It's Cleveland's Turn

I wrote this column a dozen times in my head over the weekend, as I planned to write something about the Cleveland Cavaliers and their remarkable playoff run, win or lose. But which would it be? Could I write about a glorious win, or would I end up repeating the familiar refrain, “Well, there’s always next year?”

While I count myself among the true believers in Cleveland sports, I spent Sunday afternoon in anxious anticipation, fluctuating between the fear of a “one more disappointment for Cleveland” lament and a victorious “we won the championship!!!” proclamation. Could the Cleveland curse finally be broken? Would the Cavaliers have the strength to fight back from a 3-1 deficit, something no professional basketball team had ever done?

History, or at least our Cleveland history, kept telling us “no.” Fifty-two years of drought kept telling us “no.” The Fumble, the Mesa Meltdown, Right Red 88, and The Drive all reinforced the failure of the karma gods to smile on Cleveland. No matter how promising it looks, it just can’t come true for our aging Midwest city of burning river infamy.

I’d learned the “not us” lesson early. Four – count them, four consecutive Super Bowl games for a similar Great Lakes city and four consecutive losses. With my heart in my throat, I’d tried so hard to will my Bills on to victory back in the day, but after four losses, it sunk in – the good stuff just doesn’t happen for Buffalo – or for Cleveland.  

So while I was a believer in the Cavs, that nagging voice kept whispering – ‘not gonna happen, JoAnn.’ As I listened to the talking heads boast of their predictions about the NBA game seven, I felt like Digory, the young boy in “The Magician’s Nephew” by C.S. Lewis, one of The Chronicles of Narnia books: “You know how it feels if you begin hoping for something that you want desperately badly – you almost fight against the hope because it is too good to be true; you’ve been disappointed so often before.”

It’s a familiar chorus, not just in sports but in life as well. Disappointments build up, and we begin to lose hope. And yet still, hope springs eternal, does it not? Just ask Cleveland and Buffalo.

I was getting good vibes as I nestled into a giant pillow in front of the television to watch game seven. Could it be our time, our turn? The game itself was nerve-wracking, with twenty lead changes as the teams fought valiantly. Early on, Golden State made too many three-point shots, but Cleveland kept roaring back, feisty and ferocious. Northeast Ohio held its collective breath when LeBron hit the floor hard, sure the curse had broken our star’s hand just when triumph was ours for the taking. But he rose to his feet, with his intensity and sweat pouring through the television screen. With the clock ticking down, Kyrie hit his own three, LeBron streaked down the floor to reject Andre Iguodala’s lay-up, and Kevin Love pestered Steph Curry into a missed three of his own, until the buzzer sounded. Finally. Victory.

‘So what?’ some might ask. Why does winning matter so much to so many Clevelanders, even those who aren’t sports enthusiasts? Can victory in one basketball game really “change everything” for Cleveland, as the Plain Dealer editorial board suggested Monday morning?

No – and yes. In the end, as long-time Cleveland Indian’s announcer Tom Hamilton knows, “It is about entertainment.” And I get that. But as Cleveland and Northeast Ohio understand, it’s more than that. It’s the recognition that hard work pays off. As LeBron mused, “In Northeast Ohio, nothing is given. Everything is earned. You work for what you have.” It’s pride in where we live. It’s a sense of belonging. It’s redemption from our everyday disappointments and discouragement. It’s renewed hope for tomorrow.

Northeast Ohio will long remember Father’s Day, 2016. As Alan Jay Lerner composed for Camelot, “Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment that was known as Camelot.” Move over, Camelot – it’s Cleveland’s turn, and we won’t ever forget our magical shining moment. Thank you Cavs!