Fan event

Cavaliers fans crowd the stage area of a watch party.

(Lisa DeJong/The Plain Dealer)

Corrie Callaghan, a former Plain Dealer intern, resides in Chicago.

A beautiful thing happened this month as Irish ex-pats from around the globe traveled incredible distances to return to their homeland in support of equal rights. If you have a pulse, it was hard not to feel choked up by the stories and pictures accompanying the "hometovote" hashtag.

As I viewed the images of jubilant people crowded onto buses, trains and planes, returning home with the giddy optimism of being part of something historic and good, I couldn't help but think, "Please God, let this happen to Cleveland."

I live in Chicago, where it's hard to walk one block without running into a Cleveland native. Half of my friends in the city have ties to Cleveland, and we've had an informal pact for years that when Cleveland is poised to win its first championship in our lifetime, we'll return home.

I'm not a huge sports fan; what I love most about professional sports is the electric atmosphere, the sense of camaraderie and community that can form among a group of would-be strangers, united by their team. I made up my mind about going #hometowin in 2005 when I saw what happened on the South Side of Chicago when the White Sox won their first championship in 88 years. Grown men, hugging in the streets, telling reporters in thick Chicago accents, choked with tears, "I just wish my dad was alive to see this." And this from a city that could at least console itself with other sports championships won during the Sox's drought.

It's undeniable that Cleveland is in the midst of a renaissance, but we still, as ESPN always loves to point out when we come close to winning something, have the longest-running championship drought in the country, at a remarkable 51 years. For my parents' generation, the "win one before I die" sentiment is not just a hipster T-shirt slogan but a heartfelt prayer mouthed while lighting votive candles at church.

For all its progress, for all the new gastropubs and microbreweries, for all the mentions on top lists of places to visit, Cleveland still needs the collective ego-boost that a major sports championship would provide. We've come a long way, but there's still a lot of work to be done to make Cleveland the city we hope it can be, as events like the Brelo verdict illustrate.

The archetypal story lines of the local boy making good, of the prodigal son returning home, of the underdog finally having its day, are ones that every person who hails from this city can identify with.

That's why I've already warned my boss that I may need to take a few days off in June, and if you're a Cleveland ex-pat, I implore you to do the same.

We need you with us as we huddle together in living rooms, bars, The Q and, peacefully, on the streets of Cleveland, arms around shoulders, teary-eyed and hope-filled, sharing together in something historic and good, experiencing the reality that no matter where we might live, despite everything that divides us, we are #AllinCLE.

Corrie Callaghan, a former intern at The Plain Dealer, lives in Chicago, where she works as an administrator at a health care agency, grows and prepares vegan food and cheers on Cleveland sports teams with her husband and friends.