Why Cavaliers Fans Aren't Smiling Yet

It's become a little uncomfortable for local sports fans in Cleveland.

Sure, there are the annual rights of spring. An Indians club that began the season with great expectations is off to such a horrific start that it now owns the worst record in the American League and can officially call Carl Pavano the ace of the pitching staff.

That's right, Carl Pavano.

After a stomach-churning 2008 that saw the Browns finish 4-12, the franchise is back in rebuilding mode for the fourth time since its rebirth in 1999. 

But as the NBA playoffs continue, Clevelanders find themselves in an awkward position. Not only are the Cavaliers favored to bring the city its first professional sports championship since 1964, they're living up to the hype.

Monday night's 84-74 victory over the Atlanta Hawks saw the Cavs advance to the Eastern Conference finals. What's scary is it's as if they've had little trouble reaching that plateau.

In sweeping their first two postseason series, the Cavs have won all eight of their games by double digits.

Averaging 33.8 points and 8.3 rebounds per game this postseason, league MVP LeBron James is solidifying his reputation as the NBA's best player while playing the role of Moses leading the exodus from Egypt.

He's also saying all the right things.

"Why should we celebrate?" James said after last night's win. "We're playing for a championship. An advance is an advance. It doesn't matter if you win in four games or you win Game 7. We're happy that we're playing great basketball...but we're not taking for granted what we're doing right now."

There's a look in James's eyes unlike anything I've seen before in an athlete. The look speaks of an unfaltering focus and an expectation of perfection from himself and his teammates.

Every day, friends tell me something to the effect of, "Your Cavs are a lock for a title."

At this point, fans from cities other than Cleveland would be talking smack, ordering NBA Championship t-shirts, and clearing a place on their shelves for a trophy.

But not us.

Veterans of the Cleveland sports scene are treading lightly, afraid of jinxing what outsiders think is inevitable. We've seen the Browns come 96 seconds away from reaching the Super Bowl and the Indians get within two outs of winning the World Series—and without anything to show for it.

The last I checked, the front of the Cavaliers' road jerseys still say Cleveland and that means one thing: The Cavs are just one twisted ankle, blown knee, or some other act of God away from seeing their dream collapse.

Playing the part of favorite is easy in New York or Boston, but not in Northeastern Ohio, where championship-worthy teams go to die. We have no idea how to handle this unfamiliar territory and look at each other thinking, but never utterring the words, "is this the year?"

This has already been the kind of playoff run that should be savored and enjoyed, but history keeps us from doing so.

For the true Cleveland sports fan, there will be no celebration, no prediction or guarantee of anything until the fat lady hasn't just sung, she's packed her bags, left the building and hit the all-you-can-eat buffet.

Until I wake up and see it in the paper the next day, nothing is certain. Even then, I'll probably think I'm only dreaming.