The Jekyl & Hyde act continued. The road women once again transformed into superheros at home. But today, that was good enough for me. Because I was honored to represent a small part of the loudest crowd I'd ever heard at a Boston basketball game. From the opening introductions, the fans were enthusiastic and involved 100%. This tends to happen when your home team, not to mention the opposition, plays each's best game of the playoffs. Make no mistake about, Cleveland would've beat most teams today. This was a war, one the Celtics were able to win with unselfish play, tenacious defense, smart substitutions (what?), and a very cohesive offense (what?, what?).
I've made no secret recently of my distaste for the stale Boston offense. Players had looked afraid of the ball down the stretch of games. There were units playing together for the first time all season! But tonight, Doc Rivers thankfully got it right. And it was a good thing, because so many bad calls went against the Celtics that we could easily be sitting home now watching ESPN preview a conference final between Detroit and Cleveland. There was the phantom foul on Kevin Garnett in the 4th. Delonte West kicking the ball out of bounce, but getting it right back. Lebron James holding Paul Pierce's jersey from behind while the ball bobbled out of Pierce's hands out of bounce. I could go on for hours, but I don't particularly want or need to. Because the C's overcame all of that, and advanced to the eastern conference finals after one of the best game 7s in NBA history.
The game was epic and should be sent to ESPN classic's archives immediately. They might as well label it the Lebron/Pierce showdown, because that's how it will be remembered. I've showered Lebron with praise throughout the entire season and he deserves it. Today he poured in 45 points despite hounding defense from Pierce and the unheralded James Posey. He also delivered what could've been the biggest play of the game, when he stripped the ball from Pierce, took it coast-to-coast, and slammed it home with authority, cutting the Boston lead to 1 with only about a minute left in regulation. It was the only moment the Garden was quiet all afternoon. Fortunately, Pierce came through.
Pierce has often been a forgotten superstar over the years, playing on bad teams, sulking, shooting too much, getting stabbed (sorry, low blow) . . . All past criticisms were drowned out by thunderous applause today, as Pierce played his best game in years! Sure, he's had games with better numbers, but never in a playoff game that mattered as much as this one. He dropped 41 on Cleveland, most of them against King James himself, who had no answer for Pierce's pattented fall-aways from just inside the arc. There's maybe a half-dozen players in the entire league who are truly unguardable once they get hot offensively, and 2 of them were on the same court today. It was an amazing site to behold. But Pierce would get the last laugh.
The 10 year vet was in the zone, creating open shots for his teammates as the Cavs defense was forced to collapse on him. He was unselfish, finding KG, Rajon Rondo, Kendrick Perkins, and P.J. Brown around the basket. He rebounded, he got to the line (where he was lights out), he even got hurt on what should've been a flagrant foul. Though he didn't leave the court, it was reminiscent of Larry Bird's injury and return against Indiana all those years ago. I admit I was nervous at the time and the next series of plays marked a battle of wits (or lack-thereof) between head coaches Rivers and Cleveland's Mike Brown. Not only did Rivers leave Pierce in the game guarding Lebron, but Brown failed to realize that everyone on his team should be attacking Pierce near the basket and settled for long jumpers. My fears were soon put to rest though. As soon as Pierce hit his next jumber, the crowd knew he'd continue to deliver, and he did until the final buzzer sounded.
Though Pierce deserved the most credit, his teammates brought their A-games as well. Most notable was Brown, a late season pick-up who in big minutes today proved more valuable than Sam Cassell in his entire stay in Boston. Brown rebounded, he hit shots, he intimidated, and he lead by example. Every time he fouled an opposing player, they knew it. He was not gonna allow 3-point plays, and his teammates followed the veteran's lead. Eddie House played crucial minutes and allowed the Boston faithful to breather easier. Perkins played strong, efficient defense on the glacial Lithuanian Zydrunas Ilgauskas, disallowing him from getting anything going inside the paint. One of my favorite moments of the afternoon was when, after watching Z nearly start a brawl near mid-court, the crowd erupted into chants of "USA, USA." KG scored big-time buckets and controlled the paint, leading all players in rebounds. And though Ray Allen has yet to come through with a big offensive game in the playoffs, when he was fouled with a chance to ice the game in the closing seconds, I knew it was over.
Sitting just 11 rows back, near center court, was a remarkable experience. My brother and I were within spitting distance of Jo Jo White, M.L.Carr, and "Satch" Sanders. I'm ashamed to admit it almost didn't happen. I wasn't quite sure I was ready to spend over $200 on a ticket (face value), even for a game as crucial as this one. Fortunately, my brother convinced me I was nuts, and we shared what was probably the best sporting event either of us have ever been to (and this from someone who had premium seats for game 1 of the historic 2004 World Series, which the Red Sox won 11-2). But this game was different. It was a must-win, a game 7, in a closed stadium filled wall-to-wall with green shirts and screaming maniacs. By the end my voice was shot. I was sweating profusely for at least the last 90 minutes. It was nearly non-stop action for 3 plus hours, which separates basketball from it's more popular competitors like football and baseball. The pace was electric, as both offenses woke up from their slumber. In my previous column I had stated that I wasn't worried about the Celtic defense, but rather their offense, which was producing nowhere near the level it was capable of. They actually scored 50 by half-time today, rather than by the end 3rd quarter. Imagine my relief of not having to take Doc out with a sniper rifle and risk being hauled off to prison.
The crowd was an interesing mix of young and old, black and white, men and women, although I'd guess there more suburban Jews in attendance than any other group. Still, it was rowdy. Plenty of famous athletes, including Patriots heros Randy Moss, Laurence Maroney, Richard Seymour, and of course Tom Brady, who seemed to think a San Francisco Giants cap would make him invisible to the other 18,000 plus in attendance. He was sitting next to one of the sexiest girls I've ever seen, but it wasn't Giselle, Bridget, or anyone else I recognized. That guy's a fucking pimp! I'd cut off my foot just to be him for a day. The P.A. guy knew just how to pump-up the crowd, not that he needed to with the effort we got from our players. Still, we were treated to "Eye of the Tiger", "Rock Me Like A Hurricane", "Baba O'Riley", new local anthem "I'm Shipping Up to Boston," and a film clip featuring "Welcome to the Jungle" that brought the house down. It was the classic Predator clip, with Arnold preparing for battle against an unstoppable killing machine in the jungle. We got a clip of Coach Devine in Rudy, affirming that "No one comes into our house, and pushes us around." We got some great crowd shots, most notably the two child dancers (one white, one black), who seemed to be on their feet for the entire 48 minutes. No points awarded for guessing who was the better dancer. And though the game was far too close to ever feel certain about the outcome, once the final whistle blew, it was Gino time. He clapped and shook like the fruitcake he is, and we all followed suit. We just couldn't help ourselves.
It was a special day, not only for me, but for my family, my friends, for the players (especially Pierce and James), for Boston, and for all basketball fans. Watching the Celtics gel in the biggest game of the year was enough to kill my inner grinch and convince me that they can win it all. But this game was bigger than the final score. It was a game I'll be telling my grandkids about one day.
Bring on the Pistons.
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