E D I T O R ’ S N O T E
AMERICANWAY
FEBRUARY 15 2009
10
PHOTOGRAPHBYDANNYBOLLINGER
TheClevelandCavalierswere
among the darlings of the Na-
tional Basketball Association.
They were young. Fast. Talent-
ed.And theywere thecity’shope
forfinallywinning itall inapro-
fessional sport. The Cleveland
Browns had had that dubious
distinctionnot long before this,
but in two consecutive years,
they dropped the ball (one time
literally).More than that, when
Denver Broncos quarterback
John Elway orchestrated “the
Drive” in the 1987 AFC Cham-
pionship Game and then when
Browns running back Earnest
Byner made “the Fumble” in
the 1988 AFC Championship
Game (also against Elway and
the Broncos), the city of Cleve-
land bore the brunt of ridicule
because of its choke artists in
theNFL.
Cleveland’s wounds hadn’t
yet healedwhen this 1989NBA
game got underway, but hopes
had been rekindled. It was a
different sport against a team
from a different city. And the
Cleveland Cavaliers had beaten
the visiting Chicago Bulls six
timesduring theregularseason.
Now all they had todowaswin
GameFiveathome. Insodoing,
they’d cathartically dispel those
two heartbreaking football sea-
sons that defined the Cleveland
Browns and the city itself.
My father managed to score
us two tickets to that game
at the Richfield Coliseum.
Thirteen-year-old me sat there
andyelledwith the restofCleve-
landastheCavsbeattheBullsup
anddownthecourt fortheentire
game.With six seconds left, the
Bulls’ best player, number 23,
Michael Jordan, hit a jump shot
to give Chicago a 99–98 lead.
The very next play, our man,
forward Craig Ehlo, drove the
lane and scored a layup to put
theCavsahead100–99with3.2
seconds remaining. The Rich-
field Coliseum went bananas.
It was so loud, I couldn’t hear
mydad yelling right next tome.
And I couldn’t hearmyself yell,
either, for thatmatter.
Chicago called a time-out
and drew up a play.When play
resumed, and with one stroke
of the wrist, number 23 hit
“the Shot” overCraigEhlo. Just
as the Coliseum had been the
loudest collection of voices I’d
everheardonly3.2 secondsear-
lier,whenJordanhit that jump-
er from the foul line towin the
game for Chicago at the buzzer,
the ensuing 3.2 seconds were
the quietest I’d ever heard from
a building packed with more
than20,000people.
I cursedMichael Jordan that
day. I cursed the city of Chicago
— the same way I’d cursed the
city of Denver those two years
ina row.
Fast-forward 18 years, to
June2007.
For thefirst time in franchise
history, the Cleveland Cavaliers
were in theNBAFinalsand fac-
ing theSanAntonioSpurs,ady-
nastyof a team. TheSpurswere
up on Cleveland three games
to none and were only one
win away from capturing their
fourthNBA championship. But
the Cavs had been down before
—one series earlier, against the
Detroit Pistons. A comeback
was coming. I was so sure of it
that I calledmybuddy inCleve-
land and told him to find two
tickets: Iwasflyingup.
Once again, the Cavaliers
brokemy heart. The Spurs beat
us on our home court. Dream
deferred. Again.
And even though my Cleve-
landCavsmemories are dashed
year after year, and notwith-
standing the fact that we’re in
great shape right now after the
All-Star break but might very
wellblow it, Ican’thelpbut love
this game. I think a Cleveland
championshipwould rank right
up there emotionally with the
birthofmychildren.I’ve learned
to be a gracious loser, though,
Dateline:May7, 1989
Location: Richfield Coliseum, outside
Cleveland,Ohio
The Scene: First round of the NBA
playoffs
ILoveThisGame
AdamPitluk
Editor
which is why we photographed
two of the NBA’s powerhouses,
San Antonio’s Manu Ginobili
andTonyParker, for this,
Amer-
icanWay
’sfirst-everNBA issue.
(Even though the tandem was
the biggest Cavs-killer of them
all in the2007Finals.)
Whether you’re a basketball
fanorwant tobecomeabasket-
ball fan because all the people
inyour lifeare fans,wehaveyou
covered. We go inside the NBA
and give you access to the play-
ers, the teams, the venues, and
evenDavid Stern, the commish
himself. The season is half over
and theCavsare looking strong,
but don’t look for me in the
stands if theymake it to the Fi-
nals this year. I’ll bewatchingat
home, alone inmy room, pillow
at the ready to catchmy tears.
Aw, who am I kidding? If the
Cavsare in theFinals, I’m there,
even if itmeanshavingmyheart
broken. Again.
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