On Winning A Championship…

If you’re lucky… you won’t have the opportunity to read this piece until late tonight or early tomorrow after you’ve recovered. Hopefully, you’re one of the likely close to a million souls who ventured to Cleveland today for the victory parade to end all victory parades. Reports had folks coming from nearly every state, as well as from places around the globe… not to mention how well represented the state of Ohio, Northeastern Ohio and Cleveland itself were.

What the Cleveland Cavaliers accomplished will be savored for days, weeks, months, years, decades and generations to come. Stories of where you were and with whom you watched the first Cleveland sports Championship in 52 years will resonate long after the wine and gold confetti has been swept up and the champagne and tears of joy have dried.

For our part here at C:tB… we wanted to share with you some of our own personal stories of how we watched, with who we watched, and what it all meant to us (in roughly 500 words more or less — so as not to get too long in the tooth…).

We hope it inspires you to share your stories too…

Carson Zagger (who was amongst the celebratory throng outside the Q)

A Cleveland championship was a moment I’d daydreamed about and replayed in my head countless times. The exact moment when an entire region was lifted to jubilation above a Curse that had hung around Northeast Ohio like a pall for 52 long years. It’s difficult for me to fathom 52 years. That’s almost two of my lives. Yet the heartbreak of those who’d been around for all the lows since that last, great high in 1964 was palpable to anyone, young or old, who’d been in town long enough to get a pulse on this community. You’ve heard it all before, about how the Cleveland sports curse coincided with the regional economic downturn that saw thousands of careers and people flee for greener pastures. The Curse wasn’t just about the failures of sports teams whose success we had little to no control over; rather, it was an extension of Ohio’s and its people’s own hard luck. Luck that hadn’t changed for 52 years. The losing became an identity.

Of course, for all my daydreams and imagination, nothing could compare to that moment on Sunday night. I went downtown to the outdoor watch party hosted by the Cavs outside of the Q. It was epic. Not epic in the vogue sense (“dude, that rager last night was epic!”) but in the classic meaning. Think the Odyssey. Freaking Lord of the Rings. Thousands of people from a united community were gathered for a moment that would either yield another year of bitter disappointment — another year allowing doubt to creep into our collective psyche about the fortunes laid out for us by the cosmos — or ineffable bliss. People piled on top of each other, on rooftops and cars, hanging out of windows and parking garages… all gathered for the possibility to witness one great event.

I’m convinced the immediate celebration of the Cavs championship in downtown Cleveland is and will remain the most incredible thing I have ever witnessed on Earth. If the universe was created from one singularity of matter, Northeast Ohio was reborn through a singularity of emotion spanning the country from Akron to Cleveland to California’s Bay Area. As LeBron hit his final free throw, people started to believe in an impossible truth that was borne in that moment: WE DID IT! Emphasis on we — “Cleveland!!! This is for you!” our hometown hero roared with us.

We felt physically higher: leaping in joy, arms in the air, bellowing our voices hoarse as we howled skyward at the full Father’s Day moon. Climbing up — on top of cars, firetrucks, lamp posts, trees, buildings… No one knew what to do with themselves, only knowing that they’d been uplifted someplace they’d never been before. I saw grown men cry. Strangers weeping in each others’ embraces. High fives galore. Battle cries, cries of love and vindication. One of the most beautiful things in this world is when people’s inhibitions and judgement are erased by a common goal or interest, whether by sport, music… pick your pleasure. This instance was immense in scale as pure, unadulterated elation was shared between thousands of my community members and myself. Nirvana.

The thing is, I was always the selfish one. I didn’t want just any old championship to break the Cleveland Curse — it had to be the ULTIMATE championship, one with a beautiful story like the one LeBron and Ohio just wrote. “Normal” wasn’t good enough, I thought; the moment had too much potential for greatness. I’m so glad that my wish came true, and if it’s been confusing for me to have written to this point about all the people and things I saw on Sunday night when prompted to explain what the Cavs’, Cleveland’s, championship meant to me personally… well… I just did.

Elijah Kim (who hosted an epic Game 7 watch party at his place)

The Cavs winning this championship is a mind-numbing experience for me. Ever since I committed to cheering for them since I moved to Ohio from South Korea in 2003, they were my favorite sports team. Through the heartbreaks of losing the 2007 Finals in four games, The Decision, injuries to Love/Irving in the 2015 Finals, and plenty of others, this championship vindicates it all for me.

My brother went to Case Western and I used that as a pretty good excuse to traverse my way up to Cleveland when I could to see the Cavs, even though at this point, I was watching a LeBron-less team, cheering for Alonzo Gee, Christian Eyenga, Samardo Samuels, Luke Harangody, Manny Harris, etc. I didn’t care if the Cavs won, I just wanted them to embody the city that they played for. Many nights, they fell short on the scoreboard, along with the effort.

When LeBron decided to come back, I was in an extremely dark place of my life. I had just ended my most serious relationship to date, was helping my financially struggling family get through joblessness/debt, and worked multiple odd opportunities in addition to my financial analyst role at a commercial bank. A game between four lines of 94 by 50 feet gave me solace and hope as I lived life, day by day. The Cavs were more to me than just a basketball team; they were a part of my struggle and me.

My first piece I ever wrote on C:tB was a guest piece via Nate Smith in January of 2014. Although I didn’t get full time contributor status, I kept on nagging him and Tom to give me a shot and I’m glad I did. Contributing to Cavs: The Blog has given me the opportunity to share with people what I love, the Cavs.

Through the thick and thin and ups and downs, I’m glad I didn’t give up on the Cavs. Watching them, reading about them, speculating about them, cheering for them, and most importantly caring about them gave me hope and happiness to get through my darkest times.

Words can’t describe the joy and happiness I feel in seeing the Cavaliers win the championship. I couldn’t be more proud or happier about them. I wouldn’t trade my fanhood of the Cavs for any other team because no one will ever truly understand how much this team means to me. Everyone in life has struggles and everyone copes with things in different ways. For me, this team helped me overcome things that I couldn’t wish upon my worst enemies; the feelings of being lost and hopeless, struggling to climb upstream to normalcy.

Thank you Cavs for helping me get through it all day by day. There’s no shame in having problems, the shame is to never face them head on.

Cleveland Cavaliers. World Champs.

Mike Schreiner (who watched with his family)

Describing how what this championship means to me is incredibly difficult, because it’s such an enormous feeling. In some ways, it’s almost a justification of a large part of who I am. True fandom isn’t a choice, it’s ingrained in you like any other major personality trait. For me, fandom of Cleveland sports has been part of my life since birth, as I arrived in this world a week early after my father talked my very pregnant mother into walking to the upper deck of the old Municipal Stadium to take in an Indians game. As most of you know, there was no need to walk to the upper deck in old Muni as seats were more than available on every level. Sports are a huge part of my family, and a way in which we come together, even as my brothers and sisters have moved all over the country. I’m old enough to remember The Drive, The Fumble, and The Shot. I was a freshman in college when Jose Mesa blew it in the ninth inning of the 1997 World Series, and was so upset that I couldn’t get myself together to go to class the next day. I hadn’t been able to watch the highlights of that game until I attended the premiere of Believeland on March 29.

All of the heartbreak definitely had an effect. There were so many times that I wondered if I would ever see a Cleveland team win a world championship, times were I wondered if I should try rooting for other teams, and even times where I thought about giving up on professional sports altogether. But I couldn’t. The programming is too strong. Instead—despite the Cleveland jokes from college friends and overall condescension form much of the national media—I became a more ardent follower, writing for this blog as a way of sharing my thoughts on the Cavaliers with people who care as much as I do. Writing for this blog has been a blessing, but the research involved means that we know so much—sometimes too much—about how good our team is and the chances of them winning the ultimate prize.

That’s why this championship is so amazing to me. It proves that being a Cleveland fan is worth it. That it’s okay to pass it on to my own children. They’re just four and two years old, so they don’t really understand what the big deal is, but it’s something I’ll be able to tell them about and share with them as they grow. This championship is proof that anything can happen in sports, and that it’s good to have faith, no matter what BPI says. It shows that it’s okay to care about something as trivial as professional sports, and that my home is just as capable of winning as any other city. I have cried tears of joy four times in my life; during my wedding, at the birth of each of my children, and when the Cleveland Cavaliers won the 2016 NBA Championship. That is how important this title is to me.

David Wood (Who watched with the good people of North Carolina)

On the night of game seven, I was drinking Miller High Life. Not because I hate myself, but because that’s what I drank when the Cavs outscored the Warriors 112-97 over a period of 48 minutes in game five at the Oracle.

I was wearing the same Kyrie “double nickle” shirt, black jeans, faded all orange retro Cavs hat, and purple Jordans. I even brought the long sleeve henley I had on the night of game five to my friend’s house, despite it being 85 degrees (I’m in North Carolina), just in case the Cavs needed an extra boost at half time.

I stood up the last five minutes of the game, because that’s what I did during game five. With the Cavs down 87-86, they outscored the Warriors 7-2 and won. James had a savage block that made me question if he’s even the same species as me. Kevin Love acted like Stephen Curry was the negative end of a magnet, and he was the positive end when he stuck to Curry for a full possession forcing him to brick a three. It was the best defensive sequence he has ever played. And, Kyrie danced with the ball as Curry followed him closely before launching up a 3-pointer that shattered the Warriors’ 73 win season.

I was watching the game with people who had no vested interest, a Knicks fan and some Hornet lovers. They asked me why I smelled like cigarettes and week old sweat. I told them I had the same clothes on. I told them I had to drink High Life. I told them I had to stand. They ripped on me the appropriate amount.

And, when the Cavs won, they fist bumped me and watched me pop champagne (I had a feeling I’d need it so I pre-planned) while yelling explicit words. Cleveland won and that’s all that matters. Everything I did was justified because Cleveland won. They dominated for four minutes and thirty-seven seconds, forget the previous three and a half quarters.

Cleveland getting this championship is about being able to forget the circumstances surrounding the past 50-plus sports seasons and just being an unabashed fan. I’m We’re justified.

The Warriors had the better regular season and story.The Cavs struggled during the year. Even during the playoffs, there was talk about them running too much isolation stuff and not being able to defend at high enough of a level. There was talk that no team has ever come back from being down 3-1 in the Finals. That doesn’t matter to me though, they’re the champions. “They’re the best team from this past year. LeBron is the best player in the league. Kyrie is better than Curry. Tristan Thompson is better than Draymond Green. Dan Gilbert is a baller.”

When people question any of those statements, I can just say, “Who won the title.” And, it’s all because the Cavs were better than the Warriors for the final few minutes of one final game. I’ll never mention that though.

Cory Hughey (who watched the game with Mojo)

I apologize, but I need to take a moment to release my veins on the floor. I just can’t deal with all of this emotion at once. I’ve been suffocating on anger, sadness, loss and regret for months. The Cavs have been my subterfuge for years, and as much as I wanted to quit them after the Blatt firing and LeBron’s game of poking us with a stick digitally, I just couldn’t because I needed them to get away from it all.

This blog isn’t just a soap box to shout on for me. It’s a personal time capsule. I was brought aboard just after coming home from California in late 2014. My return wasn’t greeted by a pep rally, and I didn’t promise any championships. I came home because I knew that my parents were rusting without me, and that neither had much longer. I lived with my father for the first couple months after I came back. The Case for Citizen Sans was penned from the snug middle bedroom of his home.

Two mornings after my girlfriend cheated on me with a former coworker, I was finishing up an appropriately themed recap from the April 9th loss to the Bulls. As I was formulating the final paragraph that would tie it all together, I received a text from my sister asking if I was awake. A moment later I found out that our father had passed in the night, and that I was halfway to no longer being a son. Nate finished the article, and I went to quake with my family.

All of the emotions from April had a reunion for me during Father’s Day weekend. I returned to the Crab Co and worked with my ex on Saturday. My hands shook for an hour because what I had wanted to put them on for months was just through the bar door. I barely slept that night. Two hours tops. I woke up early to put together a 5 on 5 before work. Work. Work was an absolute nightmare. Our point of sale system crashed during a huge sale. I threw up from my nerves three times. I just couldn’t keep anything down. I couldn’t eat, because I was being eaten.

I debated going out to watch the game, but I didn’t know if I should be in public for it. Would I throw up again? Would I cry? A part of me wanted to just sleep through the game and awake to realize that my world was now in technicolor in the Emerald City. I watched the game alone with Mojo, but my anxiousness didn’t settle a bit. At one point I wished that I had more fingers, so that I’d have more nails to bite.

I was pretty emotionless throughout the game until Kyrie hit the final three. That’s when I believed. That’s when I rose to my feet. Of course it couldn’t just be easy on us. LeBron had to go crashing to the floor and hold his shooting wrist before a trip to the line to make it a two possession game with 10 seconds left. That’s so Cleveland. Of course he missed the first one. That’s so Cleveland.

When the second went in, tears just fell from my face. No sobbing. No bawling. They just fell. I knew it was over, all of it. The curse. The Mistake by the Lake. The sports induced self-hate. The Cavs just proved that the impossible is only impossible, until it’s not. They defied history. No one, and I mean no one outside of Ohio gave them a shot, and they won the damn title anyway. That’s so Cleveland. I’ve needed the Cavs to make me forget for years. Sunday night, I needed them to remember how good life really can be.

Mallory Factor (who hosted a watch party with friends in New York)

In the seconds, minutes, and hours following the *moment* (which, by the way, felt like an eternity) I kept waiting for the tears to come. By the time I finally fell asleep at around 3:30, I experienced many emotions, including what can only be described as euphoria, still, I fell asleep with dry cheeks.

That was not the case by bedtime Monday.

Without, hopefully, sounding trite and reductive, literally everyone in the world has their story. How moments in our lives come together to form that story is what, I think, makes the camaraderie of sports so substantial.

In the days preceding the finals, many of my fellow C:tBers shared their recent stories of hardship and sorrow. The common thread has, and will likely continue to be, that, through this kinship of sport, everyone found some, however small, sense of solace. And that is substantial.

Though I haven’t really shared mine, I, like them, have gone through my own set of sadness over the past nine months. In September, I lost my uncle, without question the most significant male figure in my life. Very shortly after began the slow, painful end of a very important relationship. To put it simply, I was a mess.

Unlike my cohorts, who found comfort in basketball, I was essentially inconsolable and, for the most part, shut out most of the outside world.

While losing the relationship was a major moment in my life, the continuous, nagging ache of losing my uncle did (and still does) stand with me as a much more impactful moment in my life. I had planned, in the days proceeding my uncle’s death, to write an obituary similar to the one I wrote for his father on C:tB in early 2013, but the sadness from both the death and the relationship was too much. I deeply regret not having done that.

I am blessed, in sports terms, to be born and raised in New York. I’ve experienced a lot of winning in my life – the Yankees, the Giants, the Rangers – all teams I was brought up loving. But above all those teams are the Cavaliers and Ohio State – Uncle Ron bestowed on me many things, none more significant than my love for those two teams. I’ve always felt a connection to Cleveland – my mom was born and raised on Mount Carmel Road. Many years later, I chose by my own volition to attend Case Western Reserve University. But no single person did more to connect me to a city (and a state) than my mother’s brother-in-law, who adored those teams through good and (mostly, and sometimes agonizingly) bad, but always with passion. Though the experience of watching a game with Uncle R could sometimes be infuriating (seriously – if I had a dime for every time he cursed Byron Scott, I’d be loaded), but we all continued to watch with him, in the hopes of experiencing his joy when they finally won.

Which brings me back to Sunday night. Sitting on the floor of my apartment, moments after Mo Speights hoisted a last-ditch three, as my friends jumped on top of me and everyone hugged, I immediately thought about my uncle. But my emotions were so wild, and the moment so surreal, that I couldn’t fully process everything. The first thing my mom, who is also a huge Cleveland sports fan, and I said when speaking after the game was that my uncle would’ve been overjoyed. I know this would’ve meant the world to him.

15 hours later, sitting at desk at work, listening to Cleveland sports radio – hearing the tearful stories from Clevelanders of all types about how much this win meant, I found emotional clarity. Like them, and I am sure you as well, this win meant a lot to me for deeply personal reasons. For the city I’ve heard so many stories about from my mom, who loved, for the in which city I spent four amazing college years. For my mother Fran, who no longer has to call me up after an Indians loss, a Browns blowout, or a lost Cavs season saying “there really is something wrong with Cleveland. We are cursed.” For the me of 2011 who, while working the miserable job of a consultant at an insurance company, started writing for C:tB as an outlet for the creativity I had to hold back while working my day job. For the me of 2016 who spent so, so many dark, depressed nights on my couch, alone, watching the Cavs, while trying to mend a broken heart while trying to understand and cope with the loss of a father figure.

Above all else, this win meant a lot to me for my uncle. As the seconds ticked away, I am 100% certain that every single family member I have thought about Ronald, Ron, Uncle Ron, Papa, dad. Leave it to sports to help you find the answer: his mind and body may be gone, but, more clearly than ever, his soul remains. All it took was a 52 year draught ending in historic fashion to remind me.

Ben Werth (who watched in the middle of the night from another country)

The initial elation of winning a championship has been replaced by a dull sense of confused satisfaction. When I finally fell asleep past 6:45 AM here in Deutschland, I literally dreamt that the Cavs had actually lost. I woke up with the familiar feeling of failure only to be reminded by my phone that, indeed, the Cavs are champions. This is going to take some time to process. Kyrie can be a great defender. LeBron can win a title against an all-time great team completely on his own terms. Having evidence that contradicts previously held beliefs forces me to change my opinion about many things, and I will get there. Most people won’t. The media is already babbling about LeBron leaving again. Apparently the specific words in his letter that explained how he wants to raise his family in NE Ohio don’t register. His words don’t support their narrative. Clevelanders will have to find something else to take pride in other than being “most tortured fans”. We will get there.

After LeBron’s letter, I wrote a piece for the blog about what it meant for Cleveland to be a winner. I would see apparel from my hometown all over the world. A Cavs hat would be a common sight so many thousands of miles away from home. It has come true. Just last week, I saw a pair of Germans rocking Cavs jerseys. When they think of Cleveland, they don’t think of a river burning or heartbreak. They simply think of success. Now, it won’t only be “best player in the world”, it’s “best team in the world”. To them, Cleveland is a destination, not something to be flown over.

I’ll go play pickup tonight and the guys will probably tease me about my previous desire to trade Kyrie Irving. They will congratulate me on the championship as if it is something that I have accomplished. I will take it all and maybe this feeling of sports success will grow more comfortable. Maybe not. After a lifetime in a dead marriage, this new winning partner could bring out the best in me. Or more likely, just give me subtle joy as I continue my same life path. Either way, I’m excited to find out.

Tom Pestak (who watched with his Wife)

Much like LeBron packed his “Ultimate Warrior” T-Shirt for the flight to Oakland, I had an inkling that a Game 7 upset was a real possibility.  I privately told friends that I gave the Cavs a 49% chance of winning – it just felt like the Cavs had a combination of physical aggression balanced by a calm sense of destiny, whereas the Warriors were coming unraveled.  This inkling led to some unfamiliar thoughts throughout the layover: “What will this mean?  How will I react?”

It’s been different that I expected.  After a few primal screams and joyous hugs with my wife, I didn’t melt into a puddle of tears (I thought I would) over the memories of being 6 and listening to Joe Tait under my pillow while pretending to sleep: “Price…over time line into the ford court…dribbles right-passes to Ehlo-now to Nance.  Nance…looking…looking…hands it off to Price..totheline totheLANE – scoops it up AND IN.  And now we have a whistle…and what?” (Lake Business Products Jingle rushes back)

I really didn’t have a lot of nostalgia.  Didn’t think about my journey as a fan.  I felt good for the players and coaches, got a little teared up watching J.R. Smith’s press conference, but this most unlikely comeback has simply given me a slow-burning cigar of joy.  I’ve been delving into the significance of this victory from so many angles.  There’s so much depth.  There’s the NBA History angle of coming back from 3-1.  There’s the equally impressive feat of knocking off a 73-win team that seemed unbeatable and talked a lot of trash after going up 3-1. There’s the satisfaction in witnessing LeBron’s mythical journey come full circle, cementing his legacy as one of the greatest of all time.  Then there’s waking up to the realization that 31-year-old SportsScience-Guinea pig LeBron just spent two months vanquishing opponents not only with basketball genius and veteran craftsmanship, but with ludicrous chase down blocks and falling-to-a-stop-before-getting-up-and-REsprinting-past-everyone-alleyoops!  The rumors of his athletic demise were greatly exaggerated.  It’s just awesome.  EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!  I’ve evolved from a roaring, hyperventilating fanatic that just vanquished simple-minded Kobe fans on message boards to someone managing a tight-knit Cavs community and doing weekly radio segments to analyze the Cavaliers and the NBA-at-large.

Only now do I realize: it’s so nice to do this without the latent anxiety.  I spent all season hand-wringing about Kyrie’s fit with LeBron.  They won.  Kyrie was phenomenal.  I used to write and talk Cavs like I was a zoo tour guide – “and over here we have a Dellavedova from The Outback.  His ability to play downhill in the pick and roll forms a symbiotic relationship enabling LeBron’s metamorphosis to a Karlicus Maloneius.”  But part of me felt like I wasn’t just edutainment for the guests – I also had to scare them about endangered species and worry about the welfare of the animals, even though I’m not a vet.  Now I feel like a grinning 6-year-old oohing and awing at the cheetahs and giraffes and wombats and of course, the Lion.  No anxiety, no fear, just appreciation and joy.

EG (who watched with his family… both present and in spirit)

When I woke up Sunday morning, I expected to be filled with the emotions I’d grown accustomed to feeling on monumental game days as a Cleveland sports fan. Alternating somewhere between blind optimism and overwhelming dread. Strangely, I found myself to be inexplicably calm. Maybe it was because it was also Father’s Day, and I had other things occupying my consciousness… or maybe it was the sense of finality that comes with a Game 7.

I felt this vibe flow through me as I wrote the Preview/Live Thread. I thought of every important game I had watched throughout my life (Cavs, Browns and Indians), and how so many of them were shared with the architect of my love of Cleveland sports… my dad. He had always been there for me after the inevitable defeat to help console me when the unthinkable happened. That was my dad. An un-extinguishable positive in a hurricane of negativity. I thought about what he’d say to me about this game if he were still here… and so I shared that sentiment at the end of that post.

I spent the day enjoying being a father to my own kids… relishing the time with them. Before the game, I went to put on my “All-In” Cavs shirt… then stopped when another caught my eye. A simple black t-shirt with a simple message printed on it… “Everything Happens For A Reason.” That became my simple uniform of choice. When it came time for tip off, I felt a tangible kinship and connection with the entire C:tB on-line family. I wanted to soak in every moment, every comment, every emotional high and low so I could do my best to capture it in victory or defeat. The calmness prevailed. My son, like me when I was his age, had a hard time watching the game. His Cleveland sports misery wasn’t as deep as mine, but he could sense he might be at the beginning of a long road of heartbreak. My daughter, still new to the experience, had less of a sense of dread. I wanted to be that calm in the storm for them both… and I surprised myself by doing just that.

It’s hard to put a finger on the moment when the realization hit that the Cavs were going to emerge victorious and end this half a century drought. Maybe it was LeBron’s epic block… maybe it was Kyrie’s dagger… or maybe Kevin’s amazing defense on Curry. Whatever it was, I could just imagine my dad’s words… “They’re gonna do it, son. They’re finally gonna do it.” When the final buzzer sounded and Kevin rushed to embrace LeBron… I did the same with my kids. I must have hugged my son for five minutes… tears running down our faces. I felt an unfettered joy surge through me. Joy that he’d always have something I never got to share with my dad. Joy that he’d be able to share this someday with his children. I looked to the heavens and said “They did it, dad. They finally did it.”

Afterwards, a friend of mine from here in Los Angeles texted me congratulations. He told me to enjoy it, since it might be the only one we get. I wrote back, “You don’t get it, man. All we ever needed or wanted was one.” And it’s true. One is all it took.

Thank you Cavs. Thank you Cleveland. Thank you dad.