When a pulmonary embolism left Mirza Teletović untouchable on the open market, LeBron James called his agent and offered him a lifeline in Cleveland.
Teletović’s rise from Tuzla to the NBA was fueled by relentlessness, stretch-four range, fearlessness, and a shooter’s conscience that could flip a game in minutes. Then came the collapse. A pulmonary embolism isn’t just “an injury.” It’s a medical emergency. Blood clots in the lungs mean uncertainty, anticoagulants, and a hard pause on the one thing that had defined his adult life. Teams weren’t just hesitant; many wouldn’t touch the risk at all.
For a player in his prime, being told you’re too dangerous to employ cuts deeper than any scouting report. It’s not about a role or a system anymore, it’s about mortality, responsibility, and insurance clauses. The silence from front offices can feel louder than any arena.
“Few people know who King James is,” Teletović wrote. “After my pulmonary embolism, when no one wanted to sign me, he called my agent and offered to play with him in Cleveland.”
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Strip away the headlines and that sentence lands like a hand on the shoulder. LeBron didn’t owe Teletović anything. They weren’t teammates, and they weren’t part of the same franchise tree. In fact, they had history on the other side of the line, hard playoff-style collisions, a dust-up when Teletović was with Brooklyn, the kind of moments fans remember as friction.
It’s easy to mistake the NBA for a nonstop talent market, contracts, cap sheets, and depth charts. But there’s a quieter code among players who’ve survived the churn. They remember who called when the phone had stopped ringing. They remember who saw them as more than a risk profile. A pulmonary embolism changes how you’re perceived; a call like LeBron’s changes how you perceive yourself.
This wasn’t charity. It was respect. Respect for the grind it took Teletović to reach the league. Respect for the way he could swing a game when he saw one drop, the shooter’s courage that never really leaves. And respect for the person under the jersey, husband, father, son, staring down uncertainty.
Teletović did find his way back, carving out a meaningful second act and reminding everyone what a hot hand can look like after a brush with fragility. That matters, because the story isn’t just, “LeBron offered.” It’s, “Someone believed, and the belief aligned with reality.” There’s a different kind of validation in proving you’re not your medical file.
