Let this be the year

On the eve of the Cavs' playoff run, to whom it may concern:

Let this be the year.

Let this be the year when we finally have a happy ending.

Let this be the year when the other shoe doesn't drop.

Let this be the year free from John Elway, Michael Jordan and dream assassins from other teams.

Let this be the year free from Jose Mesa, Red Right 88 and dream saboteurs from our own teams.

Let this be the year when having the best record in the league matters.

Let this be the year when having the best player matters.

Let this be the year free from Jim Chones' foot, John Smiley's arm and LeCharles Bentley's knee.

Let this be the year when Jim Poole doesn't stay in the game to bat.

Let this be the year when Jeremiah Castille doesn't come out of nowhere to strip the ball two feet from paydirt.

Let this be the year when we solve Josh Beckett. Let this be the year without a Craig Counsell or Dusty Rhodes.

Let this be the year when Willie Mays doesn't make an impossible catch.

Let this be the year when we don't fumble the ball out of bounds with the clock winding down, when the ball-handler doesn't slip and fall on the game's last possession. Let this be the year when the critical pass isn't intercepted, when the critical shot doesn't rim out, when the critical whistles and non-whistles fall in our favor.

Let this be the year when the free throws go in and the back-taps find teammates.

Let this be the year when the Boston leprechaun isn't lucky, when Orlando isn't magic, when the Lakers aren't Showtime.

Let this be the year when we don't dread what might be around the corner. Let this be the year when confidence replaces fear. Let this be the year we truly believe, not just hope for the best.

Let this be the year of unbreakable resolve, both on the part of the team and the fans. Let this be the year where we realize that if we want what has eluded us for 45 years, we're going to have to take it. Nobody is going to give it to us.

Let this be the year that the rags finally turn to riches in this rust belt town. Let this be the year when the parade weaves its way down Euclid Avenue, not through downtown Boston or Los Angeles -- or worse yet, Disney World.

Let this be the year when justice is served, when the fans most deserving of tasting a title's sweetness finally get that chance.

Let this be the year of a 16-win postseason.

Let this be the year that Cleveland, after nearly half a century, once again becomes a championship town.