On June 19, 2016, a day etched in the memories of sports fans, the Cleveland Cavaliers achieved an extraordinary feat by defeating the Golden State Warriors in a thrilling Game 7 of the NBA Finals. This victory marked a historic moment, as it was the first championship win for any of Cleveland's major sports teams—be it the Browns, the Cavaliers, or the Tribe/Guardians—in decades.
Reflecting on that evening, I couldn't help but think about Bill Livingston, a remarkable journalist who sadly passed away recently at the age of 77 after a brief illness. Livy, as he was affectionately known, and I found ourselves side by side at Oracle Arena in Oakland, both serving as columnists for The Plain Dealer/cleveland.com during that pivotal game.
The atmosphere was charged as we sat there, fingers racing across keyboards, trying to capture the essence of this monumental clash. “Working without a net,” Livy would often describe our frantic writing sessions during such high-stakes events. In that moment, nervousness flickered beneath our professional facades; we were acutely aware that we were witnessing a potential turning point for Cleveland sports. The Cavaliers, having staged a comeback from a daunting 3-1 series deficit, were on the verge of making history—something no NBA team had ever done before.
Livy, who had joined Cleveland’s press scene in 1984 from the Philadelphia Inquirer, missed out on the Browns' last championship in 1964. I, on the other hand, was born in Cleveland in 1955 and had vivid memories of that long-ago football triumph when I was just nine years old. Our shared experiences included covering the heart-wrenching loss of the Tribe in Game 7 of the 1997 World Series, a game that haunts many Clevelanders. "So near, yet so far," a phrase often echoed by Tribe broadcaster Herb Score, perfectly encapsulated the heartbreak felt by fans.
For 22 years, Livy and I navigated our careers as colleagues at rival newspapers. While we maintained a cordial relationship, there was always an underlying competition to outshine the other publication. Eventually, when I made the transition to The Plain Dealer, our dynamic evolved into a more comfortable camaraderie. Livy's literary prowess set him apart, especially in narrative storytelling, and he had a deep passion for sports like the Olympics and track and field, which did not pique my interest as much.
He authored four books, with two standing out for their compelling narratives: "George Steinbrenner’s Pipe Dream: The ABL Champion Cleveland Pipers," about an early 1960s basketball team, and "Above and Beyond: Tim Mack, the Pole Vault, and the Quest for Olympic Gold," which surprised me with its engaging portrayal of Cleveland’s Olympic hero.
Our shared passion for the NBA sparked numerous conversations, particularly his anecdotes from covering the Philadelphia 76ers. He often reminisced about a little-known player named "Bubbles Hawkins," whose nickname was far more memorable than his performance on the court. Those moments still bring a smile to my face as I write this.
As the Cavs fought for victory on that memorable Father’s Day, every second was crucial. Livy and I diligently typed away, each crafting two different narratives—a win and a loss. With only 1:50 left on the clock and the score tied at 89, a pivotal moment arrived: Andre Iguodala appeared poised for an easy layup, only to be thwarted by LeBron James’ stunning block. We exchanged worried glances, our unspoken dread that this might slip away.
But then Kyrie Irving sank a critical three-pointer, pushing the Cavs ahead, 92-89, and the excitement surged through us. As the seconds ticked down, Steph Curry's failed three-point attempt left us both breathless. "They’re going to win this thing!" Livy exclaimed, while I struggled to find words, equally overjoyed yet anxious.
Desperately, I asked Livy multiple times, "What’s the score again?" as I wanted to ensure accuracy in reporting such a monumental triumph. "93-89," he confirmed, and I echoed it back, relieved. And yes, it was indeed 93-89—the Cavaliers had claimed their first championship.
In the end, Livy would say we both navigated that night without a safety net, but I felt differently. I realized I had a safety net right beside me, sharing the experience of covering one of the biggest stories of our lives.
