Now, devotees may argue that one sport or game is inherently better than another. For me, sport is actually a chance for us to have other human beings push us to excel.
Robin Williams as John Keating, Dead Poets Society (1989)
If this blog somehow survives me and is read sometime in the future, I would be remiss if I didn’t include an entry today.
Last night I watched the Cleveland Cavaliers become the first major sports team in Cleveland to win a championship in my lifetime.
It’s well documented that no Cleveland team has won it all since 1964. Multiple documentaries have been made attesting to the unwavering faith of the Cleveland sports fan. Losing by “this much” has become synonymous with Cleveland. So much so that the city began to wear it as a weird sign of pride. It’s easy to love a winner. It’s tough to watch your team get so close so many times only to turned away, often in fantastic, “highlight reel” fashion.
But last night that changed.
We went to Cindy’s for a “Watch Party” and while I had every intention of watching the game anyway, I’m so glad we watched it with friends and family. It was one of those events you remember for years. Where were you when 9-11 happened? Where were you when the Berlin Wall fell? Where were you when the Cavs broke the Cleveland curse?
Growing up I played basketball and baseball and football and soccer. I never once scored an official point in any of those endeavors. There is no documented proof that I ever scored a basket, a goal or a touchdown that counted. But I played. I understood the frustration of losing. I understood the rules and got a small taste of what it takes to succeed in sports.
Over the years of watching failure after failure I learned to not take losing so personally. My fanatic adoration for basketball and baseball died off early. I enjoyed soccer for quite a while and still hold a tiny orange flame for the Cleveland Browns, but nowadays I don’t let the games turn me inside out like they used to.
Last night, years of Cleveland sports history told me that I would witness yet another loss. Another chapter to add to the seemingly endless pantheon of Cleveland sports heartbreak. We stayed in the game for the entire game. The lead switched hands more than 20 times. I commented that I would prefer a blowout in one direction or the other. This matching basket for basket was unnerving and I knew it was going to come down to the final seconds. I was prepared for another heart-wrenching finale. Another “game with a name”. “The Choke“? “The Miracle in the Oracle“? I don’t know. We love catchy titles for this kind of pain.
But instead we won.
This time we won and no one could believe it. Crissy had to rewind the final minutes of the game because she, like so many Cleveland fans, has stopped watching in the last two minutes. While every heart was with the team in California, no one wanted to witness what we’ve come to see as inevitable.
But instead we won.
It’s just a game, yes. We live in Cleveland. We know that better than most.
But an entire city is holding their collective heads a little higher today. They say that good things come to those who wait. Well, 52 years is a hell of along time to wait.
But today, that’s a good thing.