So... what?
No shame. No embarrassment. No indignity.
Turn a deaf ear to the national media.
(Although, if you happen to come across Skip Bayless, turn the other cheek and punch him in the opposite jaw. Twice, just on principle.)
With all apologies--not--to the Lakers of the early part of this decade, the Eastern Conference Champion Cleveland Cavaliers got swept by the best team of the post-Jordan era.
There's no crying in baseball, and there's no weeping over the sweeping broomed-up by the team that has won four of the the last nine O'Brien's.
While it lasted, it was a great, great run; one of the best runs in the "storied" history of C-town sports. And this is not a last hurrah. Rather, it's the first sip 'Bron and his James Gang has gotten.
Sure, the sidekicks and supporting cast will change--the day we don't see Eric Snow, Damon Jones and Donyell Marshall playing meaningful Finals' minutes will portend a true contender--but the one constant will remain.
LeBron James.
And that gives us a chance night-in, night-out. Year-in, year-out.
This was but the beginning. The Chosen One is thirsty, and one little trickle from the Finals faucet ain't gonna be enough.
Kudos to the Cavs for a great season and a helluva ride.
As an aside, I feel somewhat bad that my previous post re: LeBron brought about such indignation amongst some of you. I really, really do.
For that, I can only offer up two words of mea culpa:
F
U
Seriously, it's pretty sad when Rich Passan gets the drift of what I'm talking about, and nearly everybody else doesn't.
And, just for the record, some of the things e-mailers suggested I do to myself is physically impossible, especially for a 38-year-old with the limberness and flexibility of a steel beam.
Read the complete post at http://theobr.blogspot.com/2007/06/swept-as-tyra-would-say.html