





The unparalleled love for NBA superstars that perform in the clutch is unlike anything else in sports. Kobe Bryant’s one-on-one style in the closing moments of games was heir to Michael Jordan’s legendary finishing blows. Their emphatic fist pumps and rousing chest pounds are etched into our collective sports consciousness. We never forget grand finishes capped by an athlete's unwillingness to lose. Fans eat it up—and understandably so. Our romanticization of such impressive individual achievements is deeply ingrained into American culture. There is something so perfectly American in this easily digestible action of a single player "winning a game." We love things that are impressive and simple. I believe this provides insight into our reverence of NBA players that singlehandedly perform well in the clutch. That is, until LeBron James came along.





LeBron did not fit the mold. Here is a 6’8” 250-pound beast who can do virtually anything he wants on a basketball court. Unlike anyone else, he scores and plays defense while orchestrating and executing like a coach. His physical stature and play mirror everything that we traditionally admire. And yet, many find his game unsatisfying. He looks and feels like he should be a Jordan- or Kobe-type and yet he self-identifies and plays more like Magic Johnson. He “passes too much.” Somehow the future Hall-of-Famer, who has mastered the game on a level never seen before, is criticized for how he plays the game. The tension is palpable in how we idealize success through traditional masculinity and how many players (and coaches) in the newer generations approach a game's final moments. The undying love for the Jordan/Kobe-style singular determination is battling it out against a team-first LeBron-style strategy. Old school vs. new school.









or someone else.) Here's how I articulated my feelings in another one of those Kobe/Jordan/LeBron conversations recently with a couple friends: We need to identify and answer a few simple questions regarding the desired outcome of end-game situations. 1) What’s the goal at the end of the game? (Hit shots.) 2) What’s the best way to do that? (Get a high percentage shot.) 3 How do you get a high percentage shot? (Create one for yourself.)





A great closer wins games. The false equivalence of winning games as an individual to winning games as a team is mistaken. “Putting the ball in the hoop” is the goal—it doesn’t matter who does it. In fact, the goal of a leader in any field should be to achieve a desired outcome no matter who receives credit. A leader recognizes the strengths (and weaknesses) of all team members and puts the team in the best position to succeed. The pass that leads to the shot doesn’t lead to the same glory, chest pounding, or snarling face of victory that does a one-on-one buzzer beater. Kids don’t grow up on the driveways of America pretending to pass to teammates in the best position to hit a shot or layup. We chant “3…2…1…” and launch a fade-away shot as time expires to the invisible crowd going wild. It’s the American Dream in a moment.



