First off, I think LeBron will be hoisting the Larry O’Brien Trophy in about three weeks. I don’t like it any more than most of you, but things certainly seem to be trending in that direction. Chicago simply doesn’t have the offensive firepower against Miami’s smothering team defense, one of the best in the Association. The Bulls will need to win a game in Miami and the chances of them doing that aren’t particularly good. I wouldn’t be shocked if this series was over in five games, actually.

Moreover, I don’t think either Western Conference finalist will beat the Heat in a potential Finals series. Miami will have home-court against either the Mavericks or the Thunder. Dallas doesn’t have that second prime-time player- it’s basically Dirk and a supporting cast of solid but limited role players. Oklahoma City does, but the Thunder is very young and there’s a whiff of dysfunction in the on-court relationship between Russell Westbrook and Kevin Durant. I just don’t see either team beating Miami, although Dallas would have a fighting chance at least.

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A lot of us who came of age as Cleveland sports fans in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s learned to love the game of basketball by watching the Cavaliers of that era. With their crisp, unselfish style, a lineup of solid citizens that played the game the right way and the shrewd, cerebral Lenny Wilkens calling the plays, those Cavaliers were easy to root for.

They never won a Championship, though, in large part because one towering figure stood directly astride their path. That figure was Michael Jordan. That in itself wasn’t a “Cleveland thing”- after all, the NBA graveyard is filled with the tombstones of great players and teams that never got a ring because of Jordan and his Bulls. But coming up at the same time and in the same division as the Bulls, Cleveland was at the business end of the Chicago dynasty more than any other team. They got it first, most and hardest.

In 1992 the Cavaliers went as far as they’d ever gotten in the Playoffs- all the way to the Eastern Conference Finals. There they met their nemesis from Chicago in a memorable six-game series that would prove to be the high-water mark of those Cleveland teams. This is the story of that series, and those two weeks in May.

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Mark Cuban is happy; Phil Jackson begins a life which includes Christmas at home.

LeBron is apologetic and playing the world's smallest violin.

D. Rose and D. Wade are cautiously circling one another before going toe to toe.

Rondo is taking his elbow to rehab; Doc Rivers lost the playoffs and won a 5-year, $5.5 million (annually) contract.

And then there's Cleveland, the current weather a stark reminder of the recent sun-filled South Beach triumph. Witnesses no more, Cavs fans need a new hero.  At least until we can all remember and correctly spell all the baby Cavs' first and last names.  And who better to step into that breach than the infamous jersey-burning Jason Herron, better known as one-half of the Team Gilbert creators.

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Al Jolson's "You Made Me Love You" floated in the air, my mom's humming mixing with the aromas wafting from the kitchen, while my brother went 10 for 10 at the hastily drawn free throw line in our backyard. I was in awe of his ability, the swish, swish, swish a sound I came to associate with 3-in-one jello, Brown Betty casseroles, my mother's famous paper thin carrots in butter and having my brother all to myself for a few hours.

My free throws veered wildly, my arms tired easily and my brother was endlessly patient, all to no avail. He continued to improve and I continued to aim carefully only to hit the side of the garage.

Fast forward to the 2010-2011 NBA season in Cleveland. A convoluted series of events – all bad – created an atmosphere of anger and despair centered around a game which brings joy to millions. As the season limped to its inevitable conclusion, the Cavs were benched and the Playoffs began. I swore I would not watch. Too painful.

My resolve lasted only so long. The second phrase of Al Jolson's hit song played in my head – "I didn't want to do it" – as I tuned in to Game 4 of the Celtics/Knicks matchup. And what a game. Down by 23, a train wreck in unalterable motion, the Knicks kicked it up a notch. Down by 10, down by 6, the Knicks melted in the last minute or so but forced the Celtics to take them seriously.

And that's why we watch. How fun was that? How fun to see Spike Lee's hat and listen to Jeff Gundy and Mark Jackson discuss its merits. How fun to see a beaten and outmatched team, mentally and physically, burst onto the court with a new strategy and nearly take the game.

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