It was July 8th, 2010. Fort Leonardwood, Missouri. 0600 (that's 6am for all you non-military lingo folk). I was in Advanced Individual Training (AIT; basically just an extension of basic training), eating breakfast in the chow hall. If you're lucky, you'll catch a glimpse of the 32 inch TV hanging up in the corner of the room that had the morning edition of Sportscenter for about 10 minutes, until you had to haul ass outta there and get started with the rest of your day. Not a lot was going on at this time of the year. I had two weeks to go until I headed home for the first time in five months, so my mood was pretty positive. Until I glanced up at the TV. The red 'Breaking News' alert was flashing on a loop on the bottom of the screen. LeBron James was leaving the Cavaliers with the intention of joining the Miami Heat. It became official at 9:28 pm that night. It was a major punch to the gut. I remember operating a bulldozer that day, just staring at the dirt in front of me in a complete trance. I got shit from everybody in my platoon. Everybody knew I was from Cleveland. The cover on the next morning of the Cleveland Plain Dealer: A picture of James walking away with a one word caption - "Gone."
When he came back four years later, it was conversely the most elated I'd ever been. I felt more joy on that day than I did when the Cavaliers won the actual championship. The circus was just getting started. The cover of the Plain Dealer the next day, another one word caption: "Home." What a day to be alive. An elation I'll never forget.
And finally, we've arrived at this point (I was told to never start sentences with 'and' but screw it, it's my blog and I'll and if I want to). Game 4 of the NBA Finals starts in a little over twenty hours and there's a strong possibility it's the last basketball game played in Cleveland until October. Which, as everybody on Planet Earth knows, could very well be the last game LeBron James ever dons a Cavaliers jersey. Game 3 was a painful one, although not as painful as Game 1. Nothing will ever reach that territory. Losing the World Series in extra innings didn't resonate like that did. I'm not sure I'll ever be fully over it. The beauty of the internet, is that JR is now a meme. Have you seen crying Jordan? This shit ain't going away. Every time I see it, I want to vomit. I digress. Game 3 was disappointing, albeit predicable. The Cavs battled to stay in it for a majority of the 4th quarter, James hitting a huge 3 pointer to cut the Golden State lead to 101-100 with just about a minute to go. Deep exhale, we have life. Not dead yet. This is good. Then with the score 103-100, the dagger. Kevin Durant, who absolutely ruined the NBA, hits a shot from freaking Sandusky and the game is over. Series over. Season over. Fill in the blank - over.
I was thankful to have watched the game at home by myself. My girlfriend and her family had tickets to a Kenny Chesney concert (I would rather watch Game 1 on a loop than attend a country music concert) and I could manage my stress by screaming and hitting inanimate objects in peace. I'm my typical nervous wreck self when Durant pulls up and launches an impossible shot. I knew it was going in. Everybody did. Finally feeling the weight of inevitable defeat, I collapse to the ground. At that moment, my girlfriend's car pulls in the driveway. I am not ready to face human beings. I may actually throw up. I go in the bedroom and close the door, if for nothing else but to buy myself an extra moment of solitude, staring blankly at the ceiling. Thoughts race through my head. "This is it." Then, the door opens and Kelsey takes a look at my face. "Do you want a beer?" she asks. I nod, still not quite able to speak actual words. She brings me the beer. "Do you want Taco Bell? You can drink your beer in the car." I nod again. My God what a perfect girlfriend I have.
I write this like I'm writing a eulogy, because my gut tells me that James is leaving in the off-season. There are numerous reasons why, and they make me angry, but at this moment I'm not sure that they matter. If this is how it ends, then the man deserves his moment. For donating $42 million of his own money to send less fortunate kids, like how he grew up, to college. For building a school in Akron. For speaking out politically about the numerous injustices going on in the world. For coming back when nobody thought he would.
As a basketball player, I've never seen anything like him. The man that can dunk with the authority of Shaq in his prime and run up and down the floor with the quickest of guards. For all his signature dunks, his 25 straight points against the Pistons in Game 5 of the 2007 Eastern Conferrence Finals vs. Detroit, his spinning left handed layups... his signature moment is a block. We all know it. "OHHH, BLOCKED BY JAMES." That highlight still sends wavelengths through my soul.
So, if this is it, I'm thankful. Watching Game 4 with no stress for the first time in the series, accepting of what will eventually be a defeat. The Cavs have terminal cancer, it is just a matter of time until the succumb. I sincerely hope that they can make it just one more night, if for nothing else so that I can see the greatest player that ever lived put on a Cleveland jersey for just one more night.
When he came back four years later, it was conversely the most elated I'd ever been. I felt more joy on that day than I did when the Cavaliers won the actual championship. The circus was just getting started. The cover of the Plain Dealer the next day, another one word caption: "Home." What a day to be alive. An elation I'll never forget.
I was thankful to have watched the game at home by myself. My girlfriend and her family had tickets to a Kenny Chesney concert (I would rather watch Game 1 on a loop than attend a country music concert) and I could manage my stress by screaming and hitting inanimate objects in peace. I'm my typical nervous wreck self when Durant pulls up and launches an impossible shot. I knew it was going in. Everybody did. Finally feeling the weight of inevitable defeat, I collapse to the ground. At that moment, my girlfriend's car pulls in the driveway. I am not ready to face human beings. I may actually throw up. I go in the bedroom and close the door, if for nothing else but to buy myself an extra moment of solitude, staring blankly at the ceiling. Thoughts race through my head. "This is it." Then, the door opens and Kelsey takes a look at my face. "Do you want a beer?" she asks. I nod, still not quite able to speak actual words. She brings me the beer. "Do you want Taco Bell? You can drink your beer in the car." I nod again. My God what a perfect girlfriend I have.
I write this like I'm writing a eulogy, because my gut tells me that James is leaving in the off-season. There are numerous reasons why, and they make me angry, but at this moment I'm not sure that they matter. If this is how it ends, then the man deserves his moment. For donating $42 million of his own money to send less fortunate kids, like how he grew up, to college. For building a school in Akron. For speaking out politically about the numerous injustices going on in the world. For coming back when nobody thought he would.
As a basketball player, I've never seen anything like him. The man that can dunk with the authority of Shaq in his prime and run up and down the floor with the quickest of guards. For all his signature dunks, his 25 straight points against the Pistons in Game 5 of the 2007 Eastern Conferrence Finals vs. Detroit, his spinning left handed layups... his signature moment is a block. We all know it. "OHHH, BLOCKED BY JAMES." That highlight still sends wavelengths through my soul.
So, if this is it, I'm thankful. Watching Game 4 with no stress for the first time in the series, accepting of what will eventually be a defeat. The Cavs have terminal cancer, it is just a matter of time until the succumb. I sincerely hope that they can make it just one more night, if for nothing else so that I can see the greatest player that ever lived put on a Cleveland jersey for just one more night.
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