The problem suddenly facing the Miami Heat isn't just that Dwyane Wade seems to be aging out of stardom before the Big Three win a single NBA championship. It's that he's doing so with an appalling lack of grace.
The depth of his deterioration came into sharp relief Thursday night during Miami's Game 3 loss to the Indiana Pacers. This is when the consequences of Wade's disastrous play and dysfunctional antics became as clear as they are ugly: That this new Dwyane Wade, physically diminished and wholly cancerous, could jeopardize the Big Three experiment itself, shatter any chemistry the team has built up the past two years, undermine his head coach's ability to lead and alter his own once sterling reputation.
Most troubling of all, this destructive version of Dwyane Wade will thrust even more pressure on LeBron James.
There was never much doubt that the Heat's postseason hopes would largely hinge on LeBron's ability to play with grace under pressure, and whether or not he can do so in these playoffs still hangs paramount over all the Heat's hopes.
The real surprise is that it is Wade's gracelessness that's playing such a key role in turning the Miami Heat from a powerhouse into a question mark.
All season long, there were signs Wade was aging before our eyes. He seemed slower, his agility limited, his ability to impose his will on the game somehow diminished. It was not gone, not exactly, but Wade's mesmerizing way of commanding the game in ways few could match wasn't the same, either. There was something in him that had been lost, and as the season wore on he seemed to telegraph that fact with acts that in hindsight are outrageous.
At the All-Star Game, he broke Kobe Bryant's nose in a play that even then seemed uncomfortably inappropriate – and in direct conflict with the narrative of Wade as the good guy.
Late in the regular season, he pushed Bulls guard Rip Hamilton to the ground because Wade, a notorious flopper, was unhappy with a no-call. When Mike Bibby's shoe popped off on a play in the Knicks series, Wade picked it up and threw it to the bench. In Game 2 of this series with the Pacers, again angry he hadn't gotten a call, Wade lowered his shoulder and took out Darren Collison with a cheap shot that should have gotten him suspended. Wade was tagged with just a flagrant 1 foul, but he still complained afterward that the Pacers celebrated too much after their win.
Then, on Thursday, during the worst playoff performance of his career (2-of-13 shooting and five points) Wade unloaded on his head coach during a timeout.
The Miami Herald quoted him as screaming at Spoelstra: “Get out of my [expletive] face!”
Not exactly the stuff of leaders.
LeBron James got a world of grief last season for being petulant, for supposedly undermining Spoelstra, for disrupting the Heat's rhythm and chemistry and in general for sowing a sense of doubt. LeBron's done none to little of that this year, but unfortunately for the Heat Wade has amply filled that role.
Wade has become a fading star whose tantrums and attitude diminish not just his own standing but his team's chances for success.
What we're seeing isn't just a star losing his edge. We're seeing what it looks like when a great man cannot transition to the next stage of his life with grace.
It's surprising, but Wade has always carried himself with a muscular swagger on the court, a kind of meanness and bullying that most greats bring to the game. There's an edge in that meanness, a kill-or-be-killed aura that helps define the “killer instinct” LeBron often lacks. Jordan had it. Kobe has it. Bird had it. Wade did, too.
Only now he seems unable to channel that anger and sizable chip on his shoulder into basketball. Where once he'd bury shots and stare down opponents, he's knocking them to the ground. Where once he'd match Kobe's game, now he's breaking his nose. Where once he'd embarrass lesser men and mentally dominate them, now he loses his cool and acts like a child not getting his way. Where once he'd carry his team to a title and afterward taunt the other team's star, now Wade is the heavy weight holding his guys back – and then lashing out at the victors benefiting from his awful play.
In his past four games, Wade is 25 of 77, or 32.5 percent. He looks old. He looks washed up. And he's acting the part, doing all he can to inflict damage off the court as well.
More than Chris Bosh's injury, more than the on-again, off-again play of the Heat's supporting cast and more than Spoelstra's “the rotation is the rotation” talk that masks the fact there is no rotation, it is Wade who has increased the burden now riding on LeBron's shoulders.
Wade can fix it by playing well again. But short of that, he can mitigate it by acting like a winner.
That Wade is now at the center of Miami's melodrama and dysfunction drives home again that they have become a modern-day Greek tragedy with a sports twist. We watch as these epic sports characters go on a quest for glory and redemption and face not just on-court opponents but issues that speak to challenges most of us can relate to.
LeBron James battles his own ego and his fear and the expectations of an eagerly watching world. Erik Spoelstra must win, or fail, in the shadow of his mentor. Chris Bosh has skill but has never seemed to fit in, on or off the court, making him an outcast that the group desperately needs – a fact driven home now that he's injured. And now Wade cannot face the fact of his own expiration date – that ugly fact that time comes for all of us.
Wade's lesson is more tragedy than farce. It is the story of a once-great man who when faced with the fact his time is passing him by becomes a tyrant instead of a leader; has become bitter instead of wise; selfish instead of selfless.
If Wade has begun his decline, and if he continues to play so poorly, he needs to change course at once and slip into this new phase with humility, calm and an outlook that does all it can to help Spoelstra and the team deal with the challenges ahead.
No more undermining the head coach. No more tantrums that inspire the other team and inflict damage on his own. No more outbursts that sow division, unease, a lack of confidence and a sense of dread. That's the last thing the Heat need right now.
Not all men can be stars, and no man can be a star forever. But everyone can choose, when given the chance, to act with class when things get hard. Anyone can choose the team over themselves, and grace over petulance.
It's time, starting with Game 4 Sunday, for Dwyane Wade to do so.
You can follow Bill Reiter on Twitter or email him at foxsportsreiter@gmail.com.
