The Mythology of Dion Waiters

Humanity has always required a scapegoat.

Try as we might to focus completely on the differences between us, we all share the need to explain our limited understanding of the universe. Stories have always narrowed the gap between the rational and the inexplicable, comforting words that help us feel just a little less small. And when things have gone bad, as they invariably do, someone must always be there to take the fall.

Along this particular web of the collective unconscious, the trickster tale are a prominent silken thread. Spun from Nordic winters or sweltering African summers, the trickster is both clever and foolish, helpful and unkind and, almost contradictorily, of vital importance. The word “trick” connotes an almost cruel sense of mischief. However, If used properly, the deception can lead to the creation of worlds, scattering of stars and bringing of fire to mankind.

The NBA is a culture unto itself. Gods and monsters. Legends and myths. Heroes and villains. And tricksters still abound, if you know where to look. During his brief career, Dion Waiters has been all of these things and more. The weight of expectation is a heavy one and Waiters’ actions, both on and off the court, have likely just added to the burden.

Similarly, the Coyote — not the animal but the mythological character — has come to embody many of these same traits. His importance is undeniable, an ubiquitous character in the mythologies of several North American tribes. Coyote’s shortcomings and wisdom are integral, a brook of color running through the grayscale background of our shared dreamscape.

Close your eyes and the two beings, Waiters and Coyote, can be seen balancing precariously along the same silken thread that binds us all.

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The great Spirit Chief had called all the animals together. The Chief announced that, with the arrival of People, every animal would need a new name. Some animals, like Coyote, had names while others did not. Coyote’s name meant “Imitator” and he grew tired of the insults and mistrust others had in him. He wanted a new name.

The Spirit Chief said that new names would be given out the following morning so Coyote decided he wouldn’t sleep and be the first of all the animals to arrive. He returned home and spent hours thinking of a new name but, after a while, he fell fast asleep.

When Coyote awoke the next morning, he rushed to find the Spirit Chief and, when he saw they were alone, he foolishly believed he was the first to be given a new name. He asked to be called several names, like Bear, Eagle or Salmon. These names, explained the Spirit Chief, had already been given out.

“Coyote,” said the Chief, “you must keep the name you have because it is the right one for you. Many bad things will affect the People and you must use your powers — your trickster medicine — to help them.

“You will be able to change shape and do many things but you will still be laughed at for the foolish things you do. That is your way.”

In the wake of LeBron James’ departure from the team in 2010, the Cleveland Cavaliers were left rebuilding and looking to regain some of their previous success. The Cavs had drafted Kyrie Irving in 2011 and, the following year, selected Waiters with the fourth overall pick of the 2012 NBA Draft.

Waiters had spent two seasons at Syracuse University. Many thought he might not be ready for the challenging transition of life in the NBA. Dion did not share that belief.

In the two-and-a-half seasons he spent with Cleveland, the legend of Waiters first began to take shape. There was an irascible charm to him; through a wry smile he delivered boasts that wavered between arrogance and absurdity. It was an edge reflective of his Philadelphia roots, a life marked with tragedy that went largely unreported. Instead, every overconfident statement was dissected at length and magnified with each loss earned by Cleveland’s underwhelming roster. He became a polarizing figure whose detractors pointed to production that didn’t quite match the accompanying attitude. Supporters who embraced the on-court chaos he embodied proudly staked a claim on Waiters Island.

Waiters’ bravado peaked in October 2014 when he flatly stated that he and Irving were “the best backcourt” in the league, a response directed toward Bradley Beal of the rival Washington Wizards. Sheer numbers aside, the statement was all the more surprising considering it came just months after an alleged locker room incident that left Irving with a black eye and broken nose.

It’s impossible to determine how much of the on-camera persona is indicative of the “real” Waiters but there’s a sense that he was trying desperately to play the part of franchise savior that he unwisely assumed (without necessarily being asked) at just 20 years old. Still, it’s worth noting that the confidence that so often fueled his critics is the kind of attitude that fans should expect of NBA players. How else could they survive the constant scrutiny?

It’s more likely equal parts bluster and bravery and, while Waiters may indeed be lacking self-awareness, the combination was more entertaining than anything else that happened during his stint with the Cavaliers.