There’s been some talk lately about how NBA players have got this whole professional sports thing figured out.

When Anthony Davis announces that he would like to find a new place to stay, everyone starts straightening up in case he pops by for a visit. It doesn’t occur to anyone among these ruthless capitalists that Davis has achieved Marx’s dream – this particular worker controls his own means of production.

Major League Baseball players have noticed that they don’t control much. They go where they’re told. More and more, they’re told to sit at home and practise being unemployed.

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A bunch of them were kvetching to The New York Times this weekend in a column headlined, “Can LeBron James Teach Baseball Players What They Forgot?”

Catchy, but first things first – can James teach himself what he forgot? Which is to say, winning basketball games.

James’s Los Angeles Lakers lost again on Saturday. Which is fine. To the wretched Phoenix Suns. Which is less so. For the fourth time in five games. Which is bad. And now find themselves 4 1/2 games out of the final playoff spot in the West. Which is a disaster.

Vegas just dropped the Lakers’ odds at making the postseason to Washington Generals territory. For the first time in a generation, people are betting on the idea that LeBron James is a loser.

After the humiliation in Arizona, James, 34, appeared weary and defeated. He shrugged philosophically through a sustained questioning. It was only when it was put to him that his coach, Luke Walton, had suggested the team played without sufficient “passion” that James flinched.

He slapped his hands together, bit his lip and seemed to think very hard about saying something he’d enjoy regretting. He decided against it.

“I’m not here to harp on the negativity,” James said, returning to monotone.

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We’ll have to wait for later for the harping, but you can see it coming from a long way away. There is going to be an off-season bloodbath in Los Angeles. Per his unwritten contract, James will be the one swinging the axe.

In his athletic middle-age, James has become the voice of authority in the NBA. Based on the evidence of this season, perhaps too much so.

If you believe his friends, James has always planned to end his career in L.A. Not hoped to or wished for, but planned it this way. Championships in Miami (check); championship in Cleveland (check); and then championships in L.A. (bump that one to the 2020 calendar).

No player in history had been the centrepiece of three dynasties. James would be the first man on that moon. The final move would put him in position to pivot to Hollywood whenever he chooses to retire.

He’s already moving into that space. He’s got his own HBO show (The Shop). He’s eating Michael Jordan’s cinematic lunch (starring in a Space Jam reboot). He owns a production company (SpringHill Entertainment).

James’s basketball and entertainment worlds already overlap, uncomfortably so. Davis was a guest on The Shop. SpringHill is developing a sitcom based on the life of Philadelphia 76ers star Ben Simmons.

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Both Davis and Simmons are clients of James’s agent, business partner and best friend, Rich Paul. This isn’t a little incestuous. It’s X-rated.

When Lakers president Magic Johnson said he would like to spend the summer working with Simmons – you know, just point guard to point guard, all friendly like, no funny business – it was so brazen people had to laugh.

However, no one thought it unusual or affronting. Not because Johnson is the sort to tap up other teams’ guys. But because he now fronts LeBron James, who does his business like a robber baron. He takes what he likes.

Or, fairer to say, James used to do that.

He couldn’t have thought he’d win a championship with the Lakers as he inherited them, but he must have assumed he could get them into the playoffs single-handed. That he won’t is a blow to his brand.

He wanted Davis as a teammate right now. It is very hard to believe James was unaware of Paul’s plan to destroy Davis’s relationship with the New Orleans Pelicans shortly before the trade deadline. The hoped-for shotgun move to L.A. didn’t pan out. The Pelicans refused to make a bad basketball deal in return for shedding a PR nightmare. That was the first real loss of the season for James.

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In all likelihood, the Lakers will have to wait at least two seasons before they can sign Davis as a free agent. James turns 35 in December. Two seasons is a long time.

This summer, the Lakers will have a few other gold-plated free agents for James (as opposed to the Lakers) to pursue. Toronto’s Kawhi Leonard will be prime among them.

The assumption is that people will do anything to play with James. But were I a major star with options, I’d be seriously asking myself why I would want to join LeBronCorp at this juncture.

Five years ago? Sure. But the contemporary James doesn’t look quite so hot. He’s getting old. He’s starting to get injured. And he has a bit of a Captain Ahab thing going on, hands tightening on the wheel as his final whale starts putting some distance on the boat.

You can get the same money anywhere. In any of those places, you’re the man. In L.A., you aren’t just second fiddle. Regardless of how good you are, you’re a baggage handler, like everyone else.

If you would like to share your thoughts on the direction of the team, there’s no point going to the coach or the GM. They aren’t in charge. James is.

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If you run up against the big dog, woe be unto you. The league will shun you. You’ll become Kyrie Irving – James’s former sidekick, now best known for believing the earth is flat.

Maybe some players want to surrender that much agency. It does sound relaxing.

But if the deal here is helping James complete his legacy in return for a guaranteed return on championship investment, let’s hope they haven’t caught many Lakers games this season.

Because this is what the universe tends to do to people who get exactly what they wished for.