The Cavs, Family, and Pure Joy

I’m rehashing my night the Cavs won the first Cleveland title in decades. It may seem like old news to you but after this horrible week of violence I wanted to remind myself there are still moments of pure joy to be found.

The Block: Now forever etched in Cleveland Sports lore. When Lebron James chased down Andre Iguodala in the last two minutes of game seven of the NBA Finals, I let out a scream like I was a 5 year-year old being informed they could stay up past their bedtime. Mind you I’m a 33 year old man who can barely make it past 9pm on weeknights and 10pm on Weekends. I spent the next minute of game time nervously pacing in front of the TV. A Cleveland Sports team had a chance to win a title.

The Shot: Now forever etched in Cleveland Sports lore. When Kyrie Irving hit a three pointer with just under a minute to play, I had the opposite reaction of the yell from “the block.” I suddenly got really quiet like I was 5 years old holding onto a big secret and if I let it out it won’t come true. I was glued to the tv for the next 58 seconds, as I hoping, wishing, begging, and pleading with karma, buddha, God, and whatever other spirits were willing to listen. Let the Cavs hold on, oh dear please let the Cavs hold on.

The Stop: Now forever etched in Cleveland sports lore. With the seconds ticking away, Kevin Love played good “enough” defense to force a missed three pointer. I had that same feeling a 5 year old does opening a birthday gift, “I do not know what it is, but it’s going to be awesome!”  For the first time it entered my head, a Cleveland sports team might win the championship.

The Buzzer: When the horn blew and the Cavs had won I finally exhaled, picked up my wife and twirled her around in the air with my suddenly wide awake dog trying to jump on me to join in on the fun. There was the phone call to my brother as we both basically yelled at each other for the first minutes of the of the phone call. We put each other on speaker phone and had a celebratory drink in honor of the Cavs first championship win.

The Call: Eventually the phone call with my brother turned to our Dad and Grandpa and how it would have been great for them to witness this moment.  How much shock they would have been in to have Cleveland’s time finally come. Memories of watching the Cleveland teams with my Grandpa in his house while he wore an unbuttoned flannel shirt and sat in his whitey tighties underwear crossed my mind. I pictured Grandpa Derryberry rising out of his chair and doing a little dance and I let out a chuckle..

The Pie: Anne asked if there was anyway I could go to bed. I shook my head violently no, and stated I really didn’t know what to do with myself. She suggested Pie at 24-hour joint up the road from our house. We stopped and picked up one of my NBA junkie friends. The special pie that night was the Slam Dunk, how fitting.  I basked in the glow of a title, the pure moment of joy. As we age we become less engaged by the wonders around us, we can get really happy, but rarely do we allow ourselves to go full fledge joyful. To beam with energy, and force others around you to be infected with your joy. For a number of reasons we leave those type of moments to the youth of the world, when really, everyone at every age could use some more of the juice I was feeling.

The Meaning: Sports ultimately mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. My salary wasn’t going up tomorrow at work, I didn’t get credit toward my masters degree by the Cavs winning, jobs won’t come racing back to Cleveland, and I doubt any of the Cavs players will be sharing their large paychecks with me. Heck I would take just meeting Kevin Love and getting a picture holding his WWE Championship Wrestling belt (feel free to forward this to him on his facebook, or twitter).  But and there is a big BUT. Because we do not allow ourselves to let go emotionally over getting ice cream, or staying up past our bedtime, sports take on a greater meaning for many of us.

It allows us to bond with past and future generations.  It allows two brothers to reminisce about times with their father and grandfather. It allows us to plan a trip to watch the Cavs next year, as the defending NBA Champs (I like the sound of that). It allows me to twirl my wife around the house, and then go enjoy the Slam Dunk Pie. It allows me to experience pure unbashful, will not hide it, JOY. So I sit here writing this wearing my 2016 Cavs Championship T-shirt. I know the world is not in a good place with what occured in Orlando, Turkey, Baton Rouge, Minneapolis, Dallas and countless other places. That is the reasons why sports matter, because the world needs more joy. Who couldn't (besides Golden state fans) find joy and hope in 1.3 million Clevelanders of all races, say damn the fear of public gatherings. A collective city said, I want to see JR Smith shirtless, I want to see King James parade the trophy through the streets of Cleveland, and I want the world to know “We are joyful and we are the champs!”  

All the pain we are experiencing can numb us from the wonderful moments in life. We can stop wanting to gather to celebrate out of fear of someone harshly and violently ruining it for everyone. For Cleveland, a sports team and a city can overcome all those emotions of fear, anger, and grief and respond with a party. Within that party there were police officers, politicians, religious leaders, LBGQT members, all different races not getting together to yell at each other. Any reason for a group of different populations to come together and party gives me hope the darkness in society will not win out.  

So yeah you say could sports means nothing, but more importantly, I could respond with they mean everything.