Here’s the rub. When you’re Rondo — or really, any pass-first point guard cut from a similar cloth — you can’t win the PR battle. When your team does well, it’s because of all those great players around you who carried you to victory; when you lose, it’s a crisis of leadership and you, being the floor leader, take the blame.

Throughout his career, Rondo has been damned if he succeeds and damned if he fails.

Rondo’s on the Dallas Mavericks now. When they traded for the now-four-time All-Star on Dec. 19, the Mavs were 19–8 through their first 27 games of the season, and they boasted one of the best offensive efficiency ratings in the history of the game. Since acquiring Rondo, Dallas has declined from world-beating to simply very good, going 24–17 and putting out an offense that’s merely among the NBA’s top five, averaging just a hair below 110 points per 100 possessions. Naturally, given that Rondo’s arrival stands as the only major change the Mavs have undergone this season, the point guard has taken more than his fair share of the blame for the team’s relatively lackluster performance since his arrival.

The narratives are obvious and write themselves. It’s incredibly facile to bash an NBA point guard when his team loses — he’s right up there with the NFL quarterback among the easiest figures in sports to psychoanalyze. When a point guard fails, it’s because “he’s not a leader.” He’s putting himself before the team, or he’s failing to make his comrades better, et cetera, et cetera. Those criticisms are easier than ever with a guy like Rondo, who’s spent his entire career clashing with teammates and coaches. He even made headlines in late February when an on-court blowup between him and coach Rick Carlisle led to a half-game benching in one contest and a suspension for another.

The hot takes were positively sizzling after that one.

The truth with Rondo, though, is that he’s misunderstood. Terribly so. He doesn’t struggle with others because he’s self-involved; he does so because he wants his team to win and he’s too headstrong to believe someone else has a better way than he does. That sort of mindset can alienate his teammates and coaches — one of whom once witnessed Rondo throwing a bottle through a TV screen — but it’s not a fatal flaw if managed properly.

In Dallas, there is a common goal: Both Rondo and Carlisle both want the team to be successful. Given how smart and hardworking they both are, it’s only a matter of time before they figure out how.