In 1963 in Garfield Heights, a suburb of Cleveland, my father is born. He's born into a city that, at that time, didn't even have an NBA team. There was only the Indians, who hadn't won a World Series since 1948, and then the Cleveland Browns before they were shipped off by their infamous owner to Baltimore.
My dad had to witness countless of sports mishaps while the city itself fell into economic downturn. "Mistake by the Lake" took on more meaning than just sports, but it was still a sports town through and through, with tragedy after tragedy turning the Cavaliers, Browns and Indian's into the nations punchline.
Growing up in Chicago as a Bulls fan, I love to think about the glory days of Michael Jordan; my dad hates it. He remembers so vividly Jordan hitting "the Shot" that ended Cleveland's first real chance at a title run in 1989, and my mom remembers him being so angry he couldn't talk about it for years. He remembers the mid-90's Indians almost getting a World Series title, but to no avail. And then there were those wretched Browns, in their state-of-the-art stadium losing game after game.
But in 2003, the basketball prodigy of Akron, Ohio, LeBron James was drafted by the lowly Cav's, and a new era was born. I remember being just 8 years old, and my dad saying "this LeBron guy, he's the real deal. He's going to be better than MJ" (he never will be, for the record, but that's for a different article). I remember him going nuts for LeBron's insane dunks, amazing performances, bringing the Cav's back to relevance not seen in Cleveland sports since their pre-Super Bowl football championship.
Of course, with "The Decision", his heart broke again, as did all of Cleveland. LeBron left them in the dust, mission unaccomplished as he then rubbed it in their faces winning two titles in Miami. But when I heard that he was coming back to the Land in the summer of 2014, first thing I did was text my dad and tell him. He was on a plane coming home from a business trip and when he landed he jumped in the airport with excitement and immediately forgave LeBron for the leaving. He and Cleveland had hope once more.
Finally, after 52 years and my fathers entire lifetime, it all came down to one game. An epic, unbelievable, heart-throbbing Game 7 at the best-team-ever(?)Warriors home arena to bring Cleveland it's chance to get it's first title. And, on Father's Day, I got to witness the greatness of both King James and Kyrie Irving, by the skin on their teeth, beat the mighty Warriors. My dad and I both screamed and jumped in happiness and the joy on his face was one that is shared by everyone in Cleveland. I was moved by LeBron's tears and his passion to bring his hometown a ring. He was historically good. That's an understatement; it's impossible to put into words what he means for that city, and for how incredible he played in the Finals.
With almost my whole family from Cleveland, I have a spot in my heart for them; I feel their pain similar to the Cubs' lack of titles (this is our year though!), and the pain of LeBron ending almost every single Bulls playoff run since I've been watching basketball, similar to how Jordan did it to the Cav's back in the 80's and 90's. The tenacity and perseverance of being down 3-1 and then coming back to win the series still leaves me in awe, and I share the feeling of everyone who watched that game that we have truly witnessed history. I felt the pain of the Cleveland sports fan plight, and now I revel in their victorious celebration.
The tears in Cleveland are still there, but now they are tears of joy. LeBron James; mission accomplished.
