DALTON, Ga. — I’m sure I’m not the only sports fan who’s asked themselves why they even like sports. And I mean that purely in a why-do-I-put-myself-through-this sense. More often than not, following a team through a season seems to end in nothing but heartbreak and misery.

So why?

Because once in a while, everything does fall into place, and when it does it makes all the agony you suffered over the years worth it. And the more frustration and agony you go through, the sweeter the reward.

In a week’s span I was fortunate enough to experience the reward twice. I got to see two teams I’ve poured my heart and soul into following, two teams I’ve lived and died with since I was a little kid, claim their sport’s top prize.

First there was the Pittsburgh Penguins. Growing up without hockey in Ohio — the Columbus Blue Jackets didn’t come until 2000 — the Penguins were my team. I’ve followed their ups and downs from the Mario Lemieux glory days to them nearly leaving town and then their resurgence to winning the title in 2009. A week ago Sunday, I got to see Sidney Crosby lift his second Stanley Cup.

Then this past Sunday, it was the Cavaliers’ turn. The CLEVELAND Cavaliers. Not sure how much you know about the story, but the words “Cleveland” and “championship” don’t go together too often.

The Penguins were one thing. It was great and I relished the moment when they won (as anyone in my apartment building can probably attest to). But I’ve seen them win championships before; I’ve been to their parade. The Cavs were something totally different.

It was 52 years since a Cleveland team won a major professional sports championship. That’s 147 seasons between the Cavs, Indians and Browns. Along the way were some of the most devastating losses in sports history. The Drive. The Fumble. The Shot. Jose Mesa in the 1997 World Series. People think they know about sports misery, but until ESPN makes an entire documentary on your misery you aren’t at that level.

With the possibility of all that coming to an end, there was only one place I wanted to be that night. I was fortunate that I was able to spend Sunday night in the heart of it all, the plaza next door to Quicken Loans Arena, watching the game on a giant screen with thousands of fellow Cavs fans. From far and wide people flooded downtown just wanting to be there. Even though the team was playing across the country, everyone wanted to be in the city, to be alongside their kindred, sensing something special was coming.

The game itself seemed to be a microcosm of the last 52 years. We were up, then we were down. We seemed destined for joy, then seemed destined for heartbreak.

But this time was different. After a lifetime of seeing some of the most memorable plays in sports history go against us, this time they went in our favor. There was LeBron’s block of Andre Iguodala, then Kyrie Irving’s 3-pointer.

What followed next was something that maybe 95 percent of the tens of thousands in downtown Cleveland that night had never seen before: Cleveland winning a championship.

Why do we like sports? For that moment. For the pure joy and euphoria that come with seeing your team reach the top of the mountain.

Teams win championships every year, but this one was different. I’m not sure what the reactions have been like in other cities over the years, but I can’t imagine the scene anywhere else being anything like downtown Cleveland on Sunday.

Grown men could be seen walking down the streets openly weeping. I’m not afraid to admit I shed a tear or two.

It was often asked, what will happen to Cleveland when one of the teams does win a title. “It will burn” and “It will destroy itself” were common answers. Actually it turned out to be the opposite. For the most part, aside from some minor incidents, the celebration was pretty civil. Well, civil as far as celebrations 52 years in the making go.

Everyone came together; it was unity. People from Cleveland, Youngstown, Akron, Canton and across the rest of northern Ohio, down toward Columbus and beyond, came together under the Cleveland banner. Complete strangers were celebrating with each other like they were lifelong friends.

I never high-fived and hugged so many random people in my life. I didn’t know who most of the the people were and I didn’t really care. All I knew was that it was other Cavs fans, so it might as well have been my brothers and sisters that night.

The riots, fires and overturned cars many expected were minimal, if any. Maybe some street signs needed to be replaced the next morning, but it was simply a party. One giant, massive party that engulfed an entire city.

Sunday was worth everything that led up to it. To borrow a phrase from a good friend of mine (who actually stole it from a movie), “The juice is worth the squeeze.” That’s when what you get out of something becomes worth all the emotions you put in and the time spent getting to that point.

It’s not just a phenomenon exclusive to professional sports. The same holds true at the high school level. A very small percentage of players and teams end their years and careers as state champions. The rest mostly end in disappointment and heartache.

But it’s the moments of joy along the way that make it worth it. Every dramatic win, every title at every level, every memory. It all makes it worth it. The wins by far outweigh the losses; the pleasure outweighs the pain.

Why do we like sports? That’s why.