It seems unfair to grill LeBron James for getting his first car when, even though he's still in high school, he has to go through his first NBA coaching change. I mean, if you're 18 years old and you already have that on your C.V., you deserve a nice ride.

	John Lucas is regarded as a player's coach, but he won't be around to coach LeBron James if the Cavs win the lottery.

The Cleveland Cavaliers, the team best positioned to draft James this summer, just fired head coach John Lucas, the man who made the most immediate impression upon James of any Cav employee.

The reason for Lucas' firing was Cleveland's hideous record ... which was the entire point of the exercise, we thought. Lose, lose and lose again, get the most Ping-Pong balls, get one picked, scoop up the local phenom and march boldly into the next era of Cav-dom.

That, or turn into the Nuggets once and for all.

But the Cavs' problems don't interest us as much as James' reaction to those problems. It can be said that today, rather than the day the Hummer showed up in the driveway, is the day we can say to him, "LeBron, you are now a man."

Some firings don't have much reverb, we must admit. Dick LeBeau's dismissal from the Cincinnati Bengals was neither much noted nor regretted, even though LeBeau did nothing more egregious than play a dreadful hand to the best of his ability.

On the other hand, there is the firing of Steve Mariucci in San Francisco a week ago for various vaguely specified crimes, misdemeanors and playing the tuba too loud during meetings.

It seems that most of the 49er players thought the firing was (a) unwarranted, (b) nuts and (c) a harbinger of lousy times ahead. They had come to think that football came first with their team, only to discover that it has been downgraded to second, or perhaps even third -- behind an owner's prerogative and keeping the Office Max bill down.

They, too, discovered the hard way that coaches are sometimes shown the door for succeeding as well as failing. Much like Dusty Baker's exit after the Giants lost the World Series. Or Art Howe's departure after he failed to get the A's there.

	LeBron James has had a lot of growing up to do this past year.

James, though, is that rarest of avians -- someone who gets to feel the sting of a firing even before he gets to join the firm.

The only equivalent we can find is that of the college recruit who signs a national letter of intent, then finds out that the coach who charmed the apple brown betty off his mom's table has just taken another job.

But it's good that James learns all the lessons he can while he's still an amateur and able to say, "Jeez, I only met the guy a few times." It won't be long before he is asked to answer for the shortcomings of his forbears, current teammates and the suits who bring them in and ship them out.

He already has learned how to belt-sand the media hype to a fine gloss, and how to select an automobile for comfort as well as style. Plus, he can dunk off either foot.

But there are two edges to business, and for James to see the other one so quickly will help him develop the emotional calluses needed to make his pro career the well-rounded educational experience it should be.

It also may suck all the fun out of his pro career, but hey, you can't make an omelette without cutting down some trees, or something like that.

It's a learning curve that comes in the shape of a snow shovel swung at your beezer by Barry Bonds. Only the strongest faces survive.

And it's not for everyone. Now, your own 18-year-old, the one who has managed mostly to sculpt the family room couch to fit the contours of his behind, isn't at all prepared for this kind of high-speed experience with the real world. He won't know that until he enters the hamster wheel of employment, but he'll have his illusions awhile longer.

LeBron James, though, is one step further along on the road to (gasp! damn!) adulthood. He still has to buy his first house, be traded for the first time and get into a spat with a local writer, but we are confident he will do it.

After all, the draft isn't until June. He's got all the time in the world. The only question is whether he's got enough stomach for it.

Ray Ratto is a columnist with the San Francisco Chronicle and a regular contributor to ESPN.com