Rooting against LeBron is petty, but it’s also fun

And loving every minute of it.

Because when the Dallas Mavericks defeated the Miami Heat for this year’s championship of professional basketball, it didn’t merely cause joy deep in the heart of Texas. It brought ecstasy to just about any sports fan who ever lived on or near the aromatic shores of Lake Erie. Pure, unadulterated satisfaction.

Call it petty. Call it vindictive. Call it schadenfreude, if you’re into multi-syllabic pretentiousness. I don’t care.

Because the Miami Heat is the current team of LeBron James, the superstar who deserted us, taking with him any realistic chance of any Cleveland team winning a championship in any sport in the current millennium. So seeing his team not win a championship is about as close to happiness as a Cleveland sports fan is likely to get these days.

This is not, by the way, a personal attack on LeBron, whose skills are so vast that he was able to go directly from an Akron high school to professional stardom. Which means he not only did it without the experience he might have gained from one year in college, he also had to pay full price for his cars and tattoos.

But with no hope of ever having a championship team of your own, you root against the ones that have made your life miserable as a Cleveland sports fan.

Because it’s the team that spent decades tormenting the Indians, you root against the New York Yankees. Or, to put it in terms that aren’t so negative, you root for whatever team they happen to be playing that day.

Because they’re the team that was shoplifted from the dingy lockerooms of Cleveland Stadium, you root against the Baltimore Ravens, even if they’re playing the Taliban.

It’s been a long time since the golden era of Cleveland sports, which can be defined as Dec. 27, 1964, the date when the Browns beat the Baltimore Colts for the championship of pro football. So the best we can do is gloat when other teams fail, too.

Not everyone, unfortunately, understands that. Not even everyone in our house.

On Monday, over our morning coffee and newspaper, I asked my wife, “Did you hear what happened in that game last night?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Poor LeBron.”

In her defense, she didn’t grow up in Cleveland.

Contact D.L. Stewart at dlstew_2000@yahoo.com.