The game itself was a blur. There was never a moment I thought they’d actually win. The Cavs were on the road against a Warriors team that just broke a previously untouchable record for most regular season wins -- they only lost twice at home in that time. Throw in that they were up 3-1 in the series, they beat the Cavs last year in the Finals, and of course, good things don’t happen to Cleveland. But despite that knowledge, it’s still Game 7 -- anything could happen, though I knew better than to expect a victory.
I texted furiously with my family and friends back home as the game ebbed and flowed.
Then, in the final 10 seconds with Cleveland up by three, LeBron took a hard fall on his wrist and a bolt of dread filled my stomach as he writhed on the ground. This was where the heartbreak should hit. This is where LeBron should hobble off the court and watch helplessly as Steph Curry cemented his place in history. I had seen this movie before.
But he got up. He made a free throw. The clock hit zero.
What the hell do we do now?