It is hard to work up much pity (or any) for a man making $153.3 million on a four-year contract to play basketball.
So what we seem to be feeling instead is closer to morbid delight in watching LeBron James’ woes in his unraveling first season as a Los Angeles Laker. It is different. It is weird.
America has known LeBron for half of his life, since he was a teenage phenom whose high-school games were nationally televised. He is 34 now, and we are seeing something new, something not seen before.
We are seeing him fail.