The Miami Heat are such an intriguing thing. I’ll admit right from the start, I don’t know where I’m going with this post as my fingers dance across the keyboard. The only thing I do know is that something seems amiss in the Heat. It’s felt that way for awhile. Even when times were “good.” Something’s…just…off.
Maybe the NBA pundits and experts can break it down better. I haven’t watched every regular season Heat game enough to understand the dynamics of this squad. That said, as an NBA fan, I’ve managed to see them about a dozen times. And I don’t get them. Doesn’t that sound deep and insightful? They don’t seem to feel like a team. Many a championship crew has boasted superstars and a bunch of seemingly strewn-together supporting cast members. Yet, the Dallas Mavericks of last season felt far different from this team. Miami doesn’t feel anywhere near a champion.
Why? Who knows. Or maybe we do know. Maybe two superstars can’t co-exist. Perhaps Erik Spoelstra is in over his head. It could be the complementary pieces simply aren’t right. Or maybe it’s as simple as these guys just not having it. Yes, I hear all the moaners. The infamous “it.” Whatever “it” is, one might think all-out hustle, killer instinct, poise under pressure…and grace, humility and using disappointment to fuel motivation and inspiration could all be elements of it.
LeBron and Wade did a lot of fist-pumping and flexing during the regular season. They haven’t done all that much in the postseason. Why did they abandon the bravado? If that’s what you’re about, at least it’s something. There’s some emotion. This team looks uninspired. Bailing on the post-game presser following a big loss is just another illustration of what’s wrong.
If I was a Heat fan, I’d be nervous. Because I’d have no idea what needs to be fixed and how. And that has to be maddening.
About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.