LeBron James' defiance of Father Time keeps us watching

Editor's note: This is the Monday, March 27, 2023, edition of the Purple & & Vibrant Lakers newsletter from press reporter Kyle Jerk. To receive the newsletter in your inbox, register here.

The closest I ever got in five years to seeing LeBron James as he is-- and not simply as he wishes to be seen-- was 3 years ago.

The NBA bubble had a strange kind of closeness (even as we were masking and following certain distancing guidelines) sort of like a high school drama production: You might always get a look backstage. "Locker spaces" were sometimes curtained-off parts of the court that NBA groups were using feet away. There was extremely little privacy; vulnerabilities that can typically be shrouded by closed doors in substantial sprawling arenas were largely out for scrutiny.

It was in this setting that I watched James, then 35, exercise with assistant Phil Handy for half an hour, which isn't itself uncommon. What was distinct about this session was how inadequately he shot, missing out on looks left and right, looking worn out, sweating through his hoodie. Throughout the early days of the pandemic, James had actually grown the beard of a mountaineer, and he had let gray seep into its fringes.

Writers look for poignant scenes and minutes, and to me at the time, this was one of those. This workout was on the cusp of the NBA Restart, and really nobody knew how the top-seeded Lakers were going to play-- not to discuss if the entire bubble may collapse in a week. The gray hairs, the weary workout, James pushing his back on the court, swearing in frustration-- it caught the sense of uncertainty at the time, as well as the star's toughest individually he'll ever face, against Father Time.

So I did what any author would do-- I composed it. And as vulnerable as I discovered that moment for LeBron, it was even more informing what I observed in the media session prior to the very first video game that would count: He dyed his beard. All those white hairs that discreetly recommend a sort of sageness or worldy experience were blended to look similar to the others.

What I've come to understand about LeBron James is that he does not age with dignity. He relishes his still profound physical presents at age 38, maybe even more loudly on social media than he ever did before. No, he says, only he chooses when he's coming back.

The latest fight of James' profession has summoned forth that brazenness as soon as again. James' most current four-week return from a torn tendon in his best foot is undoubtedly an accomplishment. However his determination to trumpet the accomplishment in superlative terms is, well, very LeBron of him.

When did he get a sense that he could return earlier than most believed? "When the physicians informed me I was healing faster than anyone they've seen before with the injury," he said.

Faster than anyone? I'm sure they called Guinness to check the record book.

Past some statements that can cause involuntary eye-rolling-- like James' description that he got his last medical recommendation from "the LeBron James of feet"-- there's something really engaging in his saga, now 20 years long.

Unlike many males feeling the onset of middle age doldrums setting in, James seeks to shake off the feeling like a moldy winter season coat. Unlike many of us, he has the ability to work out three hours a day on a torn tendon that two other doctors stated he needs to get surgically repaired.

James understands the work of being an NBA star-- not just a great player, but a 24/7 face-of-the-league star-- in a method that couple of others have actually ever been able to grasp. One of the things he comprehended early on was that his body was his ticket, and if it failed him, that would reduce every other fantastic aspiration he had in his life.

When asked if he would eventually need surgery on his foot, James stated the most he understands is that he does not need surgical treatment today. He included: "If I end up having to get surgery after the season, you guys will not know. I don't talk to you men in the offseason, and by the time next season begins, I'll be fine, I'll be all set to go."

James understands that his brand name represents not just winning, however a sort of physical invincibility. That has been undercut in the last few years by his injury struggles: In 5 seasons as a Laker, he's only played more than 60 video games once. The foot isn't even his most serious injury he's had in L.A.-- his 2018 groin tear was the predecessor to a litany of injuries that followed, and at times he's offered us factor to believe that it still bothers him in some unknowable way.

But potentially the most human characteristic I've observed about LeBron is how he battles the idea that he's aging-- whether it's reposting his sky-high dunks, or doing a commercial where he plays the embodiment of Father Time. He spits in its face. He recommends that he's still young at heart, maybe the reason why he still gets a bang out of playing basketball versus teens who bet his oldest boy, or who have daddies who guarded him two decades earlier.

Sometimes, James' battle to remain ahead of the sands of time have actually gotten him into trouble. His assistance of the trade for Russell Westbrook can be seen, in one sense, of him trying to jumpstart a new incredibly group, and it coming a cropper. As bold of time as he may be, James has a sense of how his championship contending window is closing-- perhaps most properly, how time is restricted for him to be the very best player on a championship group-- and it draws him to spontaneous choices, like his desire for the Lakers to trade for Kyrie Irving previously this season.

However beyond his dubious personnel judgment, James is driven to do other extraordinary things. Blowing past the NBA's all-time scoring record might have felt, to some, a little hollow amid a season on the edge, but I think the passing of time and James' continued distancing from the field will provide point of view to the achievement that was and is. Even prior to that, when he scored a season-high 47 points on his 38th birthday, he surprised and shook the dust off a team that was headed to oblivion-- the start of a five-game win streak.

What we can lose sight of is that nowadays will end. That's what ultimately offers sports such worth: We view highly trained, extremely focused people carry out physical tasks no one else can. No game is ever perfectly duplicated-- there's a level of improvisation, a sort of script-less drama to every night that makes it engaging. And LeBron James is more fun to watch than most.

The factor I'm writing this is because I'm out of time. After 5 years covering the Lakers, this is my last day at Southern California News Group. I've seen LeBron and the Lakers play hundreds of times live, viewed them win a championship that nearly nobody still can fully value, enjoyed them tumble from the top due to errors of their own making. It's been a journey of accomplishment and grief.

After those securely packed years, you're filled with the urge to mark the moment. One impulse I have is to simply note all the things I want I had actually interacted much better as a day-to-day beat reporter, or weigh in on the pushing issues the franchise discovers itself in now.

I will state I find Anthony Davis to be underappreciated, miscast by pundits trying to compare him to Michael Jordan instead of comparing him to Scottie Pippen. If the Lakers ever were to trade him (as numerous fans tweet over and over), they 'd be hard-pressed to ever discover someone with as much two-way worth in return.

I believe those who rushed to offer 2 thumbs up to the Lakers at the trade deadline might wish to wait up until the season plays out, then ask themselves if conserving a first-round pick deserved punting away half the season on a Westbrook experiment that had already played out.

I'll say I believe the Lakers, as a franchise, need to concentrate about whether they're growing the business and the brand in a way that sets them up for the future, instead of just trading on their winning previous and assuming that method will keep bring them.

Time and time again, I'm drawn to LeBron-- who on the day of my last video game covering the Lakers, made himself the story. And while the Lakers lost, enjoying him play was a fitting epitaph to my time on the beat. LeBron James accepted sign up with the Lakers on July 1, 2018. I agreed to cover the Lakers on July 2.

There are times when James seems like a "superhero," as Jeanie Buss once told me. There are times when he looks like his star has actually taken him out of touch or left him with an absence of viewpoint. What we can discover in those contradictions, I think, is that part of the human spirit that feels the drag of time and lashes back. There's a human therein, one who is still based on the devastations of age, but he does whatever in his power to push past those limits and keep the program going.

When I started covering the Lakers, I presumed I would be viewing the gentle decline of James' storied profession. It's been anything but: He raves against the passing away of the light. Now, he's outlasted this scribe-- and I'm not going to be the one to take a guess at how many more minutes are left.

When he's done, only LeBron James can state.

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