If anyone wants to read my hard-hitting epilogue for the NBA Finals, you can find it here.
Some people want to call it "The Sweep," since it's now apparently dictated by city ordinance that every Cleveland sports failure must be given a name that begins with "The." Makes it sound more horrifying, I guess. The Drive. The Fumble. The Shot. The Fly. The Blob.
Personally, I'd refer to this series as "The Anticlimax." Which might still be an understatement. This was a Wilford-Brimley-on-Kathy-Bates-caliber anticlimax.
(...Too graphic? Sorry.)
Anyway, there will be much more Cavs offseason analysis in this space in the weeks and months to come. And I haven't forgotten about baseball as the Indians continue to maintain a fingernail-grip on first place.
Is it just me, or has that team not been the same since they let the Tigers come back and split that series at Jacobs Field a couple of weeks ago? And why, despite the fact that the bullpen is miles better than it was a year ago, do I keep getting this uneasy feeling when Eric Wedge goes to the bullpen -- or when any pitcher besides C.C. Sabathia or Fausto Carmona is on the mound, for that matter?