When "Rise Up" was the Cavaliers' playoff slogan a few years ago, it often seemed the Angel of the Baseline was all that brought LeBron James back to his feet. Actually, it seemed that way during other seasons, too. He would fall beneath the basket after taking a hard foul on another barreling drive to the rim, and he would writhe in pain. The mere thought of how much force it took to poleax a superbly conditioned 6-8, 255-pound man like James was staggering. He would roll on the floor, grimacing. The team trainer would soon be at his side and, sometimes, the entire bench would empty as concerned Cavaliers teammates looked on. And then, he would rise up and continue to lay a personal statistical orgy on the box score. Grit and pluck had triumphed again. "Well, whaddaya know? He's OK," a cynical Boston fan shouted, nearly in my ear, after James' histrionics during the narrow Cavs loss in Boston two years ago. "Who could have possibly expected that?" the leather-lunged heckler screamed. http://www.cleveland.com/livingston/index.ssf/2010/05/lebron_james_is_hurting_and_ne.html
