So, what did the Cavs mean to me this season?
The Cavs just won their way into the 2015 NBA finals. I was a part of it.
December 21, 2014, Cleveland Cavaliers vs. Memphis Grizzlies at Quicken Loans Arena, Cleveland, Ohio.
Some back story: My parents and I would go to games all the time in the 80’s and early 90’s. Dad would sneak the largest bag of peanuts under his jacket. We’d sit in the upper bar area and watch the games through binoculars. Countless games, sometimes with friends, sometimes with Mom, always with Dad. Dad wasn’t a basketball fan by any means. Actually, he despises the sport due to a tap on the wrist being called a foul. It was just something to do as a family. World B. Free, Ron Harper, Mark Price, Brad Daugherty, and other names I could rattle off, but they aren’t the point.
I go back to Cleveland every Christmas. This year I made it a point to take Dad to a Cavs game. I knew things were getting bad when after I had asked him, his response was, “I’d love to! I’ve never been to a Cavs game before!” Alzheimer’s is starting to take hold of my Dad’s memories and steal from him. So, I took him to his “first game”.
I couldn’t tell you how many assists Kyrie had or how many points Lebron had. I don’t even remember the score. I remember the look on my Dad’s face during the spectacular team introduction. He had never seen that much production in his life. The lasers, the video, and the fire show almost overwhelmed him. I remember how he devoured a Chef Michael Simon turkey sandwich. I remember his many comments on how huge the jumbotron was inside the arena. I remember the smile on his face.
The Cavs won that night and confetti rained from the ceiling. Dad enjoyed his “first game”.
That day, I won.