As a side effect of LeBron James’ decision to return home and quest a championship for Cleveland, a topic thought almost extinct in sports has been reborn.
Ever looking to please, James even spells it out on his body. Among his array of tattoos is a single word, large and cursive, that runs the length of his rib cage:
“Loyalty.”
What a quaint concept, one thought to come only in black and white and available strictly on Super 8 film. It dates to some of our most romantic of notions held about sports, back to letter jackets and retiring with the team that signed you and winning one for good ol’ State U.
While witnessing free agency in full flower, salary-cap dumps, college athletes transferring between schools as commonly as a diva changes shoes, coaches job-hopping, traditions trashed for the sake of a few dollars more, is there still really one non-cynical corner of this world where it is OK to believe in loyalty?
What happened with James and Cleveland struck a nostalgic chord with many fans. When he left there for Miami in 2010, he was showered with abuse, treated as a turncoat, booed as if he were single-handedly responsible for the collapse of American manufacturing.
But with one well-crafted announcement in partnership with Sports Illustrated, James reversed it all. Suddenly he became a symbol for the ideal of committing emotionally to the place where you play and earn your millions. That tattoo took on the weight of sincerity.
Overnight James transformed into the load-bearing beam of everything Cleveland. Basketball’s new Big Three: LeBron, the Cuyahoga River and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
James Gladden, an oft-published professor at Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis on the subject of sports marketing and brand building, was impressed.
“The announcement was handled in brilliant fashion in terms of the way it was communicated and the motivations for the decision,” he said. “We’re looking at a unique case of an athlete with incredible star power openly expressing his loyalty to a location.
“What I think is so interesting about that is that you just don’t see that as much anymore.”
Much of Gladden’s field is involved in trying to capitalize on that kind of development, studying how teams can strengthen their brand and, yes, build a base of loyalty. And, oh, there is money to be made on James’ Decision, Part II. Because of how much we want to believe that such fealty still exists, we’ll lap up the theme of James the homecoming hero.
“The impact of that will be fairly easily measured by the amount of merchandise purchased and season tickets purchased, TV ratings all kinds of metrics,” he said. “You’ll be able to look at that next year that and it will demonstrate that LeBron’s decision of four years ago is a thing of the past in the minds of the people of Cleveland.”
The ties that bind are more commonly slip knots. The fragile connection between player and team shows up long before he draws his first paycheck. Look at the transfer rate at the college level.
For instance, in men’s basketball about 40 percent of Division I players will have transferred by the end of their sophomore season, according to the latest NCAA survey.
It’s not entirely a gender thing. Consider the case of Diamond DeShields, the ACC’s freshman of the year from Norcross, who abruptly announced her transfer from one women’s power, North Carolina, to another, Tennessee. She’ll have to sit out next season, per NCAA rules.
Georgia Tech’s Brian Gregory was blindsided somewhat when his most skilled player, rising junior Robert Carter, announced he was transferring to Maryland. But the Tech basketball coach did not spend a lot of time in mourning. He brought in four transfers of his own this offseason, from Maryland, Alabama, Ole Miss and South Florida.
“It’s the society that we live in. If you don’t like something, you move,” Gregory said, slipping on his sociologist goggles for a moment.
“We want something, and we want it right now,” he added. “We want to be able to go through the drive-thru, be able to hit a minute on the microwave and get our food. It’s the same thing with careers.”
In such a world, you give the fans a story about a player who would do just about anything to wear the colors of his favorite team, and they will treat it like a tonic for their skeptical souls.
That explains why quarterback D.J. Shockley, who hung in for three years awaiting his chance to play a single season, is one of the most beloved Georgia Bulldogs. Hutson Mason hopes to follow that exact example this season. When coach Mark Richt said of Mason, “He has really sacrificed a lot for this team; he stayed because he loves Georgia and he especially loves his teammates,” the words sounded like classical music.
“I think there is still a lot of loyalty,” Richt said. “You only read about the guys who go, you know.”
He is a walking example of constancy. Coaching seems like temp work at most places, yet Richt is going on his 14th season at Georgia. “I’m hoping at least my loyalty to this program and my loyalty to the players and to the Georgia Bulldog nation is contagious,” he said.
We know the score. We know that teams in the business of big-time sports can’t afford to let emotion get in the way of winning. We know that it cuts both ways, that players have to look out for themselves because no one else will.
“I think savvy fans recognize that,” said Gladden, the sports-marketing scholar.
But once in a great while, though, there is a Derek Jeter, cheered at the All-Star game like an astronaut back from the moon for his 20 unbroken seasons as a Yankee. There is a LeBron James, the most dynamic performer in the NBA, returning to a pro sports wasteland because he felt the need to go home again.
And you hold onto those fleeting examples, realizing that while the ideal of loyalty in sports may never be in vogue, neither has it died.
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