Matthew Dellavedova is not very good at basketball.

That is not something that I would normally feel comfortable saying about a professional basketball player, but it’s OK because it’s basically the same thing his own team has said many times.

Dellavedova plays backup point guard for the Cleveland Cavaliers. A few months ago, the Cavs tried very hard to find literally ANYONE ELSE to play backup point guard. The GM talked openly about it – “We are trying to find a backup point guard,” he’d say to reporters during practice with Delly missing layups in the background.

The Cavs called a lot of free agents.

“Hi Steve Nash! Can you be our backup point guard? Matthew Dellavedova is not very good at basketball.”

“I’m 41, and I can’t walk.”

“…Like we’d really only need you to walk for 10 minutes a game. Surely you can walk for 10 minutes?”

If you are unfamiliar with Matthew’s work, he is a smallish white man from Australia who spends most of his playing time upsetting players on both teams, getting thrown to the ground by bigger people and attempting passes like this.

He’s also my favorite player on the Cavs to root for.

Watching Delly compete in basketball is a lot like watching Australia compete in the Winter Olympics. Australia is a wonderful country that is blessed with beautiful coral reefs, friendly people and kangaroos. But no snow. As a result, Australians are AWFUL in the Winter Olympics.

I know this, because Deserae and I visited Australia during the Winter Olympics last year. Watching the Winter Olympics in Australia is very different from watching in America. For example, since the country doesn’t have much interest in winter sports, it doesn’t produce many knowledgeable broadcasters. The result is kind of like watching the Olympics with your mom.

American broadcast: “You see how she lands on the inside edge of her skate so she can immediately launch into a second triple axle. She’s landing blind, so degree of difficulty is incredible.”

Australian broadcast: “Ohhhh! That’s pretty!”

It’s kind of like watching the Olympics with your mom.

Halfway through the primetime broadcast each night, Australia would just give up on sports and give the people what they wanted: an hour of the comedy duo “Roy and HG.” The Olympic coverage would suck you into the snowboard halfpipe, then just as the finals were about to get started –oh no, is it that time already? Please not tonight. Please, please, please – there’s Roy, settling in for an hour of incomprehensible jokes about Russia.

The best part about watching the Olympics in Australia is seeing the country’s love for their few countrymen who actually have a chance. In America, the broadcasters try to keep their homerism in check. Not so in the Land Down Under.

Snowboard Cross was one sport with a few Australians who had an outside chance at a medal. Unfortunately, the Australian men were getting smoked in the semi-final. After starting the race with their usual helpful commentary (“He needs to start going faster if he wants to catch up”) the broadcasters finally admitted things weren’t looking great. But they never lost hope.

“Their only chance now is if someone else falls.”

“Well Dave, you hate to see anyone get hurt, but if there ever was a time for a spill…”

The two broadcasters shared a hearty chuckle.

Deserae and I loved it. We came back to the hotel every night and cheered as hard as we could for Australia.

The person we cheered for hardest was Lydia Lassila. Lydia is a national treasure who competes in freestyle skiing. She won the Australia’s fourth ever Winter Olympic gold medal in 2010 and was the nation’s best hope for repeating in 2014. Every night, there’d be a new feature on Lydia, the brave mum who had inspired a nation.

Finally, Friday came – women’s aerials night. Lydia stumbled during qualifications, and almost didn’t make the cut. After that, though, she gained steam through each succeeding round. By the second round of the finals, Lydia had moved into second place. She launched off the ramp, attempted an incredibly difficult maneuver, and…

Nailed it!

Lydia fist-pumped her way to the bottom of the hill, and the announcer could no longer contain herself.

“GOOD ON YOU, LYDIA! GOOD ON YOU!”

Deserae and I cheered.

By the time the last round came, we were all in. Lydia had moved into first place. All she had to do was…

NOOOOOOOOO ROY AND HG!!!!

…An hour later, all she had to do was repeat the second-round jump, and she’d win. But being the fierce, brave competitor that she was, Lydia would not take the easy route. She chose the quad-twisting triple somersault, a trick that had never before been landed by a woman.

She set up, took a deep breath, then launched herself down the chute. In the air, she flipped around and around. The nation held its breath. Just one more half flip and…

…she landed on her butt.

The announcers gasped. Lydia hung her head. Our vacation was ruined. After spending the next few minutes guessing what went wrong, the announcers threw it back to the studio. The anchor — I am not making this up — had tears streaming down her face.

Lydia never got Australia its fifth gold medal, but I had more fun cheering for the underdog Aussies to get a single gold during the Olympics than I ever did for any Michael Phelps race.

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What does any of this have to do with Matthew Dellavedova?

This year, I’ve learned that it’s really nice to have great players like LeBron James, Kevin Love and Kyrie Irving on your team. But sometimes it’s even more fun to watch your season get saved by a small maniac who spends half the game on his butt.

With half his team injured and the Cavs desperately needing a victory, Delly somehow led his team to a closeout victory in Game Six of the Eastern Conference Semifinals with 19 points. He got invited to the post-game press conference, where he sat next to LeBron’s $2,000 hat and defended his own $30 H&M hoodie. “It’s actually a nice jacket.”

This past Sunday night, Delly was again doing what he does – running into people and making them angry. Finally Al Horford, the Hawks leading scorer, got fed up with it, dragged Delly to the ground and body slammed him.

While the refs reviewed the play, the crowd started showing their appreciation for the little guy.

“Delly! Delly!”

The chants got louder.

“DELLY! DELLY!”

The jumbotron camera focused on Delly. He stared blankly with his mouthguard hanging out of his mouth.

I was at the game, and even though the Cavs won in overtime, even though LeBron scored 37 points, even though the halftime show featured a chihuahua balancing on an acrobat’s back, the highlight of my night was cheering for a scrappy Australian who had spent the past seven months getting torn apart by the Internet.

Good on you, Delly. Good on you.

LIFE LESSON #70

Find a Delly to get behind. It’s just more fun.