The NBA is in a golden era. Social media and the 24-hour news-cycle have created a cultural milieu in which what were once inherently private interpersonal dramas now unfold publicly and in real-time. Today’s beefs are as much a staple of our collective NBA diet as anything that happens on the court and are just as convoluted and contrived as the pre-game handshake routines that often border on avante-garde interpretive dance.
In recent years, pro athletes, on the whole, have been plummeting toward a nadir of pettiness, thin-skinnedness, and passive-aggressiveness and have aspired to a level of petulance normally reserved for cartoon rich kids, ever reminding us that no slight is too small to be left unanswered, with social media doubling as the virtual battlefield where much of this stuff plays itself out.
Speaking of handshakes and world-class pettiness, a recent report from a reputable NBA writer that was confirmed by three separate sources claims that a jilted high-five may have very well been the source and fulcrum of what has undoubtedly been the tastiest beef of the new season by far: Kyrie Irving vs. the Universe.
Jason Lloyd of The Athletic published a story that detailed the aforementioned anecdote in which Irving’s father, Drederick, allegedly once pulled the old psyche-out trick on one of LeBron’s associates, Randy Mims, as he went in for a high-five. If true and it did, in fact, create the crack in the foundation of their relationship that led to their eventual split, it’s truly something that’s beyond our admittedly limited powers of comprehension.
Either way, Irving eventually requested a trade, and it was off to the races at the petty pentathlon. We’d be remiss if we didn’t pause here and credit the sports media at large for not only being complicit but eagerly following every tattered thread all the way down the rabbit hole. Everyone has a role to play.
For LeBron, it was an opportunity to flex some of those passive-aggressive muscles that have largely laid dormant since the immediate aftermath of the Cavs’ historic Finals comeback victory in 2016 when he embarked on a Warriors troll-athon that lasted all the way to the following Halloween.
LeBron, we’ve learned, enjoys a certain level of nuance when he’s throwing shade; for instance, an Instagram video he posted of himself singing a Meek Mill song that features a throwaway line about friends not having your back.
interesting song choice by Lebron here 👀 pic.twitter.com/rSIeVQbSq4
— Jordan Heck (@JordanHeckFF) July 22, 2017
Or how he just happened to post another Instgram video of him working out with Kevin Love at the same time Irving made a scheduled appearance on ESPN’s “First Take.”
https://www.instagram.com/p/BZMEQ-kHG0E/
But Irving isn’t a neophyte when it comes to the subtle art of throwing shade. Shortly after his trade request, grizzled social media sleuths discovered that he’d already unfollowed LeBron on Instagram. Then, perhaps taking a cue from Russell Westbrook on how a putatively innocent clothing item can contain a coded insult, Irving wore this hat to media availability after the preseason opener.
If you’re having trouble making it out, it reads “Popularity contests are not truth contests,” which is some expert-level Vague-booking. At a certain point, you have to wonder just what level of meta-awareness he’s operating from. Irving is a natural entertainer and is therefore acutely conscious of what makes for good theater. Exhibit A: his Flat-Earth comments that became a cause celebre.
If you take him at his word that the whole thing was nothing more than a quote-unquote exploitation tactic, it would follow that Irving is willing to adopt different personas to get a rise out of people, whether that be an elderly-man costume or the more metaphorical villain’s hat he donned when he called Boston a “real, live sports city,” effectively rendering himself public enemy numero uno in Cuyahoga County.
Nevermind the fact that he tried to play down his opening night return to Cleveland, and the avalanche of boos that was sure to accompany it, as just another game. The gentleman doth protest too much. Plus, it’d already had the intended effect of pulling Dwyane Wade into the fray, who heroically came to Cleveland’s defense in the aftermath of those comments.
And so opening night at The Q came and went and the boos rained down as expected, and afterward, it appeared as if the whole thing might be put to rest, for now at least, as Irving and his former teammates embraced one another warmly after the final buzzer and made a point of executing their baroque and individualized handshake routines for the cameras right there at center court.
Either way, it’s been a beautifully marbled cut of prime USDA beef to satiate the NBA masses, and with a long season ahead, it might not be long before they start serving up seconds.
