Orlando, FL 2010: NBA Hall-of-Famers-to-be Ray Allen, Paul Pierce, and Kevin Garnett (obstructed) have likely gotten, and have narrowly lost, their last shot at an NBA title. Their storied careers nearly annexed a final, shocking chapter as they played the role of underdogs all the way to the last moments of Game 7 of the NBA Finals.
From Trent Ling:
I vividly recall my childhood in the 1970’s when my dad used to recount to me the titanic Celtics-Lakers showdowns of the 1960’s. He spoke passionately of the relentlessness of the mighty Bill Russell and his rag-tag-band of teammates. I best remember his tale of the 1969 clash, where, heading to Game 7 in Los Angeles, Laker owner Jack Kent Cooke loaded the rafters with balloons in anticipation of a long-awaited Laker triumph in the theretofore one-sided rivalry. Despite Los Angeles’ pre-celebration, the Lakers’ home court advantage and deeply palpable angst and dire need to win just once in the string, the sagging Celtics who barely made the playoffs, and the newly assembled Laker triumvirate of Wilt Chamberlin, Jerry West, and Elgin Baylor, the Celtics won again and the balloons spent the night in the rafters! I was nine years old when my dad’s story struck a chord deep within me. I’ve never forgotten it and I have longed to see mere glimpses or slivers of similar occurrences ever since that time.
Fast forward to yesterday. Here was another busted down Celtics team ambling into the Lakers home building for another Game 7 where nobody with a basketball IQ could configure a vision for a Celtic victory. For me, 36 years after my dad’s compelling storytelling, a chance for a childhood fairytale déjà vu presented. However, as I feared, an unwarranted Laker free-throw fest down the stretch, greeted with local cheers and amusement, mangled a precious opportunity and delivered a ho-hum four-point Laker victory.
I remain a spiritual romantic. Give me David over Goliath any day! 1 Samuel 17. I root for heart and will over ability and entitlement on all occasions. Don’t you?
The Celtics looked held together with paper clips, masking tape, gum, Elmer’s glue, safety pins, and twine (among other less identifiable fastenings). Starting center Kendrick Perkins missed Games 6 and 7 with a knee injury. Point guard Rajon Rondo broke the Lakers’ defense down a thousand times for nothing because he just cannot and will not shoot the ball. Ray Allen was frustratingly old and cold despite momentary appearances of his Hall of Fame shadow. Paul Pierce fell down a hundred times and somehow lumbered his aging frame through the entire series. Kevin Garnett was utterly utterly utterly (did I say utterly) exhausted! These ancient latter three, well past their primes, likely will not again return to the Finals of this youth-infused league.
Conversely, the Lakers were composed of a youthful, all-star, cast. Kobe Bryant was again the best player in basketball this season. At over seven feet tall, Pau Gasol and Andrew Bynum present a real twin-tower act that needed only to be complementary. Ron Artest was his perennially well-awarded defensive stalwart self. And, Derek Fisher remained the most opportunistic pressure performer of all unsung heroes in any sport.
Of course, just to goose this letter, the Celtics led early and often and by as many as thirteen. They led after the first quarter by nine; at halftime by six; and after three quarters by four. Déjà vu 1969? Of course not! I love to see the Bible happen, but I suppose the very rarity of David-over-Goliath episodes drives my insatiable longing for them. In that, I’m sentenced to enduring the reality that the “davids” almost never win.
Of course, the city of Los Angeles basks in the plasticization of life. Though not surprised, I was still miffed that the Celtics were not even mentioned in the Lakers’ post-game celebration interviews on network television. No shout-out, no acknowledgement, no expression of appreciation, no nod of the cap (wrong sport, I guess).
If the brothers in the ministry banded together and narrowly defeated the children of the ministry in basketball, it’d be bizarre and distressing to witness the brothers, in the role of Goliath, excessively celebrating their boring victory. Though not as severe in yesterday’s Laker triumph, the same bad flavor spices and permeates both scenarios.
The Celtics Doc Rivers outcoached eleven-time NBA coaching champion Phil Jackson. The Celtics outhustled and outplayed the Lakers. For those remarkable accomplishments, the Celtics have little to show but needling letters like this one in a random haystack. Nobody seems to mention such things, but that’s not because I’m wrong. Sadly, like the rest of the world, almost all of NBA observance has gone the way of the thud and the dud.
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