Constitute a Plane

Good things and bad things both happen in three. So do deaths, and celebrity deaths, which may or may not be transferable categories. There is no question that three is a magical number, one that has echoed throughout human history and systems of belief as both structurally perfect and aesthetically glorious. It makes you wonder why, at various junctures in the NBA’s lifespan, the media has settled for the half-assed “Big Three.” If it comes to pass, the Tree People Cartel of LeBron, Wade, and Bosh in Miami needs a bigger, better name that expressed exactly what forces are unlocked when three join forces. The running favorite thus far seems to be “The Triumvirate”. We have chosen to examine this option, and several others, to see if the pieces fit.



Triumvirate: This is the default name, so it falls upon us to point out the unfortunate fact that the first triumvirate of Julius Caesar, Pompey, and Marcus Crassus was a secret political pact between the three bigwigs for much of its seven-year life. It was also an uneasy alliance with perpetual in-fighting, which became clear in 53 BC when Crassus died and Pompey and Caesar almost immediately started fighting for total control of the budding empire. This is the analogy for people who think the three stars’ egos would almost immediately doom what looks amazing on paper. Still, some of the correspondences work. LeBron is obviously Caesar, a man of overpowering ambition who wants to remake the world in his image as others (Alexander the Great, Michael Jordan) have done before. That makes Wade Pompey, a superstar in his own right who would be forced to play second fiddle because of circumstances, not a lack of talent. If there were to be a big blow-up in Miami, it’d be between these two. That leaves Bosh to function as Crassus, an important figure who is nonetheless likely to fall into the margins of history as the other two stars garner most of the attention. Let’s revisit this one if the trio fails miserably. It is currently too negative to describe a scenario with such amazing potential. (Eric Freeman)



The Holy Trinity: Before anyone freaks out and burns my head on a popsicle stick, remember, this whole summer has a messianic tinge to it, and LeBron’s been as embodying various modes of divinity since he was 16. This is the most famous three-part entity ever, too, which should make it an obvious choice. Except upon further inspection, it doesn’t really work. LeBron has to be the Son, since that’s buried somewhere deep inside his brand DNA. The Holy Ghost, which is of course not a ghost but a mystical presence, is generally represented in all post-Renaissance art as a glowing dove. That seems to go with Chris Bosh, who is both one of those players who fills in gaps (when in the presence of other stars) and isn’t possessed of the most aggro personality. But he still plays in the paint, or near it, which conflicts with everything we know about birds, as animals and as metaphors for people. What really drags this one down, though, is Dwyane Wade as The Father. His authority is earned and re-earned with each staggering move, not projected as a matter of fact -- that’s more something a big man, or less unpredictable guard, would do. Plus, even if you understand the Trinity as devoid of hierarchy, there’s still an implied “Jesus happened later,” and that’s at odds with the modern notions of progress we apply to sports. To us, LeBron is progress over all else. To God, it was progress to become mortal and get murdered. Good thing that bird was hanging around to light the way. (Bethlehem Shoals)



The Summit at Yalta: It’s got “Summit” in the title, which is cool, since other than “Triumvirate” no fancy-sounding word has been thrown around more in reference to this off-season. Also, if anyone cares, Eric and I both made this joke independent of each other, a testament to the depth of our friendship (or the limits of our wit, or the formulaic nature of all things FD). Maybe not so catchy, though, in name alone. “Yalta” would suffice, I suppose. As for the principals? The fact that one All-Star will be stuck playing the role of a demented genocidal maniac makes this a hard sell. Plus, there’s that innate human attraction to hierarchy. Sorry, other countries, but at this point in time the USA had taken its rightful place atop the heap of nations. That would automatically make LeBron into FDR, even though a bold, benevolent cripple doesn’t really reflect the man or his game. Maybe James is Stalin, if nothing else for the damage he can so readily inflict upon everyone else on the floor. Wade, with his backlog of injuries and fashion sense that at least references the world of blue bloods that FDR sprang from, works well as Roosevelt. His style, which prizes grand gestures over meting out elastic punishment, seems more in keeping with the President’s leadership style (and more convincingly puts Bron in his place as Stalin). Bosh may not be the master orator, humorist, or generally outsize human being that Churchill was. But like Britain, he’s the odd man out here, the one who has has beaten down and nearly defeated and needs more than anyone for this pact to restore his dignity. The slow break-up with the international-minded Raptors = Britain’s empire once and for all dwindling away. (BS)



The Three Special Triangles: Basketball is a sport with geometry built into its foundations, even if we don’t always acknowledge it. And while it may seem difficult to compare basketball players to shapes, several correspondences fit quite well. LeBron is obviously the equilateral triangle, a shape without flaw that embodies perfection we have come to assume only exists in the divine. Wade is the isosceles, a near-perfect shape with only minor faults (the unequal side, Dwyane’s penchant for getting injured) in its attempt for equalaterality. Sadly, Bosh cannot be the right triangle. His well-rounded game cannot be seen in a shape with such a sharp angle; it’s for a role player, not a lanky star. Trying to put him in a role that doesn’t suit him would simply be obtuse. (EF)



Chimera: The chimera wasn’t actually three things (nor was the Trinity, exactly, but that’s a finer point). However, on a perfect basketball team, players achieve the synergy of oneness, a unity of performance that elides anything like ego or selfish demands. Thus, behold, a monster of myth and legend that combined that best—and some might say, the worst—qualities of a lion, snake, and goat. LeBron is the lion. He likes lions, and his name begins with an “L”. Plus, the lion has a head and body on there, indicative of the many ways James can contribute to the team. In strict, formal terms, no player has ever been more torso-like than LeBron, as he literally fills out the tasks a basketball team must execute like few players in the game’s history. Wade is the serpent, a deadly weapon coiled to strike, quick and decisive but not exactly the hub of activity. Also, the snake is a phallic symbol, and everyone knows D-Wade gets around. Bosh is the goat; people seem to dislike him, which means if this goes sour, it will be his fault for lacking toughness (no one understands it in the goat, either!). Also, the goat improbably juts out of the lion’s body, much in the same way that Bosh’s low post game will serve as an appendage of whatever James decides to do with the paint at any given moment. The perfect big man for LeBron is a skilled one capable of matching his skill level and physical ability, but sublimating his need to be anything more than a fantastic appendage. No, that’s not another dick joke. Think Nash and Amar’e, if Nash were more generally commanding and Amar’e more understated and steady. If only there were some wings on this thing. (BS)



Charmed: The strength of the sister witches was based on “The Power of Three,” and since teams are like families, this is a natural comparison. Upon closer inspection, though, it doesn’t hold . At first glance, LeBron would seem to be Shannen Doherty, the dependable, talented leader of the group. But Miami will likely remain Wade’s team, so perhaps he should be Doherty. But where does that put LeBron? He is certainly not Holly Marie Combs, who never stood out in any season and only registered as the one who would nag her husband for wearing white robes with the other White Lighters. And what of Alyssa Milano, who lacked discipline and needed to learn the value of responsibility? Surely none of these established stars could be spoken of in such a way, and Rudy Gay was never going to be in this group. Plus, Bosh looks more like one of the demons that the sisters vanquished with poorly rendered CGI. There are no easy comparisons here, just as there is no way to easily deal with the fact that Milano turned into a mermaid and wants to live in the sea. (Note: If you are a fan of post-Doherty seasons, substitute Milano for Doherty and Rose McGowan for Milano.) (EF)



John Coltrane, Pharaoh Sanders, Albert Ayler: In 1967, not long after Coltrane’s death, Marxist free jazz critic Franz Kofsky quoted Ayler as calling Coltrane “the father,” Trane’s sidekick Sanders “the son,” and himself “the Holy Ghost.” This one is in serious trouble from the beginning, since it’s essentially a metaphor built on the back of another. Let’s not even bother with discerning whether this works against the original, religious formation. Not because we couldn’t, or didn’t already type it up before deleting it, but because if that’s the basis for inclusion, this one might be a loser right off the jump. Instead, let’s just compare musicians the ballers. LeBron and Coltrane are a good fit, as both combine the magisterial with the truly expressive. Wade as Sanders, the hell-raising wingman, is great, and for all we know Wade could end up with Eryakh Badu, wear a knit arm sleeve, and start celebrating Blackness after every dunk. Bosh as Ayler? That’s all wrong. If Sanders pushed Coltrane while living under his roof, Ayler—like the actual Holy Ghost—was floating in the air as both insinuation and untapped energy. He was possibility, freedom, and maybe even impossible to pin down. That’s Anthony Randolph, and unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll see James, Wade, and Randolph coming out of this summer as anyone’s Team of Titans. (BS)