I need you to watch this 13-second video of ESPN commentator Stephen A. Smith walking to his courtside seat at a Los Angeles Lakers game. I need you to notice how Smith, perhaps the biggest voice in sports—in sheer decibels, if not reach—savors the see-and-be-seen pleasures of the courtside experience. That was two years ago. Now imagine how he might have floated into the Lakers’ home arena the night of March 6. Only hours earlier, it had been reported that ESPN had agreed to a new contract with Smith worth more than $100 million. To celebrate, Smith’s agent, Ari Emanuel, had invited him to the game. Larry David would join them courtside, near the end of the Lakers bench. This should have been the perfect atmosphere for Smith to revel in his ascent to the pinnacle of sports media. Instead, his night took a bad turn.

Early in the game, Smith made eye contact with Bronny James, a rookie reserve guard on the Lakers and, crucially, the son of the Lakers’ star LeBron James. Bronny has had a rough season. He has been dogged by accusations that he would not be playing in the NBA were it not for his last name. On the road, opposing crowds engage in mocking chants, begging the Lakers coach to put him in. In January, he had his worst game of the season; in 15 minutes, he missed all of his shots and turned the ball over three times. The next morning, on First Take, ESPN’s flagship morning show, Smith made Bronny the subject of one of his trademark rants. For more than four uninterrupted minutes, he pleaded with LeBron—as a father—to stop exposing his son. “Stop this,” he said. “Stop this.”

LeBron does not seem to have taken kindly to Smith’s unsolicited counsel. At the March 6 game, near the end of the third quarter, he approached Smith in his courtside seat. Looming over Smith in a manner that does not usually accompany friendly chatter, he barked something. His exact words can’t be heard in a fan video of the encounter, but his menacing tone is legible. According to Smith’s account of the exchange, LeBron said, “Stop fucking with my son. That’s my son.”

Smith did not respond to a request for comment. Neither did LeBron, so the details of what he said that night are unconfirmed. But even going by the body language and by related comments that LeBron later made on a hot mic, it does appear that his goal was to intimidate. By confronting Smith, LeBron sent a message not just to Smith but also to members of the wider NBA press corps, few of whom have Smith’s stature and influence: Criticize my son, and there will be consequences. Like many rich and powerful people, LeBron seems to want the fruits of global media stardom for himself and his kids, but not the corresponding scrutiny.

LeBron has himself to blame for the sad media spectacle of Bronny’s first season. In the months leading up to last year’s NBA draft, Bronny told reporters that it was his life’s great dream to be drafted by a pro team, any team. In off-the-record interviews, league executives made clear that because Bronny does not have his dad’s skill or size, he wasn’t all that draftable. In his short career at the University of Southern California, which was interrupted by a scary incident of cardiac arrest, he averaged only 5 points a game.

By all appearances, it was LeBron who made sure Bronny got drafted, first by puffing him up, saying publicly that his son was already better than many active NBA players. LeBron also made it known that he himself would play for whichever team drafted Bronny. (No prospect has ever been packaged so attractively, with the NBA’s first or second all-time best player as a throw-in.) On draft day, the Lakers selected Bronny in the second round. That night, Bronny shed tears; his dream had come true. At a press conference a few days later, the team’s coach, JJ Redick, tried to quiet any doubts. Bronny had earned the pick, he said, with hard work.

At the time, some of LeBron’s critics saw this as contemptible. I wasn’t one of them. Why appoint yourself to the meritocracy police just to make LeBron and his son your first arrests? LeBron’s own father was never in his life. He was still sleeping on friends’ couches late into his childhood. Parenthood means something deep to him; he has described playing with his son as the biggest accomplishment of a career that includes four NBA titles and four MVP awards. There was something beautiful about him using the leverage that he’s amassed in the basketball world to make that happen, by dragging his first-born boy into the league. Was it nepotism? Sure, but human life is shot through with all kinds of advantages of birth, and Bronny’s didn’t seem the most important or unfair.

LeBron deserves some empathy, even in the way he dealt with Smith. Nearly all parents experience something akin to his naive desire, a wish to give their kid the future of their dreams while shielding them from pain and disappointment. LeBron may have felt some anguish as he watched his son this season. Few things are as excruciating as watching your kids suffer. No amount of money or fame can insure against it. LeBron may well be haunted by his role in bringing about that suffering.

But even one of the greatest athletes of our age doesn’t—and certainly shouldn’t—have the power to protect his adult son from criticism. Indeed, what power LeBron has derives from the intense public curiosity about him as a basketball player and as a person. He was able to conjure a plus-one for a family member on an NBA roster precisely because he has been the league’s main character for a generation now. The media were always going to be interested in Bronny’s performance on the court, even if he’d made it there according to his own ability—and all the more so because he seemingly did not.

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LeBron has had more exposure to the NBA’s media ecosystem than any other active player. He knows that it rewards viral rants that lionize or denigrate a player based on their most recent game. And he should have known that Bronny would not be exempt from that dynamic, no matter how fiercely his father was protecting him.

Now, by appearing to threaten Smith, LeBron has not only acted like a petty strongman; he has drawn new attention to his son’s disappointing season, enlarging the very story that he sought to suppress. It’s a rare misstep for someone so media-savvy, who has amassed an enormous personal fortune while staying almost entirely scandal-free across a long career that began when he was still a teenager. The mistake is, perhaps, understandable. The emotions of parenthood are gigantic. They can knock anyone off their game, even the great LeBron James.

Illustration Sources: Tim Heitman / Getty; Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times via Getty; Nathaniel S. Butler / Getty.