I want to talk about this LeBron James block on Andre Iguodala because I don’t think that we can ever talk enough about beauty.
I met my first love during freshman year of college. She was fiercely intelligent, funny, flippant about insecurities and memorably gorgeous in the way that first loves always are. She had such big eyes. Her eyes could tell stories of the world and of your individual life, past and present, with just one glance. They were easy to get lost in.
That’s how beautiful this LeBron James block is. It’s beautiful from every angle and reveals something new each time you look at it.
As a block alone, it doesn’t get much better than this. I’ve written before about why blocks are so awesome. They’re the evil twin of the dunk. Both are great showings of physical dominance and timing, but where a great dunk usually represents the overcoming of an obstacle (unless you’re dunking on Jason Terry), the block is reality putting you back in your place. The dunk says we shall overcome. The block says no, not now, not here. Not while I’m still around.
The dunk is the physical embodiment of Drake’s "Started From The Bottom." The block is a struggling rapper asking Jay Z, "what’s the difference between a 4.0 and a 4.6" at the end of "Imaginary Players" and him replying, "like 30 to 40 grand ... beat it!" before driving off.
Look at how fast James ran, how high he jumped, how he tracked Stephen Curry and then Iguodala. This trifecta of physicality, anticipation and determination is only reserved for times when you want to tell someone in the most visceral of ways, to get the fuck out of here and words are simply not enough.
This is also James reminding Iguodala and the Warriors that he is still the ultimate obstacle. It’s not the overconfidence born of the 73-9 record, the Oklahoma City Thunder or the refs that the Warriors should have been worrying about. It’s the 6’8, 250 pounds of athletic perfection who can run like a point guard and jump like a member of House of Pain.
And it had to happen against Iguodala, the man, the X factor, who won last year’s finals MVP by making James’ life hell. The one who has been at the mercy of James this series as age, back pain and the surreal power of James caught up to him. This block was a reminder that all victories are short-lived and eventually life and LeBron come at you fast. James had already blocked Curry and Draymond Green last game, he had to finish this series by denying the same player who denied him glory last year. All scores are settled.
This block is the exclamation point on an unbelievable finals performance. It’s the ending of all the silly narratives surrounding James. It’s the end of the epic championship drought in Cleveland. With the game tied at 89 under two minutes left, after his team turned the ball over and the Warriors were threatening to stymie him once again, James shut all the prepared hot takes down.
He didn’t do it gracefully, because silly arguments don’t deserve a dignified response. James pinned all of the criticism to the backboard while leading all players in the finals in points, rebounds, steals and assists and blocks. If the command "Enough!" could ever be represented in a basketball play, it was this one. Oracle fell silent after the block.
That moment of absolute closure, like the ending of a riveting book, was so abrupt and total that it made you wonder what you’re supposed to do after. Look at the replay again. Kevin Love dallies around, not knowing if the referees are going to call the game right then.
It’s not just him, either. There’s a stunned confusion from James’ own teammates on the floor. Curry and Iguodala jog back, numb as robots. Aside from the few Cavaliers bench players standing at the bottom right, and a man in a suit who leaps in the air in excitement, no one else really appears to processes what happened.
Only James takes in the moment. He stands there, admiring his own powers, and savors the moment that he ended Golden State’s perfect season with the block that fulfilled his promise to Cleveland.
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