CLEVELAND, Ohio — Before each home game of the regular season, just moments before the starting five were introduced to the crowd, Rocket Arena would darken, and the video board lit up to a carefully selected anthem: “The Rev3nge” by Joey Bada$$. The lyrics boomed through the arena like a war cry:
“They say success is the best revenge
Heard they was sleeping again, say it no more
This is a rude awakening, kick in the door
Back and I’m badder than ever before
Don‘t get it mistaken, I’m ready for war."
The soundtrack felt fitting for a Cavs team determined to rewrite their narrative. This was supposed to be the year they announced themselves — not just as playoff participants but as real contenders. Sixty-four wins in the regular season only amplified that belief.
When the playoffs arrived, the music changed. A new montage, this time set to “Dream On” by Aerosmith, painted a similar tone:
“Every time when I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face getting clearer
The past is gone."
The message was clear: this team wanted to distance itself from the stings of postseason failure. They were ready to evolve — or so they thought.
Because, in the end, the Cavs didn’t kick in the door. They didn’t get their revenge.
They got the mirror.
And now, each player will have to stare into that reflection and ask a question no coach, teammate, or motivational playlist can answer for them: Do you have the fire inside you?
The kind that doesn’t just show up when things are rolling, but when your body’s hurting and your shot’s not falling.
On Tuesday, the Cavs were gearing up for Game 5 of the Eastern Conference semifinals against the Indiana Pacers with their season hanging in the balance. While many players echoed the usual one-game-at-a-time mentality, as reported on TNT by Jared Greenberg, Max Strus sent a message to every Cavaliers player before Game 5 that cut to the core of Cleveland‘s identity crisis:
“If you don‘t believe, then don‘t show up for work,” Greenberg read on the broadcast.
It was more than a motivational play. It was a challenge — one that, in truth, had been looming all season.
The Cavs have said all the right things about belief, accountability, and focus. But as the old adage goes, it’s not about what you say. It’s about what you show. And in too many defining moments, what Cleveland showed was a team still trying to figure out who they are when the stakes rise.
This group has made talent a non-issue. They’ve leaned on continuity. They’ve flirted with real growth.
But in the playoffs, when the margins tighten and every possession is a test of will, the separating factor isn’t talent — it’s toughness. And not just physical grit. The kind of inner blaze that pushes a player to dig deeper when their legs are heavy, and the scoreboard isn’t in their favor.
Cleveland Cavaliers vs. Indiana Pacers in game 5 of the Eastern Conference semifinals, May 13, 2025
Cleveland Cavaliers guard Donovan Mitchell drops his head as timeout is called in the fourth quarter during the eastern conference semifinals at Rocket Arena. John Kuntz, cleveland.com
Donovan Mitchell played through two injuries (ankle sprain and calf strain) in the series because he simply couldn’t bear to relive the disappointment of another early playoff exit. He’s made the playoffs for the eighth straight year in his NBA career. He’s yet to get past Round Two.
His pain and playoff failures fuel him. From the bubble, from the Knicks series, from Utah. He didn’t want his teammates to feel it — that’s why he took on so much of the burden. But maybe they needed to.
“Winning is tough,” Mitchell said. “You gotta be willing to damn near die out there on the floor.”
Cleveland Cavaliers vs. Indiana Pacers in game 2 of the Eastern Conference semifinals, May 6, 2025
Cleveland Cavaliers guard Max Strus reacts after a break-away dunk against the Indiana Pacers in the second half of game two of the Eastern Conference semifinals. Joshua Gunter, cleveland.com
Strus, in his second year with the franchise, proved just as relentless — guarding for 94 feet and desperately searching for ways to curate success for the Cavs.
And when the season ended, he didn’t sugarcoat his feelings.
“To me, we got to get tougher – mentally, physically,” Strus said in his exit interview. “We know it’s going to be a grind. We’ve now done it twice with this group and a big group of them for three years now. So you can talk about it all you want, but until you actually show up and be about it, talking don‘t really matter.”
Because despite everything the Cavs accomplished this year, despite the internal improvements and the culture that’s taken shape under Kenny Atkinson, this team didn’t break through. Not because they weren’t good enough on paper. But because too many players were still waiting for someone else to light the fire.
“I’ve kind of said this to Evan, your next step is believing that,” Kenny Atkinson said back on February 21, before a game against the Knicks. “Do you believe? You have all the tools, you’re making progress with your consistency, but there is a belief with these guys, they get to a certain point — Donovan‘s got it. ... this almost irrational confidence.
“And Evan’s not a not-confident person, but we need to get him to be a little more irrational, a little more ‘man, I am going to be this guy.’”
It’s not just Mobley, although the future success of the franchise will largely be due to his level of development, who needs to internalize that message. It’s the entire locker room. Because the next step in their evolution isn’t skill-based. It’s psychological. It’s emotional. It’s internal.
“Look myself in the mirror and see what’s inside and go with that,” Darius Garland said after the season ended. He had played through a left toe sprain, wearing a steel plate in his shoe and a spacer between his toes. “I definitely wasn’t myself out there. It was pretty uncomfortable, but like I said, trying to do anything to win.”
Maybe this latest experience will bring something out of Garland without taking away from his joy — because he needs both to reach his next level.
And that desperation to be great can’t be coached. It can’t be faked. But it can be awakened.
And the only thing that can wake it up is experience.
“I believe in this locker room and this group of guys so much and the hard part about the NBA is you never know when you’re going to get that again,” Strus said. “It was just a year where I think we could have done some big things, and we didn’t do it. It’s as simple as that, and we’ve got to live with it.”
The Boston Celtics were facing a similar moment of truth on Wednesday. Down 3-1 in their own semifinal series, missing Jayson Tatum to a ruptured Achilles, watching Kristaps Porzingis battle on the court for 12 minutes while struggling to breathe — and still, they lived to fight another day.
It was about will.
“It’s just who they are as people,” Celtics head coach Joe Mazzulla said postgame. “You just rely on the character of the guys.”
The Cavs, in trying to build a roster to contend with Boston, might have misjudged what truly makes the Celtics elite. It’s not just spacing or switchability or depth. It’s the edge. The refusal to fold. The mindset that no adversity — not injuries, not matchups, not circumstances — will define their fate.
And it’s exactly what Cleveland has lacked in their three most recent playoff runs — all of which ended in five games, either in the first round or the Eastern Conference semifinals.
Even after just his first year with the Cavs, Atkinson made an astute observation: “The mental part — we’ve got to get over that, I just felt like we got another jump to make, kind of our mental strength. ... We got a lot of work to do is what I’m saying.”
Mental toughness isn’t a stat you can track. It’s not a film session you can teach. It has to come from within. And right now, the Cavaliers don‘t have enough of it coursing through the roster.
Experience helps, yes. Pain helps. There’s nothing quite like the sting of failure to stir something deeper.
You have to feel it.
You have to want it more than the guy in front of you.
Atkinson, Mitchell and Strus can talk until their voices are gone. But they can’t bring out a burning passion that isn’t there.
This group’s biggest battle isn’t with the Pacers or Celtics or anyone else in the East.
It’s with themselves. And belief is no longer optional.