I was a Lakers fan for most of my life. I remember listening to Jerry and Wilt on the radio as they strung together a 33-game winning streak that remains unequaled to this day.

I remember seeing Magic Johnson go off for 42 points for the Lakers in a clinching Game 6 against the 76ers. As a rookie. Playing center in place of the irreplaceable Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

I remember the 2001 Kobe-Shaq Lakers barreling through the playoffs with just a single loss in 16 games.

I remember Kobe Bryant’s 60-point farewell performance.

This year, LeBron James helped the Lakers win their 17th title, tying them with the Boston Celtics for the most ever. And I couldn’t get excited.

Some people are lauding James for becoming the first player ever to win a championship with three different teams. But that’s just the problem. This isn’t a Lakers championship so much as it’s LeBron James taking his mercenary act to yet another city. He’s been in Los Angeles for two years; his co-star of choice, Anthony Davis, has been there for one.

They would have had the same success playing anywhere else together.

Legendary coattails

Yes, the 1972 championship team traded for Wilt to help them win, but that was his fourth season with a Lakers team that had been to the Finals a year before he arrived. After that, they traded for Kareem, but didn’t win a title with him until Magic arrived, via the draft.

Wilt played five seasons with the Lakers. Shaquille O’Neal played eight seasons with the Lakers. Magic Johnson played 13 seasons in the NBA, all of them with the Lakers. Kareem played 14 of his 20 seasons in L.A. Kobe Bryant was a Laker for 20 years, and never played for another team. These players gave their teams identities that endured long after their careers ended.

LeBron will always be LeBron first. A Laker, no better than third. Anthony Davis may or may not stick around.

When the Golden State Warriors began their run, they made two straight Finals — and won one — with a core trio (Stephen Curry, Klay Thompson, and Draymond Green) that helped them record for wins during a regular season. They went to three more Finals with the help of their own mercenary, Kevin Durant, but he’s come and gone now, and the three core players remain.

When I grew up in Los Angeles, I was a fan of a Dodgers baseball team that started the same four infielders for nine consecutive years. That was unusual, even back then.

But players change teams so often these days that keeping a core group of stars is unusual. To be clear, I don’t blame them: Like anyone else, NBA athletes should be able to work for whoever, wherever they want within the bounds of the salary cap. More power to ’em. But they can’t expect fans to form the kind of allegiance to teams that we had to Red Auerbach’s Celtics or the Showtime Lakers if they only stick around for a cup of coffee.

What more do you want?

James put an exclamation point on his mercenary status when he said, after winning the series MVP award, “I want my damn respect, too.”

I can’t imagine players from any of the teams that won titles wedging an “I” into “team” like that. But it shows where James’ priorities as a basketball player lie. His on-court whining after virtually every call that doesn’t go his way bespeaks that very same attitude of entitlement. So did his reaction (“It pissed me off”) to someone else, Giannis Antetokounmpo, winning the regular-season MVP award.  

All this pouting and preening is rather odd, because for one thing, I don’t know of anyone who disrespects — or could disrespect — James’ achievements on the court. His record speaks for itself. And it’s even weirder because, off the court, James seems to be the exact opposite of the entitled crybaby he appears to be on the court. Indeed, he has shown that he cares about the bigger picture by being at the forefront of efforts to help kids, promote voting rights, and advocate for social equality and justice.

He hasn’t demanded respect for any of that. He does it because it’s the right thing to do, even though he doesn’t get a lot of credit for it, and even though he’s put a lot of his own money into it.

But somehow, playing his best because it’s the right thing to do isn’t enough. He has to demand respect for that. Even though it puts him in the spotlight and he gets paid handsomely for it.

There’s a huge disconnect here. It’s almost like these are two different people.

It’s why I admire the LeBron James who gives of himself and fights for his fellow human beings off the court. Not so much: the LeBron James who complains about every call that doesn’t go his way, flexes his muscles like a WWE caricature, and demands respect he’s already getting.

It’s also why the 1972 Lakers, Showtime, and Kobe Bryant’s teams are enduring symbols of the franchise’s greatness (not to mention George Mikan’s Minneapolis teams). LeBron James’ mercenary 2020 season, by contrast, is just a flash of Heat in the pan of a Cavalier career.