If an “Oscar Clip” showcases a riveting performance condensed into a matter of seconds, then Daniel-Day Lewis had nothin’ on C.J. Miles last night. Sure, C.J.’s Cavaliers fell once again to the hated Heat in South Beach, just as “Lincoln” took it on the chin against “Argo.” But for 60 remarkable seconds of the third quarter, Cleveland’s back-up two-guard transformed himself convincingly into Reggie Miller at the Garden in ’95—erasing a Miami lead in a tidal wave of triples and silencing the King’s Court, if only for a moment. Final count: 109-105.
Up until Mr. Miles (19 points) put his method training to work, the script had been all too familiar—the young, overmatched Cavaliers (18-38) rendered helpless at the hands of their former leader, embarrassed and mocked before the imbecilic masses of Miami: Sportstown USA. Cleveland came in just 1-7 against the Heat since “The Decision,” and despite losing by just 2 points on their last visit to the American Airlines Arena back in November, the absence of Anderson Varejao in this rematch looked obvious early. LeBron greeted his old (and presumably future) team with a dunk to start the game, and a string of three-pointers from Mario Chalmers (16 pts), Ray Allen (11 pts), and effing Chris Bosh (7 pts) sent Miami off on a 14-2 run to close the first frame. It was 33-20. Fun.
The second quarter concluded in similar fashion, with three inside bunnies by James (game-high 28 pts and 8 assists) and three-pointers from Allen and Chalmers leading to a 12-1 Heat run in the final 3 minutes. It was 64-46. Might as well watch ‘dem purdy dresses on the red carpet now.
The night was May 22, 2003. The Cleveland Cavaliers were fresh off a season that saw them win 17 games and lose 65. Although there were 
dominated the failing Magicians 118-94 in Confederated Products Arena. The win was the second in a row for the Cavaliers, who are now 18-37; Orlando is a miserable 15-41 after its fifth consecutive loss.
In sports, there are two paths of loyalty. The first is a fans loyalty to their team, and the other is a professional athletes loyalty to their contract. That’s it, that’s as far as loyalty goes in professional sports. It just so happens that these athletes play for our team, and our money, more or less, pays their salary. So in other words, our respective loyalties directly intersect each other, and in consequence, from time to time things get a little messy. Over the years, the dollars of the industry piled up, the fame increased, our exposure and awareness became constant, and we got attatched. The only thing we share in common is our ability to simultaneously exchange the harsh reality that “this is a business.” In the end, really what we have is a complicated love triangle. 