I never really pictured ESPN, the (self-declared) worldwide leader in sports, as Lois Lane. Somehow, I now can't get that image out of my head.
Tomorrow, Michael Jordan wannabe LeBron James (is it the shoes?) will announce who he will allow to stuff millions of dollars in his pockets. The NBA world waits with bated breath. League Commissioner David Stern will be sitting near his very own "batphone" of sorts ready to call up the NBA's official costumers to start cranking out more LeBronwear.
If the NBA had rings around its planet, they would be spinning wildly off kilter. Mr. James has seemingly sucked the oxygen out of the sports world and Divorcee-in-waiting Tiger Woods would like to thank him for distracting sports nuts.
The space oddity in all of the noise surrounding the NBA's current Superman is how readily ESPN jumped into bed with him.
There will not be a press conference with reporters from The Cleveland Plain Dealer or Japan Times or a hundred other Clark Kents with microphones hanging on Mr. James every word as he begins: "I'm pleased and excited to announce I have signed a multi-year contract with..." Only Ms. Lane, er, ESPN will be in the bedroom. In the same bed. Ready to cuddle up and spoon.
For those of you who believe there is no issue with ESPN turning this announcement into "The Decision," consider this -- how can it ever report with a straight-face in the future any improprieties or criminal acts by Mr. James? With their fingerprints all over Superman's cape, there is no doubt where their allegiance now lies. It's with Mr. James. They have a relationship now. And as the saying goes, breaking up is hard to do.
With the inside track on where the phone booth Mr. James will be donning his superhero costume is located, ESPN has crossed a line. It will have kow-towed to his needs, allowed Mr. James to manage the information and permitted him to alter reality.
Mr. James has proven he can fly with the best of the NBA's superstars. And with this move, his marketing empire has pulled off a coup toward elevating him to a Jordanesque stratosphere. Even the greatest basketball player of all time understood a press conference is not held in the privacy of a boudoir.
The question Friday morning will be not where Superman is now hanging his cape, but whether Lois Lane can ever pull out the kryptonite to cripple him if he ever turns into a villain.
