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JUL
02

San D after 2


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After celebrating my two year mark, here’s what I’ve come up with:

 

Cons

Buying a home (and really accumulating savings in general) is a pipe dream (-25)

Sunburns (-5)

Mysterious yeast-based skin condition (hypothetically) (-20)

Traffic (-50)

No plastic bags at grocery stores (-3)

Lots of black widow spiders (-10)

Drought (-7)

Lots of Golden State Warriors fans (-12)

Total: -132

 

Pros

No snow (+30)

The ocean (+25)

Disneyland proximity (+20)

Family proximity (+35)

Sunshine (+40)

Sparkly job (+18)

Ideal temperature range (+50)

Sports/Oscars not on late at night (+5)

Total: 223

 

Some might say I have screwy priorities. I say, I think I’m doing alright.

JUN
17

Picture This

Picture booking a trip to Cleveland for game 6 of the NBA finals and then realizing with your team down 3-0 that game 6 is likely not to happen. Picture changing your plans at the last minute and booking the last seat on a plane to Cleveland for game 4. Picture lugging the dresses and heels and suits you wore over a week-long work trip with you across the country, as the last minute-ness of the change in plans doesn't allow you to go home first.

Picture upsetting your ex's family by asking in this state of last minute-ness (ie. no hotels available) if you can crash with them for a night. Picture sobbing in an airport bathroom when you realize the door to their friendship is no longer open, even though this is probably as it always should have been.

Picture getting pulled over in Cleveland and trying to get out of a ticket when you say you're here for "the game" and have a California drivers license. Picture the Cavs shirt you're wearing saving the day. Because it does.

Picture winning.

Of course, I could tell you to picture it all falling apart in the next game anyway, but that really doesn't matter. Because if you can picture 20,000+ fans erupting in unison after each (record-breaking) three-pointer, if you can picture being unable to keep yourself from jumping to your feet every possession, if you can picture the glee in watching Steph Curry momentarily being made to look like a lost little boy, if you can picture hope and belief in their most unadulterated forms ("Cavs in se-ven!"), then you will have gotten what you came for.

So picture that.

 

NOV
04

Cleveland Against The World

It was almost hard to root against the Cubs.

Unless you’re me. In which case it was very easy. Because Cleveland is my heart.

And so I’ve been recovering on behalf of a city that has such a long-standing history of sports tragedy and misfortune. I’ve been recovering from blowing a 3-1 lead and losing a world championship. I’ve been thinking a lot about Golden State, about how confident they must have felt being up 3-1 against the Cavs, and how much it sucks to be on the other side of that. The side that doesn’t come back in epic, historic fashion. Can you say karma, Cleveland? I can. Dammit.

I’m not such a horrible person that I’m not happy for the Cubs. I am. I am happy for them, for the curse being broken, for their well-deserved championship after such a stellar season. So, no, I’d like to think I’m not a horrible person. I’m just a loyal one. I’m loyal to Cleveland. Heck, I spent a small (read: not at all small) fortune last week to fly to Cleveland and see one of the games. In fairness, I was mostly there to see my Cavaliers get their rings, raise their championship banner. But I was also there for the Indians. I was there because it was pretty much Cleveland’s best day ever. And if you’re at all familiar with Cleveland, the Cavs’ arena is right next door to the Indians’ ballpark. So to be standing there, right in the middle of it, a team about to raise a championship banner on one side and a team about to play game 1 of the World Series on the other, was something to savor. More than that—it’s something you know you’ll never experience again. Like, ever.

Despite the loss, I’m proud of the Indians. I’m proud of their little team that could. I’m proud of Cleveland; a city that’s had an indisputably red-letter year. And despite the cold weather that my now-wimpy California self is completely unsuited for, not to mention the huge hole in my pocketbook, I don’t regret the trip in the slightest. In a crowd of tens of thousands, I ran into the man I once loved, and I still don’t regret the trip. See what I mean about Cleveland being my heart? Some cities are just in you. You are tied to them in ways you’ll never shake. Not that you would even want to. And why should you? Until next time, Believeland, I’ll be dreaming of you.

JUN
20

For Cleveland

The thing about Cleveland is it was only mine for seven years. That’s as long as I lived there. But it’s the first city that really felt like mine; the first city that saw me moving across the country, knowing no one, and beginning to build a life for myself. It’s also the first city I ever lived in that had an NBA team. So, in a way, the Cavaliers were probably destined to be mine, too.

I was surprised during these finals how many people didn’t think that the Cavs would win. Very nearly everyone predicted a Warriors repeat. I confess being down 3-1 was a bit foreboding. I myself was in Cleveland for game 4. Oakland is a lot closer, but I flew my Californian ass to Cleveland and cheered my heart out along with 20,561 others; 20,561 others who left Quicken Loans arena probably just as discouraged as I was. But the thing is, it wasn’t over. And just before getting on a plane and winging my way back west, I said to someone, “All we have to do is win three in a row.” And I was being sincere, in that, taken one game at a time, I didn’t see how it wasn’t possible. Even probable. Them boys were on a mission. To me it seemed so obvious that they wanted it more than Golden State. They wanted it for Cleveland.

I’ve run into some who can’t root for Cleveland because of the seeming fickleness of the fans. The fact that we loved LeBron, hated him, and then loved him again. As a person who lived in Cleveland for the best of the LeBron years, the years he played for Miami, and then was still living there when he made the decision to return, I can assure you that it was certainly a fascinating fandom flip-flop. But it’s really not that hard to understand. We were hurt, indescribably so. “The Decision” was a lousy way for a star athlete to make such an announcement. But if you read the essay LeBron wrote that accompanied his decision to return to Cleveland, he addresses the folly of “The Decision,” and explains why coming home and bringing a championship to Cleveland was, he’d realized, more important. Hurt as we were, you couldn’t read that essay without feeling not only that you were witnessing growth, but also sincerity. So is it any wonder that when I heard the news—while in the dressing room of the Anthropologie store on Chagrin Blvd.—I broke into a smile that wouldn’t go away? (Let me say, for the record, that I sometimes miss the low cost of living that allowed me to even shop at Anthropologie in the first place something fierce.)

I have wanted this for Cleveland for all of those seven years, and the two since I left as well. I realize that’s not nearly as long as many Cleveland fans; fans who have endured decades (or a lifetime) of their teams coming up short. But it’s long enough to feel a sense of satisfaction over last night’s win that goes beyond a mere victory or title. It’s long enough to have cried when that buzzer sounded. And it’s certainly long enough to be a Cleveland fan for always. Hats off to you, Believeland. You deserve it.

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