Starting to look like Vegas

I think it's important to live by certain codes.
For instance, the immortal philosopher Slats Grobnik once said, "Stay out of the trees, watch out for the wild goose and take care of your hernia."
I'm not sure what it means, but it sounds like good advice.
Another rule to live by is this: If you get a chance to draft the second coming of Magic Johnson, don't be afraid to tank the season in order to do it.
Let's go back three years to the night of the NBA draft lottery. The Cavaliers had the best chance of getting the top pick because they had the league's worst record. They were awful. Cleveland had tanked the season (unofficially) in order to have a the best chance of getting the first pick -- and LeBron James.
Chances of getting finalball were seldom to none
Cavs fans weren't optimistic. The worst they could do was the fourth pick, but they knew better. They half expected the NBA to say, "Sorry, we couldn't find any of your ping pong balls. I think Ted Stepien traded them for a bag of magic beans."
But a crazy thing happened. The fourth pick came around ... and the Cavs didn't get it. Then the third pick ... went to the Nuggets.
I was sitting at my desk at The Vindicator that night. I was supposed to be writing a story about a track meet (and, if my boss is reading this, I'd like to assure him that I was), but I pretty much watched TNT for about a half-hour straight.
The second pick came around ... AND IT WENT TO THE DETROIT PISTONS. I freaked. I stood up on my swivel chair (and if my boss is reading this, I'd like to assure them that I WASN'T standing on his swivel chair) and tried to spin around (which is pretty much impossible when you're standing up) and shouted across the newsroom, "WE GOT LEBRON! WE GOT LEBRON!"
And about eight people on the other side of the room looked at me as if I had just said, "WE CONQUERED ZARKON! WE CONQUERED ZARKON!"
I stopped, looked around and said, "Ah, forget it. I'm calling my brother." He understood. He was shouting too.
The night LeBron was drafted, he promised to "light Cleveland up like Las Vegas." When the Cavs clinched a playoff spot last month, James was asked about that quote.
"Even buildings in Vegas take a few years to build," he said.
Cleveland isn't there yet. This is a football town, which is about as noteworthy as saying that Youngstown is a football town. But Cavs fans exist. They might complain about how much better the Richfield Coliseum was (understandably) or complain about the Danny Ferry-for-Ron Harper trade (also understandably), but they're there. They never left.
They were just waiting for Saturday.
I can tell you exactly where I was when Michael Jordan hit the shot over Craig Ehlo. I was in my family room. When he hit it, I ran upstairs and shredded the MJ poster on my wall into 4,530 pieces.
Another Cavs momentdidn't involve destruction
I can also tell you where I was when MJ hit the shot over Gerald Wilkins in the conference finals a few years later. (My kitchen. I just shrugged and changed the channel.) And, obviously, I remember where I was when Cleveland won the draft lottery.
I'm sure I'm not the only one. On Saturday, for the first time in a long time, Cleveland felt like a basketball town. Heck, it felt a little like a Browns game. There were some drunks yelling during the national anthem. (Sigh.)
Is it like Vegas?
"It's getting there," said James. "The atmosphere was unbelievable. When you look around and see all the towels waving, it's what playoff basketball is all about."
Only this time the playoffs feel different. Because this time, No. 23 plays for Cleveland.
Joe Scalzo is a sportswriter for The Vindicator. Write him at scalzo@vindy.com.