Sure, it probably felt great in the moment. It always feels great when you feel like you've been wronged, when you feel like you've been mistreated, when you feel like you've been wounded, and you unload all your anger and frustration and bitterness and sense of betrayal and … just unload it all … let it go … WHAAAAHH … $*#&#($*#!@ … here we go! … Comic Sans type! … all capital letters! …


Yes, it always feels ... oh, wait, it's not over? There's more? There's more:

"You can take it to the bank."

Yes, to the bank! All the way to the bank! Go to the teller! Yes, tell the teller that this is a personal guarantee about the Cleveland Cavaliers and the former "King" and ... um ... well, those Comic Sans letters must have felt great in the immediate and furious aftermath.

You remember. LeBron James left Cleveland after seven years. He left after folding in the playoffs. He left on ESPN primetime. The show was called "The Decision." He said he was taking his talents "to South Beach." He left in a way that made Cleveland fans feel like he cared nothing for them, like the love they had expressed for him was entirely unrequited. That made a lot of people angry. That made Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert angry.

Gilbert wrote his famous letter to Cleveland fans using Comic Sans type. A spurned love letter. That one in which he called James' decision "a cowardly betrayal." He called it "a shameful display of selfishness." He called it "a cowardly and callous action" and "a shocking display of disloyalty," and said that James would be taking the Cleveland Curse "with him down South." Yes, all of that in one letter.

Sure, it must have felt great to get that off his chest. And then, the coup de grace, the finishing blow, he wrote that guarantee. Oh, yes: That guarantee was the best part.

"Sleep well, Cleveland," Gilbert wrote, and I would bet anything that Gilbert slept very well that night after unpacking those bitter feelings. People usually do that first night. Lots of Cleveland people cheered, sure they did, it was EXACTLY what they wanted to hear, perhaps even what they needed to hear, because they felt the same way too. And people outside Cleveland couldn't understand. Gilbert understood. He was as mad as anyone. Madder, even. He guaranteed that the Cavaliers would win a championship before LeBron James! He guaranteed it! Yes, it felt so right. Yes, it always feels so right to quit the job, tell off the boss, hang up on the annoying client, get drunk and tell your longtime boyfriend/girlfriend exactly what you think of them, scream at your dubious friend ...

... but morning always comes. And in the morning, Dan Gilbert was stuck with the single dumbest guarantee in sports history.

This is saying something, by the way. Sure, there have been some cool sports guarantees through the years. The five best:

1. Joe Namath guaranteeing a Jets win over the Colts in Super Bowl III. Of course.
2. Muhammad Ali predicting victory over Sonny Liston. Ali sort of invented the sports guarantee.
3. Moses Malone's famous "Fo, Fo, Fo," prediction for the Sixers in the 1983 playoffs, though it turned out to be "Fo Fi Fo" ... a four-game sweep of the Knicks, a five-game win over Milwaukee and a four-game sweep of the Lakers.
4. Mark Messier's prediction that the Rangers would beat the Devils in Game 6 in 1994, which they did.
5. Babe Ruth pointing and then hitting a home run against the Cubs in the 1932 World Series ... if he actually did that, which nobody knows for sure.

But for those - and other good ones like Pat Riley's promise of a repeat, Tim Tebow's promise to win out while at Florida, Jim Fassel's sort of guarantee that the Giants would make the playoffs, Chad Johnson/Ochocinco's bizarre guarantee that the 0-7 Bengals would beat the Texans the next game (at least they did) - there are dozens of terrible sports guarantees. A few:

• Matt Hasselbeck's, "We want the ball and we're going to score."
• Nick Saban's, "I'm not going to be Alabama's coach."
• Mo Williams' weird guarantee that the Cavaliers would beat the Magic in the 2009 playoffs (they didn't).
• Wyoming coach Joe Glenn's 2007 guarantee that his Cowboys would beat Utah. They barely lost, 50-0 ... Utah onside-kicked up 43-0.

But none of them could touch Gilbert's beauty. The Cavaliers would win a championship before LeBron? How was this even remotely possible? The Cavs couldn't win a championship WITH LeBron, how in the heck were they going to win one without him? And more to the point, how were they going to beat LeBron to the championship circle? With James Moon? With Daniel Gibson? With Ryan Hollins? How?

Of course, Gilbert had not thought all of it through. He had not broken it down like that. He wrote it, all caps, and he sent it out. Thing is, once you've made the guarantee ... you can't take it back. That's kind of the bad thing about guarantees: People tend to hold on to them. Morning came, and Dan Gilbert was stuck with this absurd guarantee. You can imagine him crawling out of bed, groggy, seeing the note, feeling a quick burst of pride ("Oh yeah, there's the note I sent out to Cleveland fans! That was awesome!") and then reading it again, his smile disappearing slowly but surely, like a Polaroid picture developing backward. You can imagine him looking at the note again and going: "Um, I said what?"

And: "How are we going to win a title before LeBron James? Don't I have people who will talk me out of saying stupid things like this?"

And: "Why did I have to go all-capital letters there?"

And: "Take it to the bank? Did I really have to add that part? Hadn't I already made the point?"

At that point, his only hope was that LeBron James really had something broken inside him, some sort of winner synapse that wasn't firing. There have been times when it did look that way for LeBron. The Heat went to the Finals against Dallas, and LeBron didn't look right, didn't play that well, and the Heat lost; maybe Gilbert hoped that it might last.

But, last year, LeBron James found his mojo -- he almost singlehandedly lifted Miami over Boston, then he and the Heat were too much for Oklahoma City, and LeBron finished it off with a triple-double and a championship. And, in some ways, it was a good thing, because it put Dan Gilbert's prediction out of its misery. Finally.

"Looking back," Gilbert told reporters on Tuesday, "that probably was not the most brilliant thing I've ever done in my life. ... In a way [LeBron winning the title] was a little bit of a relief. If they didn't win it would've been still another thing of who's going to win it [first]."

Well, to be accurate, no, there would have been no "thing." The Cavaliers were 19-63 their first year without LeBron, they were 21-45 last year, nobody out there would have been thinking: "Gee, wonder who's going to win that race between LeBron James and the Cavaliers for the title?" But, I think, Gilbert's point was larger than that.

I think the point was that Gilbert regretted what he said. He was angry, he felt betrayed, he wanted to lash back at LeBron ... and he didn't take a few breaths before he launched the Comic Sans. He was like a million other fans. Difference is, he's the Cavs owner. He just kept going and going until finally there was nothing else to say, no other LeBron insult he could come up with, and he went off the cliff, he made the guarantee.

You know, the LeBron James thing seems a long time ago now. Sure, I know some Cleveland people who won't let go. And I know a lot of Cleveland people -- I'm one of them -- who will always feel a bit of sadness and anger thinking about how it ended. But mostly, it's over. LeBron has won his first championship. He's poised to win more. He's in Miami, with a star-studded team. Meanwhile, in Cleveland, a young team tries to rebuild a million miles away from center stage.

Point is, it's done. I suspect that's what Dan Gilbert really wanted to say. It's over. We've all had Comic Sans screeds in our lives, ones that we enjoyed for a few moments, then regretted. Well, all you can do once the regret settles in is eat some crow, clean up the mess, and hope for better days.