"Don't expect, just enjoy."
...........
During the LeBron era, the Cavs have raised expectations for success. In Cleveland, that says something. It's genetically impossible for us to expect to win. Ninety-nine percent of the time we don't just expect to lose, we know we're going to lose. It's like a game of Clue. We know someone is dead, that's not the issue, we just need to figure out how it happened this time.
But the only reason we're not pessimists 100 percent of the time is because of LeBron. The homegrown savior. The best athlete in the world. The Chosen One. His greatness makes it possible for our miserable city to believe a championship is within reason— a hope that's been here for seven fantastic years.
That's a good thing right? Well, kind of. Like I said, that hope leads to expectations. We have given LeBron that one percent ... so now he has to win it. He has to do it because if he doesn't, sports in this city will never recover. I truly believe that. Seriously, we don't win a title with the best basketball player in the world, and I'm supposed to believe we're going to win a title some other time? Get out of here. So there's that fear. And to top it off, it's very possible that all of this excitement ends after this season. The summer of 2010 has been marked on our calendars since the summer of 2007—the last time we were in this position. LeBron might leave.
Combine all of that and what do you have? A tendency to drift out of the moment. The Cavs won another game in January? That's nice. Wake me up in June. To paraphrase Johnny Moxon, this is one season for the rest of our lives. Last year proved our record doesn't matter. We'll make the playoffs and THEN the games matter. Basketball mortality is a distinct possibility next year. This season, it is championship or fuck off.
And while that's how we should feel for the context of our long-suffering situation, Lady Gaga has a point. We can't let those expectations cloud what's happening in front of us. I know it's a duh statement, but as I've perhaps overstated several times now, we're watching the best basketball player in the world every night. We're watching maybe the best Cleveland athlete of all time other than Jim Brown. It's happening right now in front of us. Should we feel let down if it doesn't end in a title? Should we only halfheartedly follow the regular season, missing games here or there because ... well, it's not playoff time yet?
This time next year, we might be watching Mo Williams lead this same team to 25 wins. Greatness could come and go, hardly saying goodbye, and that will be it. If LeBron leaves this summer, you might as well flash forward to your 80s where you'll be telling your grandkids about the only time Cleveland fans really believed they were going to win a title. Your snotty grandkids will laugh and say, "Cleveland used to have pro-sports teams?" And you'll fight back tears and the desire to smack them in the mouth, and you'll say:
"Yes, we had three major sports teams, and for decades they were unlucky and miserable. And whenever things got good, they turned bad quickly. There were so many near victories and out-right miseries that we developed a complex about it, so much so that it became our entire identity. It swallowed us whole. And right before it all became too much and we all lost our minds and all of our teams left, we had LeBron. He was the best player in the game of basketball. My god, to see him run a team was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. His passes crisp and masterful. His drives to the basket unstoppable. His charisma off the charts. And he was an Ohio guy to boot. We had a connection to the guy that went beyond sports. He was ours, and he was the best. That meant something to us. ..."
And then hopefully you'll trail on and on about all of the memories and highlights LeBron gave us for however long he was here. If there's a title or two to throw in, you'll definitely mention those, but hopefully you'll remember that time he dunked over Tim Duncan to start the year they went to the Finals for the first time in team history; or when he went shot for shot with Dwayne Wade to end a half in a January game in the '09-'10 season; or that time near the end of the '05-'06 season against the Nets when he stole the ball, went like a freight train to the hoop, and literally with three guys trying to foul him to the ground, he jumped and got a shot off and made it—a hoop that led to a big late season win. You'll say, "I've never seen anything like it" countless times. You may even let those tears loose at some point.
And if there aren't any titles to speak of, and you're about to die without ever having seen a Cleveland championship, you'll be bitter. Damn straight you'll be bitter. That's probably why your grandkids hate you so much. But we can't let that possible future dampen our enthusiasm in this moment. We have the rest of our lives to hold onto that bitterness, and we have the rest of our lives to follow other mediocre teams into near misses and tragic failures. But we may only have half a season left with the greatest athlete we've ever seen. Yes, he might leave. But for now, he's ours, and that means something.
Don't expect, just enjoy.
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