In 1989, I yelled at my dad. I never yelled at my dad. But May 7th, my emotions got the best of me. I was 11 years old.
Michael Jordan had just beat my beloved Cavaliers with the shot, finishing off a three-year stretch of complete Cleveland sports fan misery. I went to church with Mark Price and Craig Ehlo. Only a few weeks after the shot, I approached Ehlo at church.
Me: "Hey Craig" (my dad next to me was appalled that I didn't say Mr.Ehlo)
Ehlo: "Yeah, kid" (It was a huge church, he had no idea who I was)
Me: "What's it like to guard Michael Jordan?" (My dad shaking his head, assuredly appalled and impressed simultaneously, being a former writer and editor)
Ehlo: "It's a nightmare...a complete nightmare."
I had just witnessed the Browns losing in back-to-back AFC Championship games and then an excruciating 1-point loss to Houston in the first round of the playoffs.
I had just witnessed the Indians being on the cover of Sports Illustrated in the spring of 1987. Indian Uprising. Well, we all know how that turned out. One of the worst teams in the history of Major League Baseball, coming off of an 84-78 season, lost 101 games.
I've had the opportunity to move away from the area. I lived in Texas for year. But like LeBron said, there's something about Northeast Ohio that is hard to resist.
I've traveled the country covering college and professionals sports on the broadcast production side for both ESPN, FOX and other networks, but this is home. It always will be. I'm just a kid from Akron, Cuyahoga Falls, and now Copley.
By the way, here's what I yelled at my dad... "Why do we have to live here! I hate it here. Why can't we live somewhere with winning teams?"
Well, there is a season for everything. A time to lose, a time to win. Now is Cleveland's time and win or lose, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.