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Would Michael Jordan Let Someone Else Be Frontman?

This unlikely jazz combo comes from a Rémy Martin party last night, in celebration of Chris Bosh’s 28th birthday. (He’s the one on the left, for non-ESPN-watchers.) Naturally, LeBron James and Dwyane Wade tagged along, and before long the Heat’s big three had formed an impromptu jazz trio.

It’s always nice to see Wade showing off his bolero skills, but we’re more concerned with Mr. James’s position on the drums. There’s something troubling about seeing him there, the same feeling we’ve felt in more than a few Miami Heat games recently—a single, soul-consuming thought that explains the cloud of disappointment that’s followed King James his whole career.

Maybe LeBron James is a drummer at heart.

We know what we want from LeBron: Michael Jordan, circa 1987. It’s a high bar, but for most of his time in Cleveland, it seemed like LeBron was getting there. And yet...there was something missing. Call it “hunger” or “drive”—God knows enough sportswriters did—but it wasn’t that he didn’t try or didn’t care. Still, you never got the feeling you got from Jordan, when he took the game in his hands in the last 10 minutes and simply did whatever he wanted to do with the ball, the court and the scoreboard.

We always want that feeling from LeBron. Every time we see him, we think this might be the game—but it hasn’t happened yet. He’s just sitting back, keeping time. He’s still talented, brilliant even, but he’s not interested in grabbing the guitar or the microphone. Judging by the picture, maybe that’s what he wants.