Mueller: James and Crosby's legacies secured long before latest titles

You would think that we would treasure the greats of any sport, especially when we are lucky enough to see them perform their majestic, spectacular feats with our own eyes, in real time. That we, the collective sporting public, people from far and wide who take so much joy in watching the games, in mythologizing our heroes, in extracting real-world meaning from games played by adults, would go to great lengths to properly appreciate and celebrate the accomplishments of the best of the best.

And yet, if the treatment of LeBron James and Sidney Crosby, the faces of and best players in the NBA and NHL respectively, is any indication, we are exacting to the point of absurdity with our expectations.

It hit me after I watched, in the span of a week, Crosby win both his second Stanley Cup and first Conn Smythe Trophy, and James finally deliver a championship to Cleveland, a city starved for a title for over half a century. There were glowing pieces written about both, rightly celebrating Crosby’s shift-in, shift-out brilliance in the Penguins’ win over the Sharks, and James’ transcendence in leading the Cavaliers to a stunning upset of the mighty Warriors.

There also was a sense of finality for both men, at least as far as their respective legacies were concerned. In bringing a title to his hometown, James seemed at last to have won over even his most dogged critics, even though it was his third championship. Crosby, after securing his second Cup, finally seemed to escape the criticisms of his play, both outrageous and at times valid, that plagued him almost annually after the Pens’ first Cup win.

Here’s a question: Why did it take this long to appreciate both of these guys? Why has it been so hard for the sporting public, up to and sometimes especially including hometown fans of each man, to embrace their greatness for what it is? Crosby and James were all-time greats long before each one claimed the highest victory their sport had to offer this spring.

James is a physical specimen like none other in the history of the game. His basketball IQ is off the charts. His ability to make those around him better truly remarkable. And yet, many are only too happy to compare him unfavorably to Michael Jordan, to pick apart every perceived flaw, to chop him down even as he performs wondrous feats.

Crosby still is the best player in the NHL, tempting though it is to suggest otherwise. His game has changed post-concussion, but his dominance has not. He is a terror, and the first person every opponent has to game plan for, and yet he faces plenty of pushback from opposing fans, home fans, and especially loud voices in the hockey media who seem to relish knocking him down a peg or three.

Hoops fans, if they don’t think James is the greatest of all-time, should at least recognize that he’s in the team picture. Hockey fans, and especially hockey media, ought to realize that constantly knocking Crosby’s abilities, and questioning, of all things, his work ethic, makes their sport and those that opine on it look small-time and out of touch with reality.

Instead of constantly trying to compare each player to guys that may have been great during formative adolescent years, perhaps time would be better spent enjoying them for what they are — wondrous talents whose prime years still appear to be ongoing.

It’s probably tough for fans of MJ to acknowledge that someone else could be as dominant, maybe even more so, than their all-time favorite, just as it may be tough for Penguins fans and hockey fans at large to admit that even the best players can’t get three points night in and night out. Comparing current players to past stars is a bedrock principle of any sports-related conversation, but it shouldn’t become the be-all, end-all, or get in the way of what’s most important.

What is most important, you ask? Enjoying the work of LeBron James and Sidney Crosby, two of the best to ever play their respective sports. Their careers will be over faster than you think, and there won’t be two quite like them for a long time, or maybe ever again.