Quarantining Missing-Lebron's 48 Special

Quarantining Missing-Lebron's 48 Special

John Paul Derryberry

It's May 31st, 2007, and I'm sitting in a cottage for abused teens quietly doing all the noncomputer paperwork for the night. It's tedious logging, and I usually run away from that type of work. But, I had struck a deal with my two co-workers. If they let me watch the second half of the Cavs-Pistons game 5 of the NBA Eastern Conference Finals, I'd do the crappy part of the job.

So there I sat with the game on without sound so as to not wake the four sleeping teenage boys in the cottage.  Detroit is the better team and supposed to win. Somehow my beloved home town team, with Lebron born just a stone's throw from Cleveland, came into Detroit with the series tied 2-2. Cleveland hadn't been this far in my lifetime, and I live in Iowa, so I didn't know any Cavs fan to take the day off with to watch the game. So I'm at work logging clients' goals and it's the fourth quarter.

With six minutes left in the game, Lebron has 19 points. I don't remember the score, but it was close. I don't recall what happened next but then Lebron did something inhuman. I jumped on the couch and let out a scream, completely forgetting where I was. Two kids fly out of their room, and my boss runs over to see the commotion. My boss laughs, and the kids shrug and head back to bed. I mouth, I'm sorry, and the boss who was my ride home asks if I'm ready to go in a couple of minutes.

I nod, yes, but I think, "no way, I'll walk home". The game just went into overtime, and Lebron is scoring every time down the floor.  As my boss enters the room, Lebron cuts through the defense and throws down a monstrous slam, and now he lets out a loud gasp, bringing both boys back out of their bedrooms and giving us the same look we give them when they are up to no good. My boss motions for me to move down the couch so he can sit. I refuse. If I move spots, it might jinx Lebron and the mojo he's got going on. 

The game enters double overtime, and now the two boys are watching the game with us since we couldn't keep our shout outs to a reasonable volume. I tell them to root for the Cavs or go to bed. Lebron keeps scoring, and we keep jumping up and down. The Cavs win around midnight central time. I drag myself home giddy. The next day when  I come to work, I have two kids bragging about getting to stay up late. My boss is telling everyone about how we ended up staying at the office until after midnight because I didn't want to jinx the game.  

I'd texted my old boss this week as I thought about that game. "Hey, man, do you remember that Cav's-Pistons game we stayed at work to watch?" Not even a minute passed before he replied back-"Do I? Yes."  My favorite sport should be in full swing of its playoffs now. Baseball should be starting, and countless other activities and sports that people love, live for, and immerse themselves in are not happening. And it's more than a ball going through a net or sporting a bat and glove. For many, sports are a connection to our past, history, fathers, mothers, siblings, and random strangers. We remember where and whom we were with: a life-long link of togetherness. You string enough of those together and you've got yourself a great experience. 

That's why many people are eager to open the country back up: for that connection, those moments that remind us how exceptional it is to be alive and to be connected to others. Is opening back up the right decision. I don’t know but I get why people want it! I miss those feelings, those goosebumps moments.  Not getting them during this pandemic has been hard, not as hard as other's journeys during this time, but hard. Instead of being angry at missing potential new moments, I spent this week remembering as many of them as I could and reaching out to people to tell them that moment still sticks with me. I miss, and it's good to miss. It means it was special.