Nobody takes more punishment or more tirelessly attacks the rim than James. This would be a night to deal out the hurt, as the whole NBA stopped to watch the Cavaliers shift the regular-season balance of power with a 98-83 blitz of the struggling defending champions from Boston.

But James knew as much as anyone that nothing, except perhaps the snowy streets outside The Q, is really frozen in place in January.

"It's not just a January game," said James.

"But it's not like we or the Celtics control home-court [advantage] for the rest of the season [with a victory]."

Soon, out charged a team identified as the Cavaliers, wearing bright blue uniforms with gold and red piping, uniforms the team never wore before until Wednesday night's win over the Charlotte Bobcats.

So these are not throwback uniforms, except for just a teeny-weeny toss to the calendar's recent pages. They are manufactured so the Cavs can release their inner money-grubber. This is the Basketball equivalent of the Browns' chocolate pants.

Clothes, however, did not make the men.

In the first quarter, the Cavs made 13 of 18 shots, which can camouflage a lot of flaws. In due time, they would become more glaring.

James scored nine points and passed out four assists in the quarter - three of them for dunks or layups to three different teammates (Anderson Varejao, Ben Wallace and J.J. Hickson) and the other for a 3-pointer, to a fourth teammate (Wally Szczerbiak).

Shooting and passing, James accounted for 18 of the Cavs' 33 points.

Even when the Celtics were moving the ball like a chalkboard dream, with 21 assists on their first 23 baskets by the midpoint of the third quarter, James kept them at bay. This was even though the Cleveland offense had stepped into its own time machine and become an endlessly repeating pick-and-roll play with James and Varejao.

Usually, such a stagnant attack hurts a team. Except James always made the big play again and again.

He drove the lane, scoring left-handed, right-handed, double-clutching, taking punishment and tossing in shots on the way down as if gravity didn't count.

He hit 3-pointers. He swished one of those strength-balls only he can convert, muscling up a 16-foot jumper as Rajon Rondo hacked him on the way up.

Into the fourth quarter, and he hit with either hand, hit hangers, hit faders, hit 'em where they were and where they weren't.

James finished with 38 points (it should have been 41, a 45-footer in the fourth quarter was disallowed), with seven rebounds, six assists and utter domination of would-be archrival Paul Pierce.

And for all that, he did more. He also took defensive duty on Pierce after Pierce had burned first Delonte West and then Szczerbiak and threatened to get untracked.

Pierce was playing with a blue overcoat draped over him after that. He scored only 11 points.

At one point, James stepped into the passing lane, knocked away Pierce's pass, beat him to it in a furious crab scuttle on all fours, and finally slung it crosscourt and out of bounds in a failed save at the other end of the court. Only eight seconds remained on the shot clock, and the Celtics, starting under their own basket, could not get the ball up in time.

The din has seldom been louder after that hustle play.

Later, "MVP!" chants rose from the bedlam after James' more convoluted shots. The taunting sing-song of "Over-rated! Overrated!" serenaded the Celtics out into the wintry night.

They are two teams going in different directions. The player who defined their courses wore the (sort of) home colors.

To reach Bill Livingston: blivingston@plaind.com, 216-999-4672

Previous columns online: cleveland.com/columns