Hoha, Cavallieros. It’s the Optimist in Oakland – birthplace of Gertrude Stein, MC Hammer, Al Hrabosky, Sly Stone, Tom Hanks and playground legend Demetrius “Hook” Mitchell, who, according to folklore, once jumped over the Snake River Canyon and dunked a basketball.

And y’all know why we’re here in Hook’s hometown.

Because the day has arrived, my friends. We’ve waited a very long time. But our beloved Cavaliers are back in the NBA Finals and – please allow me to be blunt: they’re here to win the Whole Damn Thing.

In 2007, getting past the Pistons in the ECF seemed like championship enough. The Spurs agreed, and in the NBA Finals immediately afterward, San Antonio waxed the Cavs in four forgettable games. And it was back to the drawing board on the North Coast.

Eight long years have passed, and the Cavaliers are back – four wins away from basketball Canaan.

And if you don’t get a different feel about this go-round, you ain’t been paying attention. Which is why, in today’s column, you shan’t be reading about the Drive, the Fumble, the Shot, the Catch, Red Right-88, Jim Chones’ foot, Art Modell moving the Browns, the ’97 World Series Collapse, the ’07 ALCS Collapse, Bottlegate or the Curse of Rocky Colavito

See, the Wine and Gold didn’t schlep 2,500 miles aboard a crowded Team Bus to cave in to some stupid Curse.

And I’m not going to lay on the super-schmaltz until we’re a little bit closer to caressing the Larry O’Brien trophy’s bulbous Aurelian dome. But this year’s Cavaliers – who’ve battled through adversity all season – have got what top boxing analysts call “the eye of the tiger.” And this June, they’re taking the cake.

When you’ve traveled with the team as long as I have, you can easily gauge when the squad’s feeling strong. And I can tell you that was exactly the case on our journey to NoCal.

TheBron was making his usual rounds, getting guys geared up. David Blatt was regaling our driver, Big Mo, with tall tales of Euroleague hoops. And Timofey Mozgov, per tradition, being the tallest international player on the vehicle, placidly soaked his enormous feet in the beer cooler.

But this spring, because of the relentless TV campaign during the NBA Playoffs –plus the fact that it’s a really cool movie – almost the entire team has seen “Mad Max: Fury Road1.”

For starters, it’s inspired the squad to rename the Team Bus – which is now known as the “War Rig.” Secondly, it’s helped explain the behavior during previous West Coast trips of our two Australians – the team’s High Performance Director, Alex Moore, and of course, everyone’s favorite Aussie antagonist, Matthew Dellavedova.

Being from “Down Under,” when we start cruising through some of the more boring states like Oklahoma or Utah, Delly and Alex immediately feel the urge to crawl out a window and start tussling around atop the “War Rig.” If they start waking guys up, we usually chase Alex off with a broom. But because Delly’s been playing so well, we let him do his thing until he tires himself out.

If we pass through a rough weather patch and Coach Blatt still hasn’t made Matthew (as Coach calls him) come down, the team always cracks up when we hear him out there yelling: “Oh, what a day!! What a lovely day!!!”

That kid …

Some of you readers might’ve also noticed my sweet Playoff Hair™ today – shaped into a fine Elvis2 coiffure for the Championship round.

So far this postseason, I’ve gone full-Shump and donned the sweet middle-part. But today I went with the King to honor our very own King – who’s making his fifth straight trip to the NBA Finals.

I don’t think even Numeral 23 himself could’ve predicted the Cavaliers would turn things around this quickly. But as we now know, through TheBron, all things are possible. And he’s put on a postseason performance for the ages – willing the shorthanded Wine and Gold through the first three rounds with one herculean effort after another.

Stephen Curry was named this year’s MVP and he’s well-deserving of the honor. But the basketball world knows that TheBron3 is still the game’s greatest player. Which of the two will lead his team to the top of the mountain will be witnessed over the next two weeks.

Both players and their teammates know that they can’t win all four games on Thursday night. Both clubs will be extra-focused, but more importantly, they’re going to play their games – which is exactly what we’re going to do in today’s column.

Some of you might be thinking: ‘Hey, Optimist, are you crazy? We’re about to tip off the dang NBA Finals and you’re gonna give us a history lesson?!’

The answers to both of those questions are a resounding Yes. I’m crazy about you readers getting a good education. And it’ll be totally worth it – you’ll see.

With that in mind, today’s Birthdays include El DeBarge, Michelle Phillips, Russell Brand, Noah Wyle, actor Keith David – who drank black-and-tans at a bar I used to work at in Brooklyn, Dennis Weaver, mega-fox Bar Rafaelli, Xavier McDaniel, wrestling legend Gorilla Monsoon, actress/activist Angelina Jolie and the great George Noory, host of “Coast to Coast AM,” the perfect radio show for insomniac crackpots like myself and the people that’ve been watching me.

Dead on the This Day/Still Dead are a pair of sports giants: Don Zimmer – who won six World Series titles as a player and coach and was famously face-planted by Pedro Martinez – and the legendary John Wooden – the greatest college coach of all-times and someone David Blatt quotes frequently, e.g.: “It’s what you learn after you know it all that counts.”

Others that have kicked the proverbial bucket on this day are Youngstown’s own Stiv Bators, a punk rock pioneer who founded Cleveland’s Dead Boys, but went out in about the least punk rock-ish way there is: getting smushed by a taxi cab in Paris.

And we can’t forget about Giacomo Casanova – yes, that Casanova – who was once imprisoned by Venetian inquisitors for being such a cad and bounder, but eventually broke out, leaving only a note which quoted Psalms 118: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.”

No wonder chicks dug that dude!! Casanova died on this date in 1798 with an enormous smile on his face.

OK, remember earlier when I said we weren’t going to mention the Drive, the Fumble, the Shot, the Catch, Red Right-88, Jim Chones’ foot, Art Modell moving the Browns, the ’97 World Series Collapse, the ’07 ALCS Collapse, Bottlegate and the Curse of Rocky Colavito?

Well we’re not.

But we are going to recount a huge day in Cleveland sports history: the infamous Ten Cent Beer Night, which went down at Municipal Stadium 41 years ago tonight.

These days, young hipsters love sporting “Ten Cent Beer Night” t-shirts while safely scarfing down designer hot dogs at the Happy Dog. But back on this night four decades ago, this was no laughing matter.

The seeds of “Ten Cent Beer Night” were actually planted the previous week in Texas when a hard slide against Tribe second basemen Jack Brohamer eventually sparked a bench-clearing brawl. After the game, a 3-0 Rangers victory, a reporter asked Texas manager Billy Martin if his team was bringing their armor with them to Cleveland next weekend, to which Martin replied, "Naw, they won't have enough fans there to worry about."

That week, the Plain Dealer printed a cartoon of Chief Wahoo in a pair of boxing gloves with the caption: “Be ready for anything.”

Billy Martin was wrong and 25,134 thirsty, angry Clevelanders showed up for the Friday night affair. And it didn’t take long for the beers to take effect. One woman ran onto the on-deck circle and flashed her breasts; a naked dude4 sprinted out to second base during Tom Grieve’s home run trot and a father-son combo made their way out to left field where they brandished their buttocks to fans in the bleachers.

By the top of the second inning, fans were pelting Rangers first basemen Mike Hargrove with hot dogs and a few innings later, fans threw lit fireworks into the Texas bullpen.

Though they were completely plastered, Clevelanders still didn’t lose their sense of irony – waiting until the Indians rallied to tie the score at 5-5 in the bottom of the ninth to break out the REAL hijinks.

That’s when a 19-year-old kid ran out to center field in attempt to steal Jeff Burroughs’ cap. At that point, Billy Martin and his squad had enough and came charging out of their dugout with bats in hand. But a throng of hammered fans – some armed with knives, chains, and portions of stadium seats that they had torn apart – surged onto the field while others chucked bottles from the stands.

With hundreds of fans now on the field, Tribe skipper Ken Aspromonte ordered his players to grab bats and help the Rangers, fighting their own fans in the process.

Realizing that order could not be restored, umpire crew chief Nestor Chylak called the game a forfeit for Texas – right before he was struck by a rock attempting to flee the field.

Cleveland sports fans are much more civilized these days. But it’s still inadvisable to trifle with us. It’s what happens when you starve an entire people of a championship for half a century.

That’s about to come to an end, friends. The Warriors are used to fancy-pants Western Conference teams visiting town in some groovy flower-power bus like Ken Kesey’s Merry Pranksters. But will they be ready when the Cavaliers roll in from the Rust Belt on the War Rig?

We’ll find out tonight in Oakland.

We’ve come a long way, knuckaheads – this year and in the decades leading up to this moment. The moment is precious. Treasure it.

Let’s go one game at a time and let’s get these four wins. And in two weeks’ time, all those past heartbreaks will have given way to the sweetest title in the city’s history.

All you have to do is …

Keep the faith, Cleveland

Your brother in arms,

The Optimist