Living Life as a Bunch of Champions

A before-and-after look at BELIEF in BELIEVELAND

1992. 16 years old. High school junior. Dad had gotten us 5 tickets to the Cavs game and it wasn’t just any Cavs game. It was Cavs v Celtics in the goddamn Eastern Conference Semifinals. Price, Daugherty, Nance, Ehlo… John “HOT ROD” Williams. I mean, this was it. A group Magic Johnson predicted in 1989 would be the “team of the 90's” — at home, in game 7, against Larry Legend.

This is pre-Gateway project and Michael White and sin tax and etc. Before the Cavs moved downtown to Gund Arena. And way before The Gund became The Q. 1992 was Cleveland, Akron, Canton, Youngstown, and Kent all agreeing to drive UBER-less! 30–45 minutes to meet-up at a field in the middle of nowhere. A nowhere known for Erie Canal history walks, Country Maid ice cream, and the original Winking Lizard. A nowhere crowned with the concrete glory of the Richfield Coliseum.

Photo: Todd Snyder

That nowhere was everywhere for us. We were 5th generation citizens of the Village of Peninsula. (Disclaimer: This is a pure guess and certainly wrong. So if you’re in my extended family and a better person than me with a sense of history and ancestry and an understanding of our unique place in the timeline and heritage of Northeast Ohio — just shut up and relax. We’ve been there awhile. Point made. Moving on.)

A town named after the way the Cuyahoga river snakes around it with water on 3 sides, Peninsula is home and we considered ourselves a founding family of sorts. And, while I no longer live there, ten minutes into each return visit and I’m bumping around like Jay Z in NYC blaring “Run this Town.” I mean, my uncle is the actual Mayor. Mayor Mayer. Like, for real.

Basically me.

Peninsula and Richfield are neighbors and our house was 5 minutes from the Coliseum — which meant the Palace on the Prairie was OURS. Tickets in hand, my mom loaded us up in the van and drove us to the top of Stine Road. Signs lined 303 for the game “welcoming” the Celtics to town and “congratulating” Bird on what we confidently predicted would be his final game. Paying for parking was for the suckers spilling off I-271. And we weren’t exactly riding INDOOR TRAINS in our house, so mom dropped us off just across the bridge.

Stocks and bonds and college plans and vacationing in places that don’t have easily accessible campgrounds were for other people. Dad’s financial planning was designed to deliver tangible assets that significantly improved our quality of life RIGHT NOW…and tonight that meant flipping our $20 parking fee into halftime hot dogs and a XL pop with 5 straws. It was the kind of financial wizardry a kid can really understand and appreciate. Glorious is the life of a concession stand tycoon. Fuck you, Ricky Schroeder.

Rich people are awesome.

Game 6 had been a disaster with the Celtics torching us 122–91, but no one in the entire state of Ohio expected to win that game. Winning in 6 and not having to endure the crushing anxiety of Game 7 was not in the realm of the possible. Not in Believeland in 1992. Game 7 was the only way this series was ever going to end and so we walked into the warm glow of the arena that night with hope-filled hearts.

Then this happened…

We wiped them out. It was glorious. Jodan’s Bulls were waiting on the other side of this victory and we walked into that series believing anything was possible. We just knocked off the 2 seed and ended Larry Bird’s career. Bring it.

Definitely 1992. Definitely not Mark Price.

And this is the hidden story of what it really meant to live, love, and lose in Northeast Ohio for the 5 decades prior to June 19th, 2016. Prior to all the crushing defeats — the drive, the fumble, the shot, the move, etc. — there was a moment of absolute glory. A moment that inspired us to BELIEVE in the possibility of the UNBELIEVABLE.

The Drive was preceded by one of the greatest games in Browns history. A double OT masterpiece that my 12 year old eyes were blessed to see live on my living room TV. To this day, any mention of Ozzie Newsome brings back hazy highlights of this game. No one outside Cleveland cares about any of this. It was a mid-round nothing. But in Cleveland, it was a reason to BELIEVE. So much so, that this weekend we will mark the 30th Anniversary of the 86–87 season with a tribute to the team during the Browns vs. Jets game. Oh, and we’re 0–7. So there’s that.

AFC Divisional Round Champs! #NeverForget

And this was the pattern. Again and again and again.

Prior to THE FUMBLE was Ernest Byner’s greatest 3 and half quarters of football of his career. BELIEVE.

Prior to THE SHOT was a regular season record that saw the Cavs beat the Bulls all 6 times they played. BELIEVE.

Prior to THE MOVE, the Browns were the preseason pick by Sports Illustrated to go to the Super Bowl. BELIEVE.

I’m just gonna leave this here for a minute so you can really let it sink in.

This is what BELIEVELAND meant to us. The relentless desire to BELIEVE the UNBELIEVEABLE. But, here’s the thing, you can’t believe in the unbelieveable. Not really. You can only pretend to do it. So that’s what we did. We DESIRED to believe and the universe was more then happy to hold the football.

Believeland!

It started as a joke. A cheesy commentary on the lemming-like glee with which we approached each championship cliff. A sarcastic catch phrase that helped us laugh off the misery of showing up in the muni lot to tailgate in week 13 of another lost season of futility.

But then came the return of LeBron. And everything LeChanged. Suddenly usage of the word, BELIEVELAND, began to morph from ironic defense mechanism to an unapologetic source of city pride. People claimed it as a place. A destination. Home. Our army of t-shirt creatives began screenprinting it UNIRONICALLY on American-made TriBlend super-soft tees and $32 somehow seemed like a cheap and affordable way to say, “Yes,” to this homecoming parade of newfound pride.

Stop reading and celebrate faith by buying this shirt. Like, for real. HOMAGE.com.

Suddenly the BELIEVE hidden in BELIEVELAND was not a joke. It was a real thing and, with LeBron back home, the relentless belief in the Cavs was entirely rational. We were no longer believing in the unbelievable. We were believing in LeBron. And believing in LeBron, is believing in the inevitable.

You know the rest. Year 1 we had to deal with Kyrie’s knee and Love’s shoulder and came up short. Nothing given. Everything earned. See you next year, Steph. BELIEVE.

Year 2 was 73 wins. BELIEVE.

Fired coach. BELIEVE.

3–1 deficit. BELIEVE.

For the shot, the drive, the fumble, the move — tragedy was always inevitable. With LeBron, victory was.

And then it came.

We were all brand new. Unbelievable became believable, believable became inevitable, and now — with a new mythology in place (THE BLOCK, THE SHOT, THE STOP) — the inevitable had become actual and 100% real. Believeland had earned a new tagline — City of Champions.

So now we live life on the other side while the sports universe rotates around us. We raise banners, win rings, and host World Series games.

As the FOX announcers tell their audience that the Windians winning Game 1 gives the Cubs an advantage going forward, we post eye roll emojis on Facebook and tag them accordingly. #RallyTogether #WarriorsSuck #ClevelandAgainstTheWorld

R.I.P. indeed.

Most of all, we don’t wait for the inevitable failure — but instead BELIEVE in the passion and talent of our teams. We don’t wait for curses and voodoo and fate to take their course — but instead BELIEVE in the people who call BELIEVELAND home. Frankie, Nap, Kluber, and Chiz. LeBron, Kyrie, Tristan, and Love. Andrew Miller. JR Swish.

We are all LeBron James now.

It might have taken 5o plus years for us to figure it out, but we are all LeBron James now. A City of Champions who finally understand how to BELIEVE in ourselves.

Me and the boy. Champions.

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About ZeroSixOneNine

We are all LeBron James now. Movies & TV & Music & Tech & Innovation & Humor & Sports — delivered with a smile from the CITY OF CHAMPIONS. If you are from the CLE and want to join in on the fun, email us at bunchofchampions@gmail.com.

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