On December 31st, 2022, I celebrated my 20th birthday. It was a large milestone in numeric value only, as most other adult rites-of-passage are locked behind the age of 21. I would not be going out drinking, smoking, or researching advantageous parlays in anticipation of sports betting legalization in Ohio the very next day. Rather, I spent the day enjoying time with my family while watching the 2022 College Football Playoff Semifinals. It was a great start for our Ohio State aligned household; Michigan losing was one of two things I asked for. The other- of course- was a tOSU victory against the Georgia Bulldogs. In the weeks preceding the game, my expectations were already low. They sunk further when Kevin Wilson, the Buckeyes Offensive Coordinator, said he dedicated 70% of his time to prep for their CFP matchup. I was still looking forward to the game, though. The spectacular nature of the College Football Playoff was enough to be treated as an event on my birthday, even if it would result in a complete dismantlement of my favorite team.
And spectacular it was. Ohio State came out of the gates hot and battled with the defending national champions all game. After Georgia kicker Jack Podlesny nailed a 32-yarder to give the Bulldogs a 24-21 lead, I looked at my father, an Ohio State alum, and said “This really feels like a game that will just come down to whoever has the ball last”. In his trademarked temperamental way when it comes to sports, he simply shook his head in agreement, holding back his criticisms of the defensive performance. That comment would remain in the back of our minds as the game went on and returned to the forefront when Stetson Bennett tossed his third touchdown pass, reclaiming the lead by just one point. With 54 seconds left, we all knew it would be a mad dash into field goal range for Ohio State. Though back-to-back chunks of yardage were gained on the second and third plays of the final drive, it quickly became apparent that it would be difficult to advance the ball further by means of the ground game. With only a few more yards needed to make it more comfortable for kicker Noah Ruggles, the team turned to CJ Stroud to pick those yards up through the air. But the vaunted Georgia defense was acutely aware of this, and took away the quick outs and checkdowns that were peppered across the field. Alas, Ruggles would have to attempt the game winning Field Goal from 50 yards out. As if my father were in Star Wars, he mumbled.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
In the lead up to the kick, the daily BeReal went off. Taken aback by the notification, I quickly unlocked my phone and showcased my surprise at the audacity of the app to interrupt such a cutthroat moment. As my post was uploaded, the ball was finally snapped. Ruggles went up for the kick as the clock struck midnight…
And it was not even fucking close.
It is not often that I blurt out an expletive while watching a game at my house. But the magnitude of that shank-job shattered the glass ceiling that was about to boil over in the living room. My sister shrieked in disbelief while my father put his head into his hands. And that was that. It is as if the world were saying “Happy New Year Buckeyes fans! Enjoy this heartbreak as you ring in 2023! And a special shoutout to PJ, who decided to watch this game instead of going out for his birthday. Better luck next time, buddy!”
What followed was minutes of silence that felt like hours. Uncharacteristically, my dad cut the tension.
“Well, technically we didn’t lose on your birthday. The kick happened at midnight.. the game ended on the first day of 2023.”
Finally, a moment of solace after a four hour college football game. I gave my father and sister a hug before I trudged up to my room and slumped into my bed. After all, I had a big week ahead of me. Though I had a day to recover, I would be making the trek to Cleveland for a Cavaliers game with some of my friends who already live up there. As I spent the first day of January somberly, I was unaware of what would unfold just days after one of the most heartbreaking sports moments of my life.
The way that this Cleveland excursion came to be is an odd story. It was an idea I got from one of my friends, who I had known for a couple years now after going to summer camp together. I was introduced to some of their local friends up in Cleveland due to our shared love of the band Arctic Monkeys, which ultimately resulted in all of us going in on tickets to a concert of theirs together. This Cavs game was to act as the first time I would meet the other people attending the concert in person. Two of the people going had never been to a Cavs game before, so it seemed like a fun idea to get to know each other a bit better. As the clock ticked closer and closer to game time, the excitement came into fruition and the uneasiness of making new friends faded away.
Arriving at our seats just in time for pre-game intros, the unfortunate realization that both Darius Garland and Evan Mobley were out. As a partial season ticket holder on the cheapest plan, I have to make my trips from Columbus to Cleveland count. I typically try to avoid games where teams are hampered by injuries, but sometimes it is unavoidable. And thus, when the Bulls jumped out to a nine point lead just under five minutes into the game, it was not much of a surprise. From there, they did not look back. They shot a blistering 62% from the field for the quarter, which included four out of six three pointers finding the bottom of the bucket. Despite this, the score was 34-27 at the end of the first. However, the game quickly got out of hand in the second, as the teams went into the locker room for halftime with the score at 65-47 in favor of Chicago. The play was less than par from the Cavs; Donovan Mitchell and Jarrett Allen were the only two players to record more than one basket in the second quarter. The defense, though, remained the bigger issue. The duo of Demar DeRozan and Zach LaVine combined for 16 points in the quarter and remained scorched-earth from the field. As a team, the Bulls shot 50% from the field in the second quarter and 56% overall in the first half.
Even though the Cavaliers were down just 18 points at the half, I could already see fans in the lower bowl heading towards the exits. As a staunch believer in staying to the end of games, I was ready to champion my friends into staying to help the team rally back. But they did not need any convincing. Though, when I was asked if I thought the Cavs would be able to come back, I was honest.
"Well... stranger things have happened."
Something stranger did indeed happen that night.
Donovan Mitchell went OFF in the third quarter, racking up 24 points. The Bulls were still making shots on offense, but they were not able to keep up with whatever the hell got into Mitchell during halftime. The 31 points they scored in the 3rd quarter were dwarfed by the Cavs' 44 points- thanks to supplemental scoring from Cedi Osman- which cut the lead to just five for the fourth quarter. I vividly remember looking over to my friends in bewilderment and continuously telling them that that kind of scoring outburst does not happen often. But when the fourth quarter started, Mitchell went and did it all over again, tallying up bucket after bucket, with a critical step back jumper granting him the most points in any Cavaliers game ever. He received more help from the starters too, which was much needed. Jarrett Allen came up big with back-to-back clutch buckets with an alley-pop finish with 22 seconds left and a close shot at 8 seconds left to bring the score to 127-128. After the Cavs committed an intentional foul- which enabled the visitors to extend the lead to 127-130- the Bulls intentionally fouled Donovan Mitchell to prevent him from shooting a three. I heard my friend exclaim next to me.
"Wait, why did they do that?"
"We need a three to tie, and Mitchell will only get two free throws because of that foul."
"Oh... well that's lame."
I could only shake my head in agreement. Even as a relentless optimist when it comes to my own teams, I felt defeated in that moment. 56 points from Donovan Mitchell was not enough to beat the wretched Chicago Bulls, the team that I saw the Cavs take on in the first game I ever went to back in 2016. I reasoned out loud as Mitchell sank the first free throw. "It's not often you see a guy drop 56 points," I said. I had no thought to tell my friends that there was still a slight possibility that the Cavs could win, but that was ok. Mitchell did that for me.
In an impressive feat of athleticism, he intentionally misses the second free throw, perfectly throwing it at the optimal angle to hit the rim and bounce back out into the key, which allowed him to grab his own rebound and put it back in the hoop to level the score at 130 all.
Everyone in the arena fucking lost it.
The excitement was absolutely palpable, it felt as if we had already won the game. My two friends who had hardly ever watched basketball in their lives were right there with the diehards that surrounded them, jumping out of their seats and cheering, singing the praises of number 45, who must have seemed like the greatest basketball player to ever walk the Earth. After a quick stop on defense, it became official that the game was going to overtime- which just felt like a formality at that point. There was absolutely no way that the Cavs were going to lose this game. Every time Mitchell touched the ball in OT, everyone knew he was looking for his shot, and he would get it time and again no matter what. The other players were not even setting screens for him, he was just iso-ing the entire Bulls team and getting his way, which in turn invigorated his teammates to play lockdown defense. The Bulls did not score until there was just over a minute left in the period. They then fouled Mitchell with roughly 30 seconds left in the game, which allowed him to score his 70th and 71st points at the charity stripe, capping off a historic night.
I had never seen so many people stay for the post game interview. It felt like everyone wanted an explanation from Mitchell for his god-like performance, and he was just as impressed as we all were. The electric atmosphere serenaded him in an MVP chant before he retreated to the locker room, finally prompting everyone to go home. As we walked back to the car, my friends remained captivated by the performance they just saw. Despite not being followers of the sport beforehand, they could tell just how historic of a performance it was. What a first game to attend, right?
In the following days, I could not help but think back to the scenes of that historic night. I'm serious; it still pops up in my dreams even to this day. Moreover, the juxtaposition of such a momentous win for the Cavaliers and a disastrous loss for the Buckeyes dominated my mind. Going from watching the poor Ohio State kicker shank a kick to screaming my lungs out for the man who's only been a Cavalier for five months is jarring. But it dawned on me that these events themselves are not what makes the spectacle of sports so special. It is the shared experience of watching these events unfold. Yes, the Buckeyes lost in spectacular fashion. Yes, Donovan Mitchell's 71 points is an extremely special occasion. But the part that sticks with me from both of these things are the people I watched them with. The sadness that came from the Buckeyes loss was overridden by the time I spent with my family on my 20th birthday. The amazing feat achieved by Mitchell seems small in comparison to the laughs I shared and the euphoria I experienced with my friends. It is in this that sport shows off its duality. Not only in its ability to give fans extreme highs and lows, but in its ability to reinforce the relationships in our lives and create new ones as well.
It is a great reminder that sports are made to be shared. If one were to ask a fan what their greatest memories while watching sports were, they will always be able to recall where they were and who they got to cherish that moment with.
That is the true value of sports.
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