Sports Illustrated - USA (2020-12)

S O

T Y

White America doesn’t fully understand the

screwy irony that Black people can be successful

by typical American dream standards but still

experience the hollowness of that dream when

they drive in their cars and are consistently pulled

over by the police for no reason. Remember when

Chris Rock posted selfies of being pulled over by

police three times in seven weeks? We can feel

fortunate and grateful for our own success but

still lament the plight of our friends, family and

members of our community who face a shorter

life expectancy because of inferior health care,

who cope with severe health problems because

there are no grocery stores in their neighbor-

hood, who have to use a white name on their

résumé to be considered for a job. It is the mark

of LeBron’s greatness that even though he had

gotten his slice of the pie, he refused to let others

in need struggle on their own. He has never

stopped trying to make America become the

nation it was envisioned to be. It is an enormous

act of patriotism for African Americans to love a

country that doesn’t love them back.

Sure, LeBron has built a school, fought against

police brutality, produced documentaries that

celebrated Black lives and led the Lakers to

the championship. But what has he done for us

lately? He did what will resonate more deeply

than anything else in his legacy: He got out the

vote. In 2020 we saw the largest, most egregious

campaign of voter suppression since the Civil War.

In response, LeBron waged his own war—

against political lethargy and social disenfran-

chisement. The organization More Than a Vote,

supported by LeBron, Offset, Odell Beckman Jr.

and other Black athletes and artists, aggressively

set out to inspire young people, particularly

young Black people, to vote. It worked: More

voters turned out than in any election in the

nation’s history. With open racism spreading

through the U.S. like kudzu, LeBron’s efforts

gave African Americans their voice, which so

many have tried to silence.

In 1990, Ali went to Iraq to negotiate the

release of 15 American hostages being held by

Saddam Hussein in the days right before the

Gulf War. President George H.W. Bush criti-

cized him. The New York Times criticized him.

Ali didn’t care. He was 48 and had been dealing

with Parkinson’s for six years. Despite the offi-

cial censure, despite the enormous physical toll,

despite Saddam’s keeping him waiting for days,

Ali was able to bring all 15 hostages home safely.

Each of them joyously thanked him, but Ali felt

he was just doing his duty. “They don’t owe me

nothin’,” he said. “I believe that when you die and

go to heaven, God won’t ask you what you’ve done

but what you could have done.”

That is what the Muhammad Ali Legacy Award

is all about. It’s not about being proud of your

accomplishments, but asking yourself what else

you can be doing. That is the LeBron James I

know and the LeBron James the sport—and the

country—are fortunate to have.

SP

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ON

(^) OF
(^) TH
E (^) Y
EA
R
DA
VID
(^) E.
(^) KL
UT
HO
SOME MIGHT
CLAIM IT’S EASY
TO PREACH
FROM A PULPIT
BUILT ON
STACKS OF CASH.
THEY’RE WRONG.
MAXED OUT
Whether
pursuing rings
or promoting
social justice,
James gives all
that he has.
L E B R O N J A M E S