miss those crazy fans and those winter nights. Someday, he'll miss all those witnesses.