Thoughts on the Cavs’ Good Fortune

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Elation. Trepidation. Joy. Dread. Karmic curiosity. Impending sense of doom.

 

Over the 12 hours that have passed since the Cavs won the #1 pick in the draft for the third time in four years last night (unreal, right?), I’ve cycled along these waves of emotions and anxieties like delicate whites in a Whirlpool. To be honest, I hit most of these feelings within the first twelve minutes. When good fortune meets incompetence over and over and over again, it becomes mildly fatiguing.

As I mentioned 364 days ago, when you win things like Draft Lotteries, there is no coherence: there is just exuberance and hypothesis and angst exploding in every direction.

That being said, here are my thoughts about the Cavs winning the #1 pick in the NBA Draft:

  • Let’s be honest, after nearly a decade, if I said, “Quicken Loans Arena” or “The Q”, to an average sports fan on the street, how many would know what I was talking about? So again, as I did last year, I suggest we make the name, “The House That the Independent Accounting Firm of Price Waterhouse Cooper Built” happen.
  • Can we retire the four digit numbers that netted us these picks? They’d look great hanging from the rafters of The House That Price Waterhouse Cooper Built, nestled between Cavs icons like Bingo Smith and World B. Free. Ah, the Cavs and our proud, proud history…
  • I’m not sure a team has ever existed so evenly and precariously on a tipping point between glory and becoming the biggest laughing stock in professional sports. I may be blinded and hyperbolic given how new this information is, but right now it feels like there is no middle ground or low stake outcome. It doesn’t seem possible that they draft one of these three guys, become a 50 win team and fringe contender for the next decade, then retire quietly into the annals of history. It seems like they either add a second star, sign a third in free agency, hire a Hall of Fame coach, and win 2-3 titles, or they become the first team in the history of anything to whiff on back-to-back number one picks, re-hire Mike Brown because why not, strike out in free agency, Kyrie and Dion fight to the death, Tristan Thompson switches back to shooting jumpers with his left hand before giving up on offense all together, and Johnny Manziel eventually starts running point in a marketing ploy gone horribly wrong. These are the only two ways this plays out in my mind.
  • It’s strange, but part of me was happier when we lucked into the top 3 than I was when we landed at #1. There are three phenomenal players in this class (or four, it seems, counting Exum, but I have never seen him and we have a PG so we’ll disregard), and we are desperately in need of phenomenal players. Matthew Dellavadova logged 1,200 minutes for us last season. All three players, in their own way, can slide in and immediately fill a need on our roster (which tells you something about our roster). Two of the three, surely, will combine to appear in 20 All-Star Games. One, inevitably, will bust. The fact that we now have to make a choice seems like a cruel joke we are doomed to fail for your amusement. Part of me wishes we could have just let Milwaukee and Philadelphia make our choice for us. That way, if he busts, we can point to the fact that the other two guys were gone. And, if he succeeds, bonanza!
  • Related, I feel like the Anthony Bennett pick was girl who took up with my best friend and has made it so that I can never trust again.

So yea, there you have it: I am thrilled, as I think a Kyrie-Embid-Insert Third Star is going to bring me all the sweet juices of One Million Championships. And I am bracing for impact, as Embid is inevitably Hasheem Thabeet in disguise. I am all of these things and more. Mostly, my stomach hurts. I need to take a nap.

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