LeBron's disappearing act happens too often

DALLAS -- This was what we were talking about.

LeBron James' epic talents come with some hard-to-read fine print that, examined closely and honestly enough, spells out the chance for some equally epic disaster.

Let's get the good stuff out of the way: LeBron is a transcendent talent whose skills are as praiseworthy as anyone on Earth. He is a fantastic and loyal teammate. He is not a bad person. He cares deeply about winning. And he is so good -- so ridiculously good -- that even his tendency to shrink wholly and completely from big moments can be countered by those times when his physical gifts simply win out over the pressure.

But it's the other stuff -- those parts of LeBron that merely mentioning can make Heat fans irate and much of the media in South Florida instantly defensive -- that won out Tuesday night in Game 4 of the NBA Finals.

It's the fact LeBron James can disappear from the biggest moments of his career because he often cannot handle them -- which, make no mistake about it, is why the Heat lost Tuesday night.

The Mavericks' 86-83 comeback win to knot the series at 2-2 cannot -- does not -- happen if LeBron does not offer up his worst offensive performance since Jan. 5, 2007.

Eight points: That was his total for the night.

Zero points: That was his total for the fourth quarter.

One field-goal attempt: That's how many shots LeBron dared to take in the fourth quarter, a dizzying 12 minutes in which the Heat mustered only 14 points -- including just five points in the final 7:06 -- and squandered a nine-point lead with 10 minutes left.

"I'm confident with my ability," LeBron said afterward.

No, LeBron, you're not.

You have scored two combined points and taken four combined shots in the fourth quarters of Games 3 and 4. You have scored nine total points in the four fourth quarters of this series. Dirk Nowitzki, with his sinus infection and 101-degree temperature, scored more than that in the fourth quarter of Game 4 alone.

"He struggled," Chris Bosh said. "Point blank, period. He struggled out there. We've all done it in our careers, and it happens."

Sorry, Chris, but no. It shouldn't happen; not to LeBron. And the fact it did, in basketball terms, is simply unacceptable.

Neither you nor any of your other teammates are LeBron James, Chris. Neither you nor any of your other teammates are the best basketball player on the planet.

You're all less, and in such moments LeBron should be more than all but a few of you, ever.

That is a fact.

But LeBron simply hasn't been able to perform like that. As in Game 5 against the Celtics in last year's Eastern Conference finals (when he went three for 14, never asserted himself and scored just 15 points in his last home game as a Cavalier), LeBron vanished.

No, despite what he says, LeBron James is in no way confident, but I get it. What else can the poor guy say? After a Game 3 win Sunday night, he was asked about shrinking in that fourth quarter, and he was defensive and pointed in his response: I do more to help my team win than just score.

That's fine when Wade can do the other stuff to get the win, but there was no such place to hide Tuesday night. Wade needed help and LeBron, guarded by the likes of Jason Kidd and Jason Terry, shriveled up and disappeared before our eyes.

This bears repeating: Jason Kidd. And Jason Terry.

And yet they weren't the greatest factors in stopping LeBron.

The moment was.

During the fourth quarter, LeBron had the body language of that kid they shove in right field during little league games, the one who's out there silently asking God to send the ball anywhere but to him.

Play after play, LeBron found ways to avoid getting the ball. A cut here. Floating to the weak side. And, when the ball did come to him, passing with an almost panicked need to unload it.

"I got to do a better job of being more assertive offensively," he said.

No, LeBron, you need to start with simply doing a better job of being present. Being assertive comes after that.

As LeBron hid, Wade did everything he could for the Heat. He scored 32 points, he had half of the Heat's 14 fourth-quarter points, and he attacked and took the team on his shoulders. But, in the end, his shoulders were not enough.

Wade knew that last year. It's why Wade teamed with LeBron, and why LeBron teamed with Wade: They need each other.

Chris Bosh did his part, chipping in with 24 points, though he scored none in the fourth. But if you get 24 from Chris Bosh in a Finals game, you take it with a smile and place no blame on him.

It was the self-proclaimed Chosen One whose moment had arrived, again. And, again, he let it pass by. He was so afraid of failure that he didn't even try.

What's amazing about this is LeBron does not need to be the lone hero. Not anymore; not in the way that need in Cleveland defined his time and drove him from his home.

In Miami, LeBron just needs to be the hero's accomplice. The Heat can be champions several times over if the team embraces its inner Dwyane Wade while getting just a little help from LeBron James.

Just a little.

He can call himself King and revel in his coronations as long as he brings a little bit of his basketball royalty to bear in big moments.

This is why at the start of the Eastern Conference finals I wrote that the Heat must allow the soul of their team to reflect its real leader (Wade) rather than its best player (LeBron).

And then LeBron went out and -- in a series against the Bulls in which Wade struggled -- played amazing basketball.

And so LeBron fooled me. I thought as so many others who have looked with great admiration on his game and his talents that he had crossed from that place of promise to one of its fulfillment.

I forgot what I'd witnessed all regular season as LeBron and his team whiplashed from dominating force to off-balance stars: That LeBron is as incredible when things are going well as he is unreliable when things are going badly.

It's why it took him months to recover from The Decision. Why it took a battered Boston team for LeBron to finally get past them. Why November was such a mess for this Miami team.

LeBron James does not handle sudden adversity well.

He's the belt-worthy boxer who, if you can land one vicious shot, can go down. From a mental-toughness point of view, LeBron has a glass jaw.

LeBron falls into funks. He feels pressure and, when it affects him, it affects him dramatically. He can be clutch, yes. But he can also choke in a way few players of his skill level will or should.

It's not that LeBron always chokes. It's that he chokes much, much too often for someone as gifted as he is.

All of these things have been hidden in little moments of this season. How LeBron has at times carried himself in times of crisis; the end-of-game situations in which he has seemed to vanish; the bewildered defiance when things first went askew: whether it was pretending he didn't say what he said about "contraction" or trying to sell the idea that a taunting tweet toward Cleveland about karma wasn't his idea.

And, most notably, how often the bad times can linger when they strike.

His head coach surely knows this, which is why his take on LeBron's embarrassing performance was to focus not on what had happened but on what must happen next: That they must make it easy, quickly, for LeBron to rebound.

"Obviously, we would like to get him involved," Erik Spoelstra said. "He's a very important piece to what we do. So we'll work to help make it easier for him next game."

That could be easier said than done. This is the NBA Finals, and the pressure that so clearly confronts LeBron's remarkable gifts has already gotten the better of him too often this series.

After the game, LeBron sat at the podium in a green sports coat. The color was fitting. Once again he seemed too green for the weight of the thing in front of him; once again he looked too weary for a week of basketball that will require boldness.

Yes, Wade is still out there at his side. And yes, the Heat play punishing defense and have role players (Mario Chalmers, Udonis Haslem, Mike Miller) who are quietly blossoming this postseason.

But when it comes to The King, it's time everyone agrees on what is clear: LeBron James is an epic talent, and a decent guy, who can take over a game and lead a team in a way few can.

But he's also a player who can vanish when the team needs him most -- who, if things go poorly, can come wholly unglued.

And it's that uncertainty, and LeBron's wide performance spectrum in huge games like the ones ahead of us, that make predicting how the Finals are going to end almost impossible.

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