Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Bleedland...Go Cavs!

Thank You Bleedland

When Kyrie hit that three with 53 seconds left, my mind stretched back through the years of heartbreaking moments wherein this exact thing happened to us. The moment when you realized, “It’s over!” Except this time it was us breaking hearts. I had this crazy hope and yet I couldn’t allow myself to hope, after all Jordan’s shot over Ehlo still threatened my dreams…Curry and Thompson and Draymond were still on the floor. And then James hit his second free throw and I almost believed we got this. But then I remembered Byner’s fumble and Jose Mesa’s choke in the 9th and reigned in my excitement. There was still 6 seconds left and GSW was inbounding and Curry got the step and the shot...time stopped...he missed, a mad scramble and Speights put up a hilarious prayer and all the times I’ve watched Cleveland do this exact same thing vaporized and even though I was alone I clinched my fists heartily, I was already standing pacing the floor and ripping my hair out, but I clinched my fists and punched the air.

I’m happy LBJ got the MVP, but while I have no analytics to support this, I seem to remember Irving being the more clutch player. It seemed that when Cleveland really needed something to happen he was the one to do something big. A shake-n-bake with a step-back mid-range…a down-hill drive with a crazy left-handed, high-off-the-glass lay-up…an off-screen behind the arc crowd-deflating/inflating three…or some ridiculous ankle-breaking handle that made even the Oracle ooh and ahh! I understand LBJ dominated the last three games and that’s why he got the MVP, that’s what allowed Uncle Drew to do his thing and “get buckets,” but holy hell batman, Kyrie-diculous was a killer in this series.

I watched the playoffs in Germany with League Pass and this is a strange experience because you get pure game, no hype, no commercials, and the sounds of the game are often times devoid of the network propaganda. When I saw the end of the game and Lebron’s reaction it almost seemed contrived to me. I know this is a crazy notion because he wanted this really badly. It seemed to me he was trying to invoke the spirit of Michael Jordan’s first championship in Chicago. The difference, and one that’s hard for me to swallow, is that LBJ left Cleveland. Jordan stayed and fought until he won, then he won three and quit to go play baseball. It’s not a fair comparison I know…Jordan was older, wiser when he went to the NBA. He graduated college, got a degree, played four years in North Carolina. James came out of high school. When he failed to overcome adversity he was still young and let Wade convince him to “take his talents to South Beach.” Maybe if James had gone to college for four years he wouldn’t have been so naïve. He was just a kid so, while I didn’t watch basketball in 2011, I still forgave him. In a way I was happy for him. Finally a player who was writing his own destiny, vs getting traded, moved and manipulated like so much chattel. I never burned the shirt that bore his name.   

Watching the games on League Pass there are no commercials, no hype. In time outs the camera pans the crowd, aims at the on-court cheerleading, t-shirt tossing, and parachute dropping that when you’re in the stadium you would be subjected to. But they turn the volume down and whatever music is playing on the loudspeaker is funneled down through the broadcast without the background of the crowd. It’s like you’re there but not really there. Like I said, devoid of hype and the feeling of being there. I watched it alone in my apartment. My wife and son had already moved to Slany, Czech Republic and I was alone to clean, repair and paint the flat to ensure our three month deposit is returned in full. Nothing but my bed, a small table for my computer and cleaning and paint supplies. The games usually started at 3:00 AM. I’d wake up most games a little before tip-off and watch the whole game. In the case of the finals, this was agonizing. You can imagine, the shouting and pacing and exuberating cheers and howling…all of this echoing through my vacant flat…my neighbors already thought I was a lunatic. I watched with JJ. He was in Portland and we WhatsApped throughout the playoffs. The League Pass broadcast, to my surprise, was a little delayed compared to network broadcast, and at times he was tipping me off to events to come, it was a little like seeing into the future. Sometimes that was a good thing, other times, not so much.

JJ was definitely the more optimistic. I kept reminding him that throughout Cleveland’s run, they never really faced anything comparable to what lay in store for them from the West. I actually feared OKC more than GSW. Even though James has Durant/Westbrook’s number, they really looked like they’d figured it out. And if not for the hero ball tactics over the last two games they should have won. JJ kept reminding me during the finals, it’s not over yet! I kept remembering last year, and 2010 when Lebron seemed to give up in the Boston series. It seemed to me he was giving up. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t taking control, why wasn’t he playing with urgency. After game four I was sure it was over. The way they played winding down the fourth quarter looked like they thought they were in the lead. My last WhatsApp to him after that game… “What a Joke!”

I told myself I wasn’t going to get up at 3 AM and watch game five, but I did anyway. Game six I said I’ll sleep until the fourth quarter and see what’s what, but I woke up at 3 and watched the whole thing. I was so excited all day Friday. On Saturday I watched games 5 and 6 a couple times each while making memes of Draymond Green as Bubba Blue from Forrest Gump. I tried to infect the Cavs fb page with multiple posts of the same image but it never took hold. I was sitting alone in my flat making memes and posting them secretly laughing to myself about how clever I was. It was fun, but nobody got it.

Game seven came and I slept through the first three quarters. I couldn’t bring myself to watch, I was so certain they’d choke…Cleveland always chokes. We’re always the ones left staring at the screen. Like at the end of game four, when Cleveland was cooked and they went on that fouling barrage in the last two minutes hoping for anything and the entire Q arena stood, no one leaving, everyone simply staring slack-jawed and feckless at the tragedy unfolding before them. That’s the way our seasons end in Cleveland. I woke up and JJ had shot a few WhatsApp’s at me and I was encouraged. By the time I logged into League Pass, the fourth was just about to start and it was 75-75 or something like that and I sat straight up in bed, made a coffee and started messaging JJ. What’s going on man? What you think? What’s the vibe? He was positive in his responses. GSW hitting 3’s and CLE battling straight-ahead LBJ style basketball to keep it close. I scanned the box-scores during time-outs and it looked good except CLE’s 3-point shooting was terrible.

Well the rest, as they say, is history. I told JJ before game seven that LBJ coming back and trying to recreate history wouldn’t work. It’s like getting back with an old flame, the moment’s passed, it never works out. But the difference here is that James didn’t come back…sure he returned to Cleveland, but the relationship was with his team, not us. We are all only witnesses to this, and it’s good enough for me. It’s LBJ and Kyrie. Irving and Lebron. These two guys should have been given the MVP together. Without James, Kyrie is just a really awesome scorer, and without Kyrie, James is all alone and runs out of gas (i.e. 2015 finals).

I love Cleveland. I remember the first time I watched a football game. My dad and I watched it on my little black and white TV in the kitchen. They were playing the Vikings and my dad was explaining to me how the game is played and by the time the game was ending I was hooked. Cleveland was leading and time was running out and my dad and I are screaming at the TV and Fran Tarkenton threw a hail-mary bomb down the right sideline. The ball was tipped around and bobbled and finally landed in the hands of a Minnesota wide receiver. I was crushed. It was my initiation into Cleveland sports. It wasn’t long after that our family started attending Indians games at old Municipal stadium. I’ll never forget the field opening up as we came out of the concourse and into the stands…the bright green field and the contrasting rich brown base paths. That moment resonates every time I walk into a professional baseball stadium. There were times it seemed like the stadium was empty, the lone drummer beating his impotent drum in the bleachers. A spattering of boo’s ran around the stands after the opposing team ran off this pitcher or that, and when something good did happen in the game the sounds of clapping barely registered in the cavernous stadium. It became a running joke that every time the Esterles attended a game the Tribe was sure to lose. I remember, Go Joe Charboneau! and Here We Go Brownies, Here We Go! The Tribe’s alive in 85! The Kardiac Kids! Mark Price, World B. Free. I remember going to watch the old Barons play and even had a pennant from them that I think I kept until I was in my 20’s. We went to an Indians game once in Minneapolis with my aunt and uncle to watch them play in the then brand new Metrodome. The ceiling would breathe up and down as the doors flung open at the end of the game. I caught a foul ball that day. I remember going to a Cavs game once with my friend Matt and Jon and JJ was there too. Matt’s dad got into an accident, it was winter and we were driving out route 303 and his dad swerved, lost control and ended up in the ditch. Somehow we got to the game. The old Coliseum seemed to come out of nowhere after driving along that old two-lane highway through the Cuyahoga national parks. Suddenly the forest around opened up to a gleaming edifice with white lights pushing out the darkness.


Going to these games, events, transcended the outcome. It was being with friends, or the times I’ve gone alone (and there were many) the atmosphere was enough company to outshine whatever happened in the game. But, every single season of my life, childhood and adult, has ended in “Why?!” or “There’s always next year.” or “Man, so close!” or “They got robbed!” or “F#$%’in Jordan!” or “Browns Suck!” or any number of appellations. Not this year suckers! This year we get to cheer. We get to be happy about our team doing something no one thought possible. We get to read the newspapers, watch the news, read the fb posts, and live in this moment. Thanks for the memories CLE! Thanks for doing what I began to think would never happen in Cleveland! Thanks for kicking ass! Go Cavs!   

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