In the modern NBA, stories aren’t just reported; they are curated, shaped, and sometimes completely rewritten. At the center of this media ecosystem sits the powerful influence of Klutch Sports, led by figures like Rich Paul and Maverick Carter. For years, they have mastered the art of steering the conversation around LeBron James, often shielding the superstar from criticism while amplifying his triumphs. However, a growing chorus of analysts and fans is beginning to push back against a recurring theme that seems to defy logic: the eternal “LeBron has no help” argument.

With the current Lakers roster featuring offensive juggernauts like Luka Doncic and Austin Reaves, the resurrection of this excuse has crossed the line from protective PR to gaslighting. It raises uncomfortable questions about accountability, historical revisionism, and the double standards applied to NBA legends.

The Moving Goalpost of “Help”

The core of the frustration lies in the sheer talent available on the current roster. By all metrics, having Luka Doncic and Austin Reaves alongside LeBron James should be considered a “super-team.” Both Doncic and Reaves are top-tier scorers, hovering around 30 points a night, providing a scoring luxury that no other team in the league possesses. For the average fan, this is the ultimate dream setup. Yet, the narrative emerging from LeBron’s camp suggests it is still not enough.

This creates an impossible standard. If playing alongside a perennial MVP candidate like Luka and a borderline All-NBA talent like Reaves doesn’t constitute “help,” then what does? The bar for a “supporting cast” has been raised to a level where a roster must be flawless, 10-out-of-10, with zero cracks, just for the superstar to compete. When expectations are this warped, every loss is externalized. It is never a failure of leadership or performance; it is always a failure of roster construction.

The Austin Reaves Dilemma

Perhaps the most baffling development is the recent buzz suggesting Austin Reaves should move to a “sixth man” role. This idea, reportedly floated by the same camp complaining about depth, defies basketball logic. Reaves has established himself as a starter with elite production. Suggesting that the solution to a team’s struggles is to bench one of its most consistent stars is backward thinking.

Comparisons to Manu Ginobili and the Spurs dynasty are often used to justify this potential move, but the context is entirely different. Ginobili and the Spurs embraced a system built on balance and shared sacrifice. In the current Lakers scenario, moving Reaves to the bench feels less like a strategic masterstroke and more like a way to shuffle blame. You do not fix depth issues by suppressing your best talent; you fix it by maximizing the chemistry of your stars.

The Role Player Graveyard

A deeper look at the roster reveals a troubling pattern regarding role players. Before LeBron’s reintegration into the lineup, players like Marcus Smart and Jake LaRavia were flourishing. Smart was locked in defensively and contributing consistent offense, while LaRavia saw his production and confidence jump with expanded minutes. They looked like different players—rhythmic, confident, and effective.

However, the moment the rotation tightened to accommodate the returning superstar, their impact vanished. Minutes were chopped, rhythm was lost, and suddenly, the team was plagued by “depth issues.” This cycle is familiar: role players are often the first to be thrown under the bus when chemistry falters. But the evidence suggests that the issue isn’t the talent level of the bench; it’s the system that fails to elevate them when the “Big Three” are on the floor.

The Accountability Double Standard

The most glaring issue highlighted by critics is the shift in accountability regarding the “third option.” NBA history is clear: the third option on a super-team usually becomes the scapegoat. We saw this vividly in 2022 with Russell Westbrook. Despite being a Hall of Famer, Westbrook was torched by the media and the fanbase for every Lakers loss. There was no mercy, no context, and no hesitation.

Fast forward to the present, where LeBron James effectively operates as the third option behind Luka and Reaves in scoring output. Logically, the same rules should apply. If the team fails, the third option should shoulder a significant portion of the blame. Instead, the narrative flips. Now, the arguments are, “He’s old,” “He’s in year 20,” or “You can’t blame the third guy.”

This flip-flop reveals a calculated protection of legacy. When the hierarchy benefits the star, the third option is the problem. When the star is the third option, the problem is the roster. This hypocrisy is becoming impossible to ignore for objective basketball observers.

Disappearing in the Clutch

Ultimately, narratives can only hide so much. The game tape from recent playoff losses paints a stark picture. In critical moments—specifically Game 1 and Game 4 of the recent series—the breakdown wasn’t on the role players or the young stars. It was a failure at the top.

In Game 1, a must-win at home, Luka Doncic delivered 37 points like clockwork. Meanwhile, the team’s veteran leadership failed to match the moment. Game 4 was even more damning. With the series hanging in the balance, LeBron went scoreless in the fourth quarter, posting zero points and committing a brutal turnover. These are the “swing moments” that decide series. While it is fair to critique Luka or Reaves for not being perfect, ignoring the “no-shows” from the supposed greatest player of all time is disingenuous.

Conclusion

The machinery behind modern NBA narratives is powerful, capable of remixing history—like turning the Miami Heat “Big Three” era into a story of “minimum guys”—to suit the present. But facts remain stubborn. The current Lakers roster is not an underdog story; it is a collection of elite talent that is underperforming. Blaming “length, speed, and athleticism” or casting doubt on teammates’ winning impact acts as a smokescreen.

If the goal is to win championships, the focus must shift from protecting a legacy to embracing reality. The “no help” card has expired. With Luka Doncic and Austin Reaves on the floor, the help is there. The question is no longer about who is surrounding the King, but whether the King can still lead the charge without the kingdom crumbling around him.