Cleveland sports 'curse' exorcized and it's about time: Eric M. Kaleal (Opinion)
It really happened!
CLEVELAND! WORLD CHAMPIONS??
So this is what it feels like!
Cleveland, Ohio, for the first time in 51 years, 5 months, and 19 days since the original Browns beat the Baltimore Colts for the NFL crown, has a world championship.
And it was made possible by favorite son and returning hero LeBron James. The greatest player of his generation, in a performance for the ages, not only carried the underdog Cavaliers on his massive shoulders, but an entire maligned city, as well.
Cleveland. NBA World Champions. All in the same breath. Let that sink in.
Really. Cleveland. The ugly, cold, dreary, river-burning, politically inept, mistake-by-the-lake-punchline, racked-with-self-doubt city with its major inferiority complex and nationwide image-perception issues. It has a world championship.
Cleveland. Home to many of the most loyal, passionate, knowledgeable — and tortured — sports fans on the planet. Even more than titleless Buffalo, Cleveland has known heartache and dejection better than any professional sports market.
Now, the endless wait is over. You’re a world champion.
Cleveland. Where players and coaches either begin their careers as clumsy novices before flourishing elsewhere, or end their storied, championship careers as worn-out shadows of their former selves, hoping for one last far-fetched shot at glory.
No longer. Your regionally native son and greatest athlete came back home, while still in his prime, and delivered you a championship.
Cleveland. Where even the best teams and heavy favorites to win it all seemed to find a way to lose. There was always some organization a tad better, a little more destined to snatch the ring first. And all you could do was watch helplessly, while valiantly stating “Wait till next year!”
There is no more waiting, no more Groundhog Day repeats. Next year has finally arrived.
Cleveland. The poor little have-nots who had to endure more than 50 years of watching spoiled, bigger-and-richer markets strutting off with celebrations so often those cities began to consider champagne showers and downtown parades as birthrights.
There was no sweeter bubbly uncorked and no happier throng cheering the motorcade cruise down East 9th Street in Cleveland, with the Cavaliers’ NBA Championship trophy hoisted high, then these World Champions.
More than a parade, more than a championship — Cavs victory signals new day in Cleveland
That’s you, Cleveland!
Let the singing begin — a long, loud, primal scream of a Hallelujah chorus.
No more bad luck, bad breaks, almost-got-it, second-place consolation prizes.
Let us begin the mass exorcism by collectively burning any and all stock footage of the Royal Order of Cleveland Sports Nightmares: Red Right 88? Gone! The Drive? Dead! The Fumble? See ya! The Shot? Permanently stuffed! The Move? Aborted! The unnamed ’97 World Series-clinching single? Done! And while we’re at it, let us toss into the fire any and all remaining copies of Sports Illustrated’s Indians’ cover curses from 1987 and 2015. Jinxed no more!
Let us dash the ghosts and demons whose reins of terror ultimately stood in the way of Cleveland’s title quests, only to take it for themselves: Terry Bradshaw. Franco Harris. Jack Lambert. John Elway. Bill Laimbeer and the Detroit Pistons’ Bad Boys. Michael Jordan. Tom Glavine. David Justice. Edgar Renteria. Tim Duncan. Tony Parker. Kevin Garnett. Stephen Curry. May your souls feel the pain you dealt an entire city!
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Even the sins and failures of those who represented us are absolved.
Yes, Jose Mesa, even you.
No, Art Modell, not you … not ever.
We all know, fair or not, how winning a major sports championship seems to validate a city. It minimizes whatever flaws and shortcomings with a chest-swelling pride that tends to change negative perceptions of it. Now, the long-suffering fans on the North Coast have some serious bling to brag about, in their renovated city which has never looked better.
And for generations of good people who’ve only known sadness and frustration, let the collective basking commence, in what was once a seemingly impossible, elusive glow.
Cleveland. World Champions.
At last!
How sweet it is!
Eric M. Kaleal is a freelance writer from Seven Hills.
Cleveland sports "curse" exorcized and it"s about time: Eric M. Kaleal (Opinion)
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