If I'm Depressed, It Must Be Cleveland Sports

So, yeah . . .

I was going to say that I was really looking forward to the Cavs season right about now — given that, at this rate, the Indians are mathematically eliminated from the 2010 postseason and that the Brady Quinn era has started not with a bang but the whimpering of a team who got its a$$ handed to it by the frackin' Broncos (I still hate John Elway with the passion of a thousand burning nuns!) — but then Delonte got nailed on weapons charges, and if he winds up suspended or cut, Shabron has one less dude to pass to, not like they had that many producers on the floor in the first place.

And I'm totally blaming the West shenanigans on the new marketing person, who totally jinxed us last week when she launched into a mini-soliloquy at lunch about how great the guys on the Cavs are, not just as players but as nice guys, upstanding members of the community, if you will, who don't get arrested or otherwise get publicity for unsavory reasons, etc. and so on. I said, Knock on wood, and did, but obviously my mojo was no match for the universe's perpetual F You! to Northeast Ohio.


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