In 1991, I was born to two Clevelanders who had settled in northeastern Ohio to raise a… In 1991, I was born to two Clevelanders who had settled in northeastern Ohio to raise a family.

I grew up like many kids in the Midwest, hoping for blizzards to give me a snow day off school in the winter and rushing to the neighborhood pool to cool off in the summer. My childhood was filled with summer camp boo-boos, bike rides to the hamburger restaurant and, notably, a burgeoning love for professional athletics.

When I was first discovering sports, Cleveland and northeastern Ohio were just about the worst places to be.

There are three professional sports teams belonging to the region, the Browns, Cavaliers and Indians, playing football, basketball and baseball, respectively. All three were losers. Instead of a defining championship or last-second victory, my most striking memory of Cleveland sports from my childhood was beer bottles being thrown from the stands at the players and officials at a Browns game in 2001.

But everything changed in one night — May 22, 2003.

The Cleveland Cavaliers were announced as the winners of the NBA Draft Lottery, meaning they had the first overall pick in that year’s draft. I can still remember the rush I felt as I ran down my hallway screaming, “Yes, Yes, Yes!”

The 2003 NBA Draft class is known as one of the best in history. Four of the first five players selected in the draft are now both NBA All-Stars and Olympic gold medalists. One of them, the consensus top selection in the draft, was predicted to be one of the best ever to play the game. That player was LeBron James.

At the time, he hadn’t yet played a minute of collegiate or professional basketball, but he was already drawing comparisons to one of the game’s greatest players, Michael Jordan.

Fast forward to May 31, 2007.

The Cleveland Cavaliers were tied 2-2 in the Eastern Conference Finals with their then-archrival, the Detroit Pistons, who had won the most games of any team in the Eastern Conference that season as well as having recently won the NBA Championship in 2004.

I was a high schooler sitting with my mom still hoping, against all historical evidence, that this could be the year that a team from Cleveland would win a title.

That night, James did something incredible.

He scored 48 points in a double-overtime win, single-handely leading the Cavaliers to the improbable victory by scoring the team’s final 25 points.

My mom cheered, not entirely understanding the game, at each of his unbelievable feats. Ever since my mother was my age, Cleveland has not won a major professional championship. The last time that it did, 1964, was when the Browns won the NFL Championship —  before the Super Bowl even existed.

2007 was the only time that the Cavaliers ever made the NBA Finals. They lost to the San Antonio Spurs, but it didn’t hurt that much. Anyone who watched already knew what the future held. James was going to become an absolute superstar.

Cleveland had finally found its hope.

My dad used to tell me stories about old Cleveland athletes. He would talk about the days before players made millions of dollars a year, when it was guys who lived and worked in the cities they played for.

James was from Akron, Ohio, about a half-hour drive from my hometown and 45 minutes from Cleveland. He didn’t seem like some far-off superstar granted to the Cavaliers by a draft system. He was one of us.

And I say “was” because of the events of July 8, 2010, the night LeBron James announced that he would leave the Cavaliers.

ESPN called it “The Decision.” I was with friends, all of us donning No. 23 Cavaliers jerseys ­— James’ number.

People still joke about the way that he said “South Beach” in reference to his choosing to play for the Miami Heat, but the real sting came from his answer when asked how he would explain his decision to people in Cleveland.

“It’s hard to explain, but at the same time, my heart, in the seven years I gave to that franchise, to that city, it was everything,” he said.

Two years after abandoning Cleveland, James recently won his first NBA Championship as a member of the Miami Heat.

The team had a parade through the streets not long after to celebrate the victory. My friends from college sent sarcastic text messages to me, my friends from home posted angry Facebook statuses. To be honest, I didn’t watch the decisive game.

People often say that superstars leave all of the time. But they don’t leave like he left.

He was a hometown hero. He was the leader of the team that won more games than any other team in the league. And he announced his decision to leave on national television, ripping out the hearts of numerous Clevelanders like myself in the process.

The simple fact is that sports matter.

Not because it’s amazing to see an athlete dunk or throw a ball 100 miles per hour, but because they have a way of connecting us. It’s the reason that the Olympics draw upon our patriotism and the World Cup inspires our spirits.

James decided against being the person who could do something special for his hometown. He chose not to be on the underdog 1980 U.S. Hockey Team; he thought it would be easier to win if he played for the Soviets.

LeBron James should not be cheered.

His athleticism may be unquestionable, but love for sports goes far deeper than athleticism. He could have truly given the franchise and the city of Cleveland everything. He didn’t.

Don’t clap at James’ heroics as this year’s victor. He has shown none.