Behind the Scenes of LeBron Being Crowned the NBA’s Scoring King

For a brief moment, LeBron James, fading yet balanced, hung in the air alongside history. That second after the ball left his fingertips and fell through the bottom of the net was all it took for the past to accumulate into the present, for the two points that made him the best scorer in history to remind you that there were 38,386 that came before.

All those points played through my mind at once, like an animation flip-book shuffling from start to finish, the ones in which the artist adds imperceptible variations that, over time, reveal progress. This is how LeBron has evolved too, maintaining his essence while changing to keep up with the demands of the league.

After making history Tuesday, albeit in a three-point loss to the Oklahoma City Thunder, James sat at the podium and reflected on his NBA debut, 19 and a half years ago inside what was then called ARCO Arena, as an 18-year-old member of the Cleveland Cavaliers. He joked that the cameramen definitely broke the rules taping him while he stretched, that even though they filmed him so closely they didn’t capture his nervousness. “I didn’t want to let my people down in my hometown,” he says. “I knew the expectations that were on me, that were out of this world. I knew there were so many people looking for me to fail.”

He centered himself with a belief he’d cling to through his career: that he was taught to play the game the right way. “One thing I’ve learned from being in the NBA over 20 years,” James says, hesitating then laughing, “is there’s a lot of people not teaching the game the right way, and I knew I came from a group of guys and coaches that taught us to play the game the right way, and no matter how many times I’ve heard ‘why didn’t he take the shot?’ or ‘why did he pass to an open teammate?’ or ‘why did he do this or that?’ I never wavered because I knew for sure that was the right way to play the game.”

Nowadays, stars who don’t pass out of double-teams are blasted for being selfish. James’s way of reading the floor has become the model, as have other things he’s been criticized for: superstars switching teams, exerting their power, and building their brands. Some even consider his team switching to be further evidence of his excellence—the fact that he’s won championships with three different teams is proof that his greatness shines through in all scenarios. James has reimagined the way basketball is played on the court and the way stars have conducted themselves off it.

The secret: He’s stubborn about his convictions, but he’s not blind to his flaws. He has always loved the game enough to learn from it. The free- throw line fadeaway that put him ahead of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in the third quarter, for instance, wasn’t in his bag when he entered the NBA. James’s first Finals loss, in 2007, came against a Spurs team that understood this and camped underneath the basket while he unsuccessfully barrelled toward the rim. Rep by rep, he slowly mastered that shot, getting his revenge against San Antonio in the 2013 NBA Finals. It’s been a staple since, one of many subtle evolutions that’s allowed him to maintain this elevated perch long enough to even dream of breaking a record that seemed unbreakable when it was set 39 years ago.

“I know a lot of people wanted me to go to the sky hook to break the record, or one of my signature dunks,” James said after the game, “but my fadeaway is a signature play as well.”

One of the most memorable things about the enduring image from the “Last Shot,” Michael Jordan’s famed game-winner in the 1998 Finals, is the faces in the opposing crowd, cowering in terror before the shot even hit its apex. The background of a similar photo of James’s shot features a crowd full of people mediating the experience through a camera lens, trying to capture a moment that hundreds of professional photographers will immortalize anyway. I did it too. So did James’s sons, Bronny and Bryce. A home game in February isn’t supposed to be an exact replica of a Finals game winner, but the faces reflected the gravity of who Jordan was, who we were, just like they do here.

Photo by Andrew D. Bernstein/NBAE via Getty Images

From the moment LeBron arrived in an all-black suit on Tuesday, the expectations and eyeballs were locked on him. An event like this is why people congregate to watch sports, why courtside seats were going for $100,000. It’s the chance to witness history, to say you were there. Denzel Washington, Jay-Z, Bad Bunny, Floyd Mayweather, and James’s best bud Dwyane Wade were courtside. So was Clippers coach Tyronn Lue, who helped James bring Cleveland a championship in 2016.

The restaurant reservations were made; the Nike commercial taped. Drake even pre-taped a congratulatory (and cringey) message. LeBron’s mom flew in. So did Big Frankie, a.k.a. Frank Walker, the coach who took him in when his mom was struggling to make ends meet, introduced him to basketball, and taught him to use his left hand, to make the right play, to do his chores everyday. Those chores would eventually become the famous rest and recovery regimen he consistently does with Mike Mancias, his trainer since he was a rookie, that’s allowed him to be this durable this long. Of course, Maverick Carter, Rich Paul, Randy Mims—the foundations of the business empire that Phil Jackson once derisively referred to as his posse—were there. James’s wife and kids were too. All that was left for James to do was break the record.

A gold pin on LeBron’s lapel read “Stay Present.” After the game, he laughed and admitted that he was trying to break the record against the Thunder.

“My boys leave on a red-eye tomorrow night. I had that mindset, I dressed for the occasion, and put on the headband because that’s where it started.” If the message seems contradictory, it felt like it at first.

When the game began, James looked like he was forcing the issue. He overcommitted on a drive in transition and turned the ball over on a late pass. The Thunder, wise to James’s intentions, doubled and overloaded his side of the floor. You started to wonder whether the basketball gods would punish LeBron’s deliberate decisions in a game that thrives on flow.

But James settled in, whipping a few passes out of the post to open shooters and reminding the Thunder what NBA defenses have known for over a decade: The best option is usually to let him score. The floor opened up, James found his range, got going in transition, and when he reached 36, hopped triumphantly to the other side of the court with his arms in the air.

With 10 seconds left in the quarter, the game was stopped. It was a fitting halt, because not much that happened last night was really about the game anyways. Cameramen spilled onto the court like it was the NBA Finals. James started waving his arms like he was orchestrating a play-call, telling his family and friends to join him on the court. With his family beside him, James looked overwhelmed with happiness. Adam Silver seemingly materialized out of thin air. Abdul-Jabbar stood beside him, preparing to pass a ceremonial ball to James. This didn’t happen when he broke the record in 1984, and it wasn’t just a consequence of James’s orchestration. This was an NBA production.

In an age when nothing worth accomplishing can go without documentation, performance and pageantry are inextricably linked. But that doesn’t mean the tears streaming down his face weren’t real.

James thanked Lakers fans, asked them to give the Captain—the nickname of Abdul-Jabbar, with whom he reportedly has a testy relationship—a standing ovation. He then thanked everyone he was supposed to thank, and he meant it. Finally, he slipped up, overcome with the moment. “Fuck, man” he says, the placeholder expression for something that you can’t find the language for. “Thank you, guys.”

“Seeing my family and my friends,” James said afterward, “people that’s been around me since I started this journey, before the NBA, so I definitely had a moment right there, very emotional—just being a kid from a small town in Ohio.”

But the NBA world still turns. As I’m typing this, Skip Bayless is likely outlining his screed against James’s use of profanity, and it will hardly be the only nit he can pick. Lost in all this: The Thunder and the Lakers are neck and neck in the standings, both just outside of play-in territory. Tuesday was a historic night for the Lakers, but it also resulted in a loss. The outcome of this game could have real consequences come April.

With a little less than three minutes left in the game, Russell Westbrook threw an errant lob to Anthony Davis and turned it over. Everyone went back to shaking their heads in long-established frustration, remembering just how big a mess this Lakers season has been. Fans, having already seen what they came to see, started heading toward the exits.

There are times when James’s stubbornness gets the best of him. He campaigned for Westbrook to be traded to L.A. two seasons ago, while the rest of the NBA scratched their heads about the fit. At multiple junctures this season, he’s tried to spin Westbrook into Kyrie Irving, another vexing, talented point guard talent who LeBron seems to think he can handle. After the Mavericks traded for Irving, LeBron talked about being disappointed the team didn’t trade for him while simultaneously saying the Lakers just need to get their chemistry right in the same interview, without seeming to understand the irony. I guess that’s the thing with getting older: You have to learn to live with the messes you create for yourself. When James broke the record, Davis sat on the bench while the rest of the team celebrated, and nobody is really sure why. He’s only 29, though, with one ring to James’s four. He didn’t sign up for a nostalgia tour.

Before the season, Lakers owner Jeanie Buss emphasized the meaning this record would have for the Lakers franchise. Now that it’s finally happened, the franchise is left with a mediocre team and 36 hours before the trade deadline, its last chance to make it all better. The Lakers, steeped in the past, got their moment. But the Thunder got the win, and hold a stronger claim on the future.

In the locker room after the game with ice wrapped around his knees, Bronny showed his dad the video he captured on his iPhone. “You knew,” he asks his son, “the fade was coming?” When the shot fell, they laughed in unison. “That’s tough,” James said. “You got that saved? Send that to me.” It was, no matter the lens, a beautiful moment.