Keeping Up With the Joyces

With tickets to the first game of the “Battle of Ohio” (not a rivalry, regardless of what anyone says) with my buddy Joyce (a Cavs’ season ticket-holder) and the wives, I knew I was in for an interesting evening. The Cavs were showing the game at the Q for free, the Reds were in town, and downtown was actually THE happening place to be on a Friday night.

After watching the Tribe treat Kyle Lohse like…well, Kyle Lohse, the game was well in hand behind Garko’s blast (we decided that his ancestors had a name like Garkopopadopolous or Garkowskivich, which was shortened at Ellis Island) and, honestly, the Reds being on the field.

The Tribe game was, of course, overshadowed by about 15 people in our section checking their cell phones to get the score of the Cavs-Nets game because the Jake offers no updates on the scoreboard. As the Nets crept closer in the 3rd quarter (we had no idea why), the decision was made to forsake the last 3 innings of an Indians win to see the final quarter of the Cavs game. Hustling down the ramp from upper deck, not spilling a drop of beer, we found our way to the main concourse and a TV that was showing “The Donyell Marshall Show” to us and 300 of our closest friends packed around the TV.

We decided that we needed to either go to the Q or a local watering hole to catch the end of the game to (fingers crossed) celebrate a trip to the Eastern Conference Finals. After chugging our beers, we sprinted (yes, sprinted) from Gate B (near the bleachers) to “Local Heroes”, which is the old “Cooperstown”. After nearly throwing up everything that we just Frank the Tanked at the Gate B exit, we caught our breath to make it into the bar for the final 5 minutes of glorious basketball.

There is no more satisfying feeling than sitting in a bar full of Cleveland fans, watching LeBron jump on Marshall’s back during a post-game interview while the Tribe put the finishing touches on a win.

That is, until you start stressing about the Pistons series.

Ah…the joy of being a Cleveland fan – never able to enjoy the moment, only dreading what you assume to be the inevitable.