Love’s Labour’s Lost… And the 5 Stages of Dealing With It

[If you haven’t taken a listen to Tom’s terrific chat with Mark Neal… please read no further until you have done so…]

This past week has been a challenging one for Cavs fans, myself included. What should have been the joy and satisfaction of victory, easily sweeping a first round series against a scrappy Boston team, turned rapidly into the agony and pain of a nightmare injury scenario in one awkward yank.

I hate admitting it, but I’m old enough to have witnessed the painfully devastating Jim Chones injury that effectively ended the “Miracle of Richfield” season in 1976. But, be you a long time, die-hard believer in the wine and gold like me, a relative newcomer to the “All In” bandwagon, or somewhere in between, the now nearly unfolded saga of the dislocation of Kevin Love (both his arm from his shoulder socket, and his presence in the starting lineup of his team) has likely sent you careening with me down the rabbit hole of the infamous Kübler-Ross model for the Five Stages of Grief. And if it didn’t, then you are likely either numb or immune to the concept of the curse of being a Cleveland sports fan… or you are a robot.

The stages themselves (for me at least) have arrived on an almost daily basis, with each passing 24-hour frame offering up a new layer of information, media attention and discussion about the joint in question. So, it seemed fitting to break them down that way…

Sunday: Shock and Denial

Game 4. A closeout game for the Cavs. Sure, I knew it would be chippy, as the Celtics had been ratcheting up the physicality after losing Game 1 by 13 points. Game 3 in Boston had been the hardest fought yet, and included a hard foul by Jonas Jerebko where he knocked Kyrie Irving to the floor like a rag doll, a technical foul on J.R. Smith in the ensuing posturing by both teams, and a near horse collar Flagrant-1 foul by Evan Turner on LeBron James. The butterfly flapped its wings. The tension started brewing. And, I vividly remember thinking before Game 4 “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

After the Cavs scored off of two successive offensive rebounds to start the game, Coach Brad Stevens called a rage timeout 98 seconds in to demand his team do “whatever it takes” to prevent the Cavs from any further o-boards. The Cavs, and Kevin Love, soon discovered the translation of this phrase. A mere five minutes later, the hurricane of chaos theory struck.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J__502V0WPQ

The image of Kevin Love bolting away from Kelly Olynyk’s grip, and then continuing his run down the court and off into the locker room, all the while holding his limp left shoulder at his side, was one of the more surreal moments of the season. The “what the hell just happened??” shock of it took a few moments to register for me. In real time, the play didn’t look that out of the ordinary. But on the slow motion replay, the true picture started to come into focus.

While initially, the two players were tangled up going for a rebound, Olynyk clearly appeared to grab onto Love’s left arm with both hands and pull down and away from the ball. I don’t know about you, but I had to rewind and replay the video several times on my DVR before the stark reality of it finally started to seep into my own cerebral cortex. This began an internal debate between my brain that was screaming “Kevin is severely injured” and my heart that refused to listen and started repeating the denial mantra of “he’s okay… he’s fine… it’s not that bad.”

The seeds of the anger stage to come would be sown as the game wore on and the Cavs players dedicated themselves to fighting back with violence and intimidation of their own. The game devolved into an arena of lawlessness and retribution, observed with a certain air of nonchalance by the officials, announcers, media and most people outside of the Love family, the Cavaliers and their fanbase. Meanwhile, there were instant theories of how bad the damage was to Kevin’s shoulder, and what the impact of losing him for any amount of time would have on this team.

https://twitter.com/ohholybutt/status/592377613424795648

https://twitter.com/Shake4ndBake/status/592377426430271488

Say what you want about Kevin Love, but this team does NOT win a championship without him.

— Cavaliers Nation (@WeAreCavsNation) April 26, 2015

Our own comments on the Live Thread were littered with dire prognostications about the injury and the Cavs playoff chances, something that got Nate’s dander up and kick-started the anger stage early as he rained down “STFUs” on overzealous doom-sayers and couch-doctors (something he would apologize for later to those he may have offended — although I felt he was right to lash out at the time, and would have done the same if he wasn’t already doing it).

But denial ruled the day. This was just supposed to be a close out game. An easy sweep to prep for the next round. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Kevin. Not to this team. Not to us.

Monday: Anger

The new poster child for hate.

The anger that was ignited by the pictured long-haired Canadian on Sunday, heated up that night with Kevin Love’s own condemnation of Olynyk’s act of using his left arm like a delinquent pulling a fire alarm to get out of class. By Monday morning, as we all waited anxiously for the doctors at the Cleveland Clinic to allay our fears on the seriousness of the injury following the MRI process, many of us turned our mob mentality rage towards the Kelly green giant.

Trapped in my own cocoon of rage, I posted this picture repeatedly for friends, other fans and pretty much anyone who would listen, along with the accompanying “(expletive) Kelly Olynyk!”

(expletive) Kelly Olynyk!

How dare this “reject from the WNBA,” this “long-haired hooligan,” “bush league basketball barbarian” and many other unprintable hurled epithets, single-handedly (or double-handedly) throw a wet blanket on the Cavs’ playoff run? Torches were lit. Pitchforks were sharpened. Scissors and razors were held at the ready for this new long haired Cleveland Public Enemy Number One. Twitter erupted with vitriolic posts from all comers, to the degree that Olynyk himself (once he finally emerged from his cave/hole/hovel/underside of rock and spoke to the press) remarked that he’d likely meet his untimely demise if he were to set foot anywhere near the city of Cleveland (which is a tough break for many of the fine downtown steakhouses he apparently likes to frequent). While it’s not difficult to string a few curse words and insults together, some fans got really creative with their attempts at hurtful/hateful tweets…

https://twitter.com/MeganHuyghe/status/593090989616549888

@KellyOlynyk I hope that next time you do to Mcdonald's and buy a six piece, they give you five nuggets. Sucka

— Baker's Biceps (@MayfieldsBiceps) April 28, 2015

@KellyOlynyk I won't wish any harm on you, but I hope every bite of cereal you take for the rest of your life, you drip milk on your chin.

— Joe Chaffin (@JoeChaffin19) April 28, 2015

But I realized that Olynyk was just an easy target. A combo punching-bag and pin-cushion for our swings of frustration and sharp needles of hatred. I found what I was really mad at wasn’t this giant awkward doofus who likely had not spent the night before practicing his arm bars in the mirror in anticipation of his big chance to join Cobra Kai (“yank the arm” isn’t nearly as iconic as “sweep the leg” anyway). No, I was mad that something this random, this freakish, this cruel could befall the Cavs just as they were starting to really jell at the best possible time. And to add insult to major injury… that it would happen to the one piece of the puzzle that was finally, genuinely “fitting in.” It was enough to make you want to scream from the top of the Terminal Tower “WHY?! WHY US?! WHY NOW?!” (something I contemplated many times when I lived in NEOhio and suffered through countless other freaky, karmically bizarre Cleveland sports debacles).

The salt in the wound though was the abject disagreement most of the rest of the media talking heads, former players and pundits had with our collective perspective on the injustice that had been served up in Game 4. Love was labeled a complainer for intimating that Olynyk acted on purpose. Cavs like LBJ, Kyrie and David Blatt who had Kevin’s back were derided for deeming it “not a basketball play.” It was quickly passed over for the “true heinous act” of the game… the J.R. Smith blind-punch MMA takedown of Jae Crowder that tore up his knee in the process. Calls for the “repeat offender” J.R. to get at least two… (No, five! No, 10!! NO, INFINITY!!!) games of suspension drowned out the sin of Olynyk. If anything, the focus shifted more from “Kevin Love is not fitting in” and “the Cavs are misusing Kevin Love” to “the Cavs are DOOMED without Kevin Love” and “there’s no way the Cavs even make it past Chicago without Kevin Love.”

It was just way too easy to get worked up into a fine lather over all of these compounding external forces as the day wore on. At a certain point, I just had to take a break from it. I left my phone at the office, got in my car and drove down to the Santa Monica beach to stare into the boundless abyss of the Pacific Ocean and try to forget about the whole thing for a while.

When I got back from my sojourn, the news had already broken that the MRI showed enough damage for the Cavs to officially rule Love out for the entire next round of the playoffs. And the bargaining began in earnest.

Tuesday: Bargaining

“Okay ______ (fill in higher power of choice), just let a week or two of rest help Kevin’s shoulder heal enough to play in the Eastern Conference Finals, or at least the Finals, and I promise I won’t ever daydream about hurting, maiming, torturing or killing Kelly Olynyk, or any other Celtic, ever again…” 

(I must have uttered some version of the above beseeching phrase a half-dozen times between Monday night and Tuesday mid-day.)

The problem with false hope is that it can lead you down dead-end pathways like a rat in an electrified maze. Just when you think the cheese might be in reach if you’re patient enough, you get zapped and realize what you should have from the beginning. The initial press release from the Cavs provided such an instance of false hope. It only stated that the result of Kevin’s MRI had ruled him out for the next playoff series. This seemed like positive news, and for all intents and purposes, this was the truth. It wasn’t the whole truth and nothing but… Still, it was enough to get less pessimistic fans (like yours truly) into full on bargaining mode.

Not this kind of bargaining…

Yes, more like what Chuck is doing…

I find there’s nothing like bargaining mode to get my brain juices flowing and focusing on the myriad of scenarios that could possibly play out in a given set of circumstances. And there were many possible Willis Reed-ian legendary outcomes I (and I’m certain many others) were imagining coming to fruition. Ones where Kevin Love would quite literally shrug off this set-back and make his heroic return to help the Cavs cement their first championship with one last playoff series full of determination, grit and timely bombs from deep in the Q.

Alas, the time for such bartering with the basketball gods and other deities was short-lived. David Griffin, in his own refreshingly straightforward manner, all but closed the door on any sort of playoff return with his clarification of the previous evening’s official report. Kevin Love would almost assuredly not be making another appearance in this post-season. Not just for the next series, but for ANY remaining series. In fact, the candid GM revealed that the damage was indeed so significant that it might require surgery, which would keep the big man out for months instead of mere weeks.

While even Griff didn’t have the heart to slam the door shut on hope completely in his comments, he intimated enough severity to give even the most stridently optimistic Cavs fan pause. He must have known, or at least greatly expected, that the surgery option was no longer a matter of “if,” but “when.”

Wednesday: Depression

Like many fans (including many on this blog given the tenor of the comments), I had already been experiencing varying levels of depression in the anger and bargaining phases. However, it wasn’t until all hope of a Love return was extinguished by the report that Kevin had undergone successful shoulder surgery on Wednesday afternoon, that the full effects of depression kicked in. There would be no incredible recovery or comeback. There would be no big man to stretch the floor for LBJ and Kyrie. There would be no more “big three” this postseason. There would be no more Love. (okay, this is getting too depressing…)

This is not intended to make light of depression, so please don’t take it that way. It’s less depression, and more depressing. Losing an important player off of one’s favorite sports team to injury shouldn’t make one want to give up on life or anything drastic like that (it’s just a game after all — at least that’s what my wife always tells me when I go off the deep end). But it can bring you down. It can ruin your day, or your week, or your post-season experience. It can cause you to wallow in sadness and pity. For the player. For the team. For the city. For your friends and family. For other fans. And for yourself.

It’s enough to make you put your headphones on and (in the spirit of what Nate started in the recap) crank some R.E.M… (yeah, I know it’s played, but there’s still no better song IMHO to wring the emotions out…)

Beyond the situation itself, the overwhelming nature of a future without that important player also can weigh heavy on the mind and heart. This is the next phase of realization that started to sink in for me and probably the collective psyche of Cavs fans once the surgery was announced. “What will Kevin Love’s future hold?” was the question on the lips of not just fans, but was also the new soundbite mantra adopted by the media vanguard. Further questions like “Will Kevin Love opt into the last year of his existing deal?” “Will Kevin Love test the free agent market?” “Has Kevin Love played his last game as a Cav?” popped up like so many mushrooms on an autumnal Oregon forest floor (this simile’s for you, Kev!)

Then I forced myself to stop and remember the basic fact that these questions all existed before the unfortunate events of this past week. The injury and untimely end to Kevin Love’s season only brought them to the forefront that much sooner than expected. The hope is that the manner in which his teammates, his coach, his GM, the Cavs organization and Cavs fans have responded and had Kevin’s back throughout the ordeal will mean something at the end of the day. He may well have already decided long ago to give his Cavs tenure at least one more season, but sometimes when bad things happen to good people, they notice the level of compassion that emanates from those around them. Sometimes, it makes all the difference in the world.

Thursday (and beyond): Acceptance?

When I woke up Thursday morning and started my daily scour of the digital ether for information on all things related to both my job and the Cavs, I was greeted by this sight that made me smile and made the clouds clear up a little…

There are so many things I believe are right about this picture. First, Kevin posted it on his Instagram account as both a sign that he’s recovering well, and also as a thank you to everyone out there who is supporting him through this difficult and disappointing time. Second, the thumbs up and the smile show Kev in good spirits despite the injury. Third, he’s wearing a Tribe cap. I don’t pretend to know the reasons behind this choice of head gear, but I love the implied sentiment no matter how intentional. The best news is that it isn’t a Dodger cap, or a UCLA lid, or something even more suspect. And last, but not least, it shows that he has indeed gone through with successful surgery, and not delayed the inevitable, or risked further injury by trying to come back this season. Getting the procedure done now means that, even though his timetable for recovery is four to six months, he’s got a good chance of being ready to go for the start of next season.

It also has given us a means to move on to acceptance of a post-season without Kevin Love. LeBron, Kyrie, the rest of the team, David Blatt, David Griffin, Dan Gilbert and the Cavs organization have already reached this phase. They have no choice in the matter. They are preparing for the next round, and working hard to figure out how to beat the Chicago Bulls. No matter how much we wish the events of Game 4 had never happened, and that Love could still be a part of the Cavs’ run through the playoffs, we have to accept the reality of the situation. We have to accept that the road to the title just got a lot harder. But it’s not impossible.

I take comfort in knowing that the Cavaliers still have arguably the greatest player in the game. They have arguably another top 10 player at point guard. The combination of these two is still arguably the most potent one-two punch amongst the remaining playoff teams. They still have a Russian behemoth of a center, who can swat basketballs out of the sky like helicopters (or like so many competitor effigy sandwiches prepared by the Brew Garden). They still have the lock-down, flat-top defender who made the Sixth Man of the Year runner-up disappear for three games. They still have the Canadian version of Dennis Rodman (minus the crazy hair and head, but plus scoring ability). They still have a repentant gunner who’ll be back in two games, ready to shoot the lights out. They still have the hardest working Aussie in the NBA. And they still have a bench full of guys who have been there before, and can act like it.

Admittedly, the hardest part I’ve discovered about moving onto the acceptance phase this week is that there has yet to be a post-Love litmus test. Beyond closing out the last three quarters against an inferior Celtics team who knew they were going down, the Cavs haven’t had a chance to test out what the new line-ups and configurations are capable of. We won’t truly know until they square off against the Bulls on Monday night. It’s a long time to wait for tangible evidence that, even if everything isn’t the same, everything can still be alright.

As LeBron himself said earlier in the week…

“You just control what you can control, that’s all we can do. We have this small period of time to get better. It’s next man up. What goes on with our team, those are two big pieces, obviously, next man up. No excuses. You just get ready to go out and play.”

“I’m prepared to play… Whatever the team needs, I’m there for them.”

Yes, I will miss Kevin Love. Kevin Love will be missed by everyone who has a rooting interest in this team’s success. His contributions, which didn’t always show up in the box score, will be missed. His loss is a pothole on the road to a championship, and one that’s invariably done at least some damage to the Cavs chances. But, even though it will be a long road ahead for Kevin Love to recover fully from his injury, and he’ll have plenty of time to contemplate his future in advance of the summer, LeBron and the rest of the Cavs have already accepted the challenge to keep this team moving ahead deeper into the playoffs, in search of the ultimate goal: a championship for Cleveland.

If they can accept that, then who am I to let my own five step process get in the way of believing in their chances?

Let’s go CAVS!