To be a witness

I’m still in shock.

I was in Section 220 at The Q Friday night, and I can’t believe what I saw.  It may be the single greatest play in Cleveland sports history.

LeBron James buries a three-pointer as the buzzer sounds, and the Cavaliers beat the Orlando Magic 96-95 in amazing fashion.

In one second, this blog went from writing a diatribe about “what the hell were the f-ing refs doing out there” to  a joyous “oh my God I can’t believe how happy I am” celebration.  An entire city goes from suicide watch to thunderous pride.  A season is saved, a championship still within grasp.

To me personally, that shot created a new reality, one in which the definition of a word is realized deep within the soul.

I’d worn my “Witness” t-shirt since 2004 when I bought it.  I’d used the word before to describe watching LeBron James play.  But tonight, I feel the essence of the word with every fiber of my being.  I was there to see that shot.  Walking back to my car, I spoke of the significance of the shot and explained to my 12-year-old niece that when she’s 40 years old, they’ll still be showing that basket on highlight reels coast-to-coast.  Gatorade will have it in commercials.

I was there and I can’t believe I saw it.

I witnessed greatness tonight.  I think it’s going to take some time for that to settle in.