King James

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The numbers back the coach's claim: James is a clear-cut MVP candidate. Wearing a protective mask on his face after breaking a cheekbone in late December, he's averaging 24.7 points, 7.2 rebounds and 7.3 assists per game for the surprising Cavs, who missed the play-offs last year but are now 24-15, tied for the second-best record in the ragged, rugged Eastern Conference (two seasons ago, pre-James, the Cavs finished 17-65). Last season, at age 19, James joined Jordan and Oscar Robertson, the game's two greatest all-around players, as only the third rookie ever to average more than 20 points, five rebounds and five assists per game. Says Hubie Brown, the 2004 NBA Coach of the Year and now a commentator for ABC: "Don't be putting his name in any sentence with anybody else."

While James' hellacious dunks evoke Jordan, his height and court vision more closely mirror those of another great, Magic Johnson, leader of the Los Angeles Lakers' "showtime" offense of the 1980s. "Every day I go to practice, I see LeBron make two passes, or do something, that I've never seen before," says Cleveland general manager Jim Paxon, a former pro. "You just shake your head and go, 'Thank God he's playing for us.'"

Early in his life, there was little hope that James would rescue any team. He was the one who needed help. He and his mother Gloria jumped from apartment to apartment in Akron--in fourth grade, says James, he missed more than 80 days of school. He then moved in with the family of his peewee football coach, Frankie Walker, which, James says, "turned my life around." He didn't miss a day of class in fifth grade, and he calls his perfect-attendance certificate the most important award he has ever received. Walker's wife Pam helped Gloria find a permanent apartment for herself and LeBron; a few growth spurts later, James lives in an 11-bedroom, 12,611-sq.-ft. mansion just outside Akron.

Despite his wealth and fame, James has managed a rare balance, avoiding both the hometown distractions and a superstar cocoon. Three neighborhood friends form his tight inner circle (they call themselves the Four Horsemen). After a Cavs game three weeks ago, James telephoned the St. Vincent-St. Mary High librarian--a woman who had used books to shield him from fans who would wander into the cafeteria for his autograph--just to catch up.

Outside the library, James is defined by his Jordanesque intensity. Like Mike, LeBron plays cards, and he won't ante up just for fun. "That's the only way it should be--you gotta be competitive," James told TIME. "It doesn't matter what I'm doing--just playing cards, just playing video games, if it's playing horse. I don't want to lose." Like Mike, James can also hold a grudge. "I don't have time to give people second chances," he says. "My life is going too fast."