Adventures in The ‘Land (or the Night Delly Kept me Out of Jail)

Editors Note: This was originally supposed to be a recap, but time and life intervened, and a recap of a Monday game seems silly now. Instead we thought we’d give you a taste of the gameday experience. Sensing a probable victory, Cory Hughey and I traveled to Cleveland from our respective burghs to sample the game-night experience on a cold Monday evening in February.

Cory: I prefer to go to a game with someone who knows the game of basketball, so that I don’t have to explain what’s going on like John Madden. Fortunately, my old friend Craig Wellman could go. As teenagers we would play basketball in his driveway until the sun gave up for the night. Then we’d put up lights and play until the neighbors started yelling. It was a simpler time in life that I miss dearly. Just kids playing the sport they love and never tiring from it. The pain in me knees reminds me of it everyday.

There are multiple options for getting Cavs tickets. You can enter yourself in the Cavs single game lottery system and never get seats. You can also get fleeced on Ebay, Craigslist or by a scalper for tickets also. My personal favorite way to get tickets is via Flashseats, one of Dan Gilbert’s numerous enterprises. Flashseats is similar to gambling in a way (more on that later), have a number in mind that you and your company are comfortable with paying. For the 76ers game, my limit was $50 a seat. Don’t forget about the tax via that Dan Gilbert gets to keep (I wanna say it’s 12% but don’t quote me on that). Fortunately for the snowpocolypse, tickets were going much below face value for that particular game. I saw multiple lower-level seats going for under $30 a seat.

With Flashseats, I’ll usually place five or so bids on seats on the way up to the land of believe. We’ll grab a pre game meal, or cocktails. Cocktails works better if time is an issue and always pay with cash. Bartenders at the arena area bars are incredibly incompetent on game day and you don’t want to miss tip off waiting to close out your credit card. My personal favorite spot to pre game is Ontario St. Cafe. It’s a thorough dive bar located next door to the Tilted Kilt and across the street from the Horseshoe. It will be kind to your wallet as well. With their prime location, they could easily jack their prices up on game days. They don’t. A pitcher of beer, will cost you $6.50. Top shelf liquor goes for just $3.50. If you drink rail liquor there, you are the reason they put poison in rubbing alcohol. I arrived at Ontario St. Cafe about an hour before Nate. Four doubles of Hendrix and pineapple later and I was ready for some basketball.

Nate: After a relatively traffic-free sojourn from Stark county, my buddy Eric and I navigated the snow crusted Cleveland streets looking for parking, and then navigated the two blocks over to the Ontario Street Cafe by foot. Of course, we couldn’t find the place, and did a lap and a half around the building that sat just under the Horseshoe skyway. We walked briskly, through the alleys, devoid of people: our only company a few shivering pedestrians, some disgruntled gamblers, and a pair of pretty girls in tall ivory boots, short white skirts, and pony tails, smoking by a back door. Our ears stung and the wind sliced through our coats as we crunched onward, tasting the salt, exhaust, and excitement in the frigid air.

We finally found the bar, 30 minutes before tipoff. Cory was right. Ontario Street Cafe is perfect. It was dark, appointed with wood paneled walls, old beer signs, and the smell of cigarettes from decades past. The specials on the black changeable letter board confirmed it’s the cheapest place to drink within a mile of the Q or the Horseshoe. Having arrived so late, we skipped the only menu item, Corned Beef sandwiches, and drank our dinner: tall glasses of Crooked River Yuletide Ale. The spiced red draft was delicious. After the brisk winter hike, we gulped it like Gatorade. Numb on our lips, cinnamon on our tongues, and cold in the throat, the beer soon warmed our bellies.

We found Cory, decked in a wine and gold hoodie and stocking cap, with a mustache of stubble and a hard liquor grin. Within minutes, we were bombastically talking Cavs.

Cory: I set the alarm on my phone for 6:30. That was ticket time. After Nate and his friend arrive we had another round then headed through the frozen tundra to the arena. I was in the lead for three bids on seats, and was willing to win them at tip off and walk in. A scalper stopped us just past the Harry Buffalo (pay cash there) and offered me section 125, second row club seats for $200. I told him I’d give him a $100 for the pair. He haggled. I reminded him that I had seats via flashseats and he’d be left with a pair of $110 a piece book markers. He kept trying to go lower, and like Mark Cuban on Shark Tank, I didn’t raise my price. He finally relented and I cancelled my flashseats bids. I got $220 worth of bum warmers for a Ben Franklin. That’s how you do it kids. Even if you don’t get your tickets on Flashseats, it gives you some serious negotiating power.

Honestly, I’m not a huge fan of club seats. I prefer lower bowl. I suppose to some it’s nice to have your own waiter and all, but I can use the exercise walking up to get more beer during bathroom breaks. My disdain towards the club level is more of the people seated around you. They aren’t real fans. They are there for business wooings. They leave 10 minutes before the final buzzer to dodge traffic on their way back to Rocky River. I’m a Cavs fan for the long haul. I lost sleep over the franchises incompetence during the past four seasons. When I go to a game, I want confetti to shower down upon me after a win. I want to see the players from opposing teams talk after the game. I stay to see the place clear out and know that my fandom is superior to theirs no matter what their bank account reads.

Nate: My section in the sideline corner was awesome: men and women of every age and race, and enough empty seats that we could stretch out (the number of no-shows for this night was staggering). The seats in the Q are far and away the best stadium seats I’ve ever experienced. Upholstered and giving, yet firm, they’re like actually comfortable.

I’d been to the game Friday as well, with my family, but Monday’s game felt more electric, despite fewer people. Given my politics, I chalked it up to the number of  “real fans” able to afford the game, with how cheap the tickets were going. But I’m probably just biased . More probable? With fewer people, I wasn’t stuck in traffic with kids for a half hour while my wife cajoled  for directions. Monday, I didn’t miss the first quarter, so I was much less irritable when I sat down: just in time for the brand new intro. (Sadly no more homage to Lake Oswego in the new one).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=rfqxjdH-2Sc

I hadn’t been to a Cavs game in maybe three years. And the arena is pretty amazing now. I mentioned the seats. The humungotron display has to be one of the best in sports, and there are always box scores displayed in the corner for every player in the floor. It rotates between the Cavs and their opponent. The food offerings aren’t great in Loudville. It’s hot dogs, popcorn, or a heart attack inducing tray of curly fries and fried chicken tenders. Load up on the more diverse culinary offerings on the entrance level. And I didn’t even bother looking for a decent beer. It was Macrobrew City up there: Bud, Miller, Coors Light, and Yuengling. Seriously, Great Lakes: brew a sessionable IPA to sell at Cleveland sporting events. You’ll make a killing.

The game was fun. Sure, Cleveland played down to their opponent, but he Cavs were throwing in threes, looking for outlets, dunking, and generally putting on a show. Mozgov blocked five shots, was on the wrong end of some horrible foul calls, and made my favorite play of the game with his second quarter offensive rebound slam. Everyone in my section loved him.

I give Philly a ton of credit. They play hard. They’re an amorphous blob of players that are all 6-foot-7 or taller, can switch everything, rebound, and shoot. They double teamed and trapped LeBron and Kyrie as ball handlers in the pick-and-roll, and in isolation. By game’s end they were making other Cavs beat them. With Robert Covington, JaKarr Sampson, Hollis Thompson, and Jerami Grant, their shooting from three has improved immensely over previous seasons, Grant looked like an absolute gem in this game. He punished the Cavs whenever they left him open behind the three point line (if you’ll remember, Horace Grant, Jerami’s uncle, had a lethal J from 20 feet). Jerami went for 18, with seven boards, and two dimes, and every time he scored, I said, “Is that Jerami Grant, AGAIN?” Grant was nabbed six picks after Joe Harris last summer. Just sayin’.

Halftime was awesome. It was the Cavs annual Black Heritage Celebration. The team honored “Herb Douglas, Harrison Dillard and John Carlos – three former Olympic medalists who laid the foundation for African American athletes of today… John Carlos, a bronze-medal winner at the 1968 Summer Olympics, is best remembered for courageously raising his black-gloved fist as an act of protest in Mexico City.” Having a person in front of you who is a walking moment in history is always a cool thing. Also, it’s amazing how fast the game goes by when you’re there. With no commercials, it seems like every quarter takes five minutes, and the halftime is over before you even have time to pee.

One of the things that made the game much harder than it needed to be was LeBron’s deliberately deliberate offense. LeBron recently said he’ll do, “Whatever this team needs in order to win. I’ll come off the bench and I’m serious.” What he didn’t say was, “I’ll stop dribbling around the three point line for 20 seconds then jacking up a contested three for no reason.” That would be much more helpful than becoming a sub. In the most bizarre play of the game, Cleveland was up six with 4:22 left in the Game. They ran a brilliant out of bounds play with a double screen for Delly which turned into a double screen for Irving, with Love setting screens on the right wing. It was perfect, because it drew the entire defense over to the right wing, and then got the ball to LeBron on the left top of the key with one guy guarding him and the middle of the defense wide open. Instead of attacking, he waited for the entire defense to reset, Tristan to set a screen, and then, James threw a pass way over Kevin Love’s head.

But that’s all academic, because Cleveland wasn’t losing this game. Though, from the way some fans talk, you think they’d have wanted them to if it meant not having to watch Matthew Dellavedova any more. The fan behind me was belligerently anti-Delly and moaning loudly about it. “WHY IS HE IN THERE?!” “JESUS, BLATT SUCKS!” “I’d trade him for Ramon Sessions right now.” Now I get if you don’t like a guy, but don’t ruin the game for your entire section with constantly swearing about Delly. I mean, there were kids everywhere, and he was dropping F-bombs like popcorn. The guy was early twenties, armband tattooed, skinny, with short, black hair, muscular arms, and beady black eyes. It was late in the third when the Delly moaning started again, after a first half preview. Delly had two bad turnovers in the late third, and a couple terrible short range shots in the first half.

By the early fourth, I was honestly questioning why Delly was in there too, especially when Iman Shumpert was 4-4 with two steals. “Maybe he is still on a minutes restriction,” I mused. But this guy’s constant prattle was making my blood boil. When Delly hustled back to break up a fast break, I yelled, as if in response, “THAT’S why he’s in there! THAT’S HOW YOU PLAY DEFENSE! I SEE YOU WORKING, DELLY!” The whole section turned and looked at me quizzically, chuckling. He grumbled.

“He won’t even be on the playoff roster.”

“Yeah, THAT’S why he’s playing with five minutes left in the fourth. Cause he won’t be on the playoff roster,” I retorted.

“That’s cause Blatt’s a [expletive] coach.”

“That’s why they’ve won ten straight. Cause he’s a bad coach.” (Though part of me was wondering why Delly was in).

When Hellofadova! hit a three, I turned and yelled “WHOOO!!!!! DELLLY TREY!!!!!” waiving my arms in the air as I stared crazily into his eyes. He rolled his. That’s when I noticed the preponderance of Coors Light tallboys under his seat. His tiny girlfriend looked terrified of the whole situation.

“Bout to throw down with a drunk fan over Delly!” I commented on the Live Thread.

“If you wanna throw down, I’ll go right now.” Uh oh. The d-bag had been looking over my shoulder. I immediately realized that I’d like to attend a Cavs game at some point in the future and that fighting in the stands with a 45-degree incline was a recipe for expulsion and a seriously painful tumble. Also, I’m kind of a vehement pacifist.

I grinned wide, turned around, and said, “I’m just messin’. What’s your name, man?” The tension hung in the air until 2:35 when Delly hit a trey to extend the lead to eight.

After the roar of the crowd subsided, I chuckled, and he begrudgingly high-fived me. A young black man who was sitting with his son in front of me said quietly, “I thought you were gonna say something after that last one.”

I laughed. “I high-fived him instead.”

He grinned, “I saw that.” When Delly hit a three at 58 seconds, the man in front of me said, “I’ll high five you for that.” After the exchange, I turned around, and my young friend was gone. Then I noticed the beer count was seven tall boys. He was probably emptying his guts in a stall, somewhere.

I looked at Eric as when we descended the stairs, “You know that’s like $50 bucks worth of beer, right?”

Like this, but with snow and salt everywhere

Eric and I headed over to meet Cory at the Horseshoe. If you want to take the elevator to the Horseshoe parking garage and Skyway after the game, ask an usher. You can then go through the swanky halls of the suite section, where it seems as if there’s a Q employee every 10 feet, to the skywalk that takes you over Huron. Then, you follow the horseshoe symbols through the parking garage to the walkway over Ontario and Prospect. After braving the cold on the trip from our car, I enjoyed looking out over the serenely frigid scene of steaming pedestrians, neon signs, and tail lights below while I was comfortably warm.

Cory: Since we didn’t have time to grab dinner or hit the casino before the game, we did so after. Dinner was at B Spot, Michael Symon’s burger joint. His influence on the culinary world reaches far and wide. Animal in LA draws many of it’s influences from Lola. I love B Spot, I really do. The one in the casino is probably the worst one as far as service, but I totally understand since most of their customers are crying from losing a month’s wages on a craps table. I’d be surly too. After dinner I headed to the roulette wheel. I thought that a $15 minimum was a bit excessive (should be $10, but whatever). When you gamble, only bet what you’re comfortable with throwing away. I bought in with $50 and quickly lost it. After grabbing another Franklin from the ATM, I returned and slowly and methodically built up a stack of well over $300. I cashed in then returned, big mistake. That first hundred went quickly. When I was ready to leave at around four in the morning, I simply put a pair of $100 chips on the odd marker. It came up even. That’s another lesson. Know when to walk away. I had doubled my investment. Dan Gilbert could have paid for our entire night (he has before-Thanks Dan!). The longer you stay at a table the more likely you are to come away with nothing. It was time for the long drive back to Youngstown.

Nate: The four of us talked basketball for a good hour at the B-Spot, over rosemary fries and an array of goofy sauces. We were all in agreement that a 16-game streak going into the all-star break should be the goal, and that this year was starting to feel special. Then the three of us watched Cory at the roulette table, while we sipped New Belgium Rangers. The casino is tasteful and clean, the staff is friendly, and all wore Cavs apparel. A cross-section of Cleveland was represented: from old Greek men, to an array of young men of every race and dress code, to XXXL Cavs fans confirming tales of the Cleveland waistline, to gorgeous young women (and women my age too!), to old ladies with oxygen tanks playing slots. And yes, there was even a Rupaul-esque 6-foot-2 drag queen.

I’m not much of a gambler, and after finishing our beers and seeing that Cory was up about $100, Eric and I set out into the cold again. We wandered around the cold, deserted, Cleveland streets trying to find our exact parking garage. I always say, “It’s not a trip to Cleveland if I don’t get lost at least once.” We took a wrong turn and ended up in Treemont, then drove by Edison’s to see if we could get a slice after midnight. Sadly, it was closed. Hard to chase the night on a Monday.

We headed South, talking of Cleveland, $8 B-Spot milkshakes, beer, basketball, and what a great night it was. My hands were still shaking and my voice was still too loud from how excited I  was over the game, four hours earlier. I have faith that the ‘Land will always take you in, always entertain, always make you love its people, and always get you home. You’ll leave richer in experience, though you might be a little poorer in cash.