As is the case with all other Boston sports teams, you can only claim to be a fan if you’ve threatened to fight someone over team-slander. But most of the bad things you could say about the Celtics right now happen to be true. Former GQ intern Rajon Rondo does not look as good as we’d like. For those of you defending the man who stands before us, remember this?
That’s what could-have-been looks like.
I managed to avoid watching the C’s most of last year, if only because I don’t like to see epic poetry turn into a bildungsroman. But now I’m back, from outer space, and there’s a very little bit of hope. Kelly Olynyk and his gross facial hair still aren’t impressive. Zeller turns out to be the German word for “bench”.
It’s still early days in this year’s education of the never-sufficiently-tanking Celtics, but a light shone in the second half of the Mavericks game. After being thoroughly stomped into the ground by the dark scoring engine that is Dallas in the first, things came together. Marcus Smart looks like he’s been to this particular rodeo before, and nowhere was this more apparent than with his beautiful recovery-to-behind-the-back-assist combo when it was needed most.
Announcers said—like you do—that you shouldn’t get behind by so many points early in the game, but that’s not always controllable against Dallas. The Mavs score at an unmatchable clip unless they’re somehow destabilized, and this happened in much of the third quarter.
It should be noted that there’s a bit of rivalry between Jeff Green and Dirk. Jeff broke Dirk’s face open with an elbow. Dirk does not forgive; Dirk does not forget.
Avery Bradley stepped up to get the team within striking distance, but then, in the blink of an eye, the Dallas lead went from three to ten and it was all but over. Certain demoralizing factors played a role. On a tear, Rondo eurostepped into an offensive foul (~5:30 remaining in the 4th), and it seemed to give Dirk and Co. the deep breath needed to take things home.
Ultimately, the Celtics were playing a game they couldn’t win. The wheels come off, and you try to caulk the wagons and float. Sometimes the stream is so strong you scrap the wagons, build a flatboat, and ride downstream into better country. Sometimes you build your own little civilization on your raft, and tell yourself the shore doesn’t exist. You learn to catch oceanic birds with bits of glue and fish guts. You develop a wicked tan. As the noise of the sea rocks you to sleep, you dream of Kevin and Paul and Ray, of a better time, of the only Celtics you choose to remember.
Tell me you don't miss it.
Tell me you don't miss it.
-David
Stray thought:
The Mavericks drumline. I don't have a joke for this one.
Stray thought:
The Mavericks drumline. I don't have a joke for this one.
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