Thoughts about raising my boys as Cleveland sports fans

The much ballyhooed return of LeBron James to Cleveland finally happened tonight. It wasn’t pretty. Terry Pluto sums up the event and the game. It is enough to say we saw a great disappointment for Cavaliers fans. I did not expect the team to win, but it was an embarrassment of colossal proportions. No offense and the defensive was softer than a rotten stinking soft-boiled egg.

Of course TNT couldn’t wait to trot out the “Cleveland sports is full of fail” package. Which makes me wonder if this repeated exposure to almost certain failure can actually damage the psyche of my children. I’ve always said that it is my birthright to be an Indians fan because my father inherited it from his grandfather. But my great-grandfather was a fan in 1920 and my father was a fan in 1948. They at least tasted the exotic ambrosia of a championship.

I have to describe that taste as “exotic ambrosia” because I have no idea what that taste really might be. Ultimate victory might taste like peanut butter. Still, I encourage my sons to be Browns, Indians and Cavs fans.  I do think that facing disappointment in youth makes a better-formed man. I’m just afraid too much disappointment might ruin one’s optimism.

Which would be a shame, because my boys and I really like peanut butter.