Beg, borrow or steal. Scan eBay, Craigslist and StubHub. Bribe a friend, ditch the significant other for a night, lay a guilt trip on a wealthy relative. Dig into the vacation fund, take the bus for a week, pack your lunch. Basically, do anything and everything short of not paying the mortgage to get to a Cavs game.
Think back for a moment — it’s depressing, I know — to all the Browns, Indians and Cavs games you’ve been to. The rainy April nights at the Jake when the Indians were off to yet another disastrous start. The cold nights in September when the Indians were long since eliminated from the playoffs, putting the final touches on yet another embarrassing finish with a bunch of guys named Selby and Tyner on the field.
The empty stadium swept by sideways sleet, with fourth-string quarterbacks, has-beens and never-gonna-be’s on the field. Another Steelers loss. Another losing season. About 18 quarterbacks. PSLs. Season tickets down the drain.
There’s “Wrong Way” Ricky Davis and forehead-pounding Darius Miles.
And you know the rest, because you were there or you watched it — and God knows we’ve all talked about it.
This article appears in May 13-19, 2009.
Well said. Bring tissues.