Witness Betrayal, Again

Cleveland sure "witnessed" something last night: a funeral.

Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe in the end this was a proper burial for a Cavaliers era which, in its current state, is the rotting corpse of an era which we should simply refer to as the “Era of Nothing.” No rings, no parades, and as far as I'm concerned, no memories. Those memories became null and void the moment #6 took his “talents” (or is the term “greatness” now?) to South Beach.

I am a fan of the Cleveland Cavaliers. That will never change. I am NOT a fan of this current roster, however. The way the players were overly friendly and almost envious of their former teammate made my blood boil. We all know the NBA stands for the National Bro Association today, but do the Celtics welcome the Heat with open arms? Do the Magic? Will the Lakers?  (the answer is “no”) When everyone was afraid that the Cleveland fans would embarrass the city in front of the world, no one expected the players would be the ones doing so. That's exactly what happened in a fashion that almost felt like an inside job by players who want out of here.

Mo Williams likened last night to your ex-girlfriend showing up to your wedding, instead last night seemed more like #6 was the one getting married and the Cavs players showing up on a donkey with a bouquet of dandelions trying to get #6 back. Every hug, every smile, every lackadaisical foul attempt was utterly sickening. Cavs fans took #6's betrayal personally, the Cavs players did not, even though #6 basically told them “you're not good enough, I'm gone.” Ultimately, the Cavs played the role of the clingy ex-girlfriend who wanted nothing more than to be back in an abusive relationship after the ex-boyfriend (in this case, #6) sweet talked her a little bit just to get her hopes up.

Is it safe to say that many of these current Cavaliers players want nothing more than to be back with #6 in Miami? That's the theory of many as to why there were no hard fouls: the false hope that they can someday replace the scrubs on the bottom end of the Heat roster and play with the Three Stooges in South Beach, that they can one day be led by their former teammate. They don't have the guts and testicular fortitude to grind on their own and be winners. Much of that has to do with the leadership of that former teammate, for he is mentally soft himself, and helped create that culture of impotence in the face of adversity.

When faced with fight or flight, the Cavs rolled over and died. It didn't matter if the Cavs lost as long as they showed up ready to rattle #6, to plant him on the floor multiple times in potentially flagrant fashion, to fight for each other. Instead, they showed their true colors: that they'd rather be buddies in the National Bro Association than stand up for themselves and their team. The Cavaliers sold out themselves, they sold out their owner, they sold out their coach, they sold out their team, and most of all: they sold out their fans.

They sold out Cleveland, after we sold out (by a much different definition) our arena.

Disgusting. Deplorable. Unforgivable.

The sooner the grass grows over the grave of the Era of Nothing and we move on to a new era of Cavaliers basketball, the better. Get these clowns out of a wine and gold uniform, every last one of them.