There are several achievements tonight for the Boston Celtics and the city of Boston. Buried beneath the fanfare and confetti is something very real and human to us all, it’s Ray Allen rising above adversity and the devastating news that his son had fallen ill during Game 5 to win the NBA Championship title, it’s Pierce dousing Doc with Gatorade, it’s KG hugging Bill Russell after the victory and our favorite story line, the Cigar that Red lit up somewhere during the 4th when he knew it was a lock. Boston fans are drunk off this victory and hopefully some champagne as well but let’s not forget the passion and drive that brought us here, what these individuals have gone through and most importantly what Ray-Ray has been through, this man didn’t sleep, he played this game with a heavy head and heart and was able to rise above and drain 22 three-point shots in total in the finals, the most in NBA history and lead the Celtics to an emotional victory.
Growing up in the suburbs of Boston, one thing was fact, the Celtics were gospel, they were Winners! They were a tradition much like going to Church and Sunday dinner. My Italian family would gorge after mass and then enjoy the Celtics, often times it was a playoff situation where I quickly learned to hate players named Rambis, Lamibeer, Thomas or Worthy. Ultimately the results were favorable and I wore my “Six Pack” shirt with pride as the Celtics were Champions, they inhaled the fumes of Red Auerbach’s cigars and raised banners. My father pooled together with friend to buy Celtics season tickets for a good portion of the 1980s. He could have taken anyone to some of the most important and pivotal games in NBA history but he chose his son, barely in the double digits. He shared these moments with a young boy who would barely remember the humid Boston Garden where even Greg Kite was a hero. My memories are foggy, the details are aren’t sharp but with every passing year I realize what a sacrifice my dad made, taking a young boy to so many epic games and I him and his unselfish acts for the gift he gave me. I was lucky to witness so many classic games and I realize the importance more and more each day.
One must remember that in the 1980s the Red Sox were the puffy faced hard luck girl that you could convince to date you, she was flawed and cracked but she filled a void and ultimately you knew it would end in some shouting match that stung. In the end she was a quick fix, she left you upset and asking for more even though she wasn’t your first choice but the Celtics, the Larry Bird led Celtics were that hot blond that was way out of your league. They helped you develop a swagger, you wore the color green with pride and you felt like you had the biggest cock in the room even if you hadn’t really used that cock yet. In contrast, the Red Sox, now the copyrighted Red Sox Nation®, were really the Irish bartender chick who looked ok after a few shots, the one from Southie that cursed a lot and smelled like body spray. The edge of the bar conveniently hid her big ass and the whiskey shots blurred her ruddy alcoholic features and borderline see-thru complexion. She was second place, your consolation prize but not your holy grail. She was your Calvin Schiraldi. You didn’t expect jack shit from the Red Sox aside from pain and frustration mixed with a few highs, you weren’t bringing your hard luck girl home to meet the parents but the Celtics were the talk of the town, tthe press darlings, they ruled the 1980s in Boston and were the Boston fans’ trophy girl.
As I reside in Williamsburg, Brooklyn where Red Auerbach grew up I am overwhelmed by the moment, by KG exclaiming “Anything is possible!” and “I’m on top of the world!”. Oh yeah and I forgot he also said “What you gotta say now!” before he hugged Bill Russell and asked Bill he had made him proud. Even in his ultimate moment he was humble and conscious of what was happening, big shout to KG! It’s these moments where a multi-millionaire star player is being candid with a legend where I realize how special these celebrations are. It’s Doc Rivers’ Gatorade tie-tied suit, it’s Rajon Rondo hoisting a championship trophy, it’s Big Baby getting his first minutes in the finals and most importantly it’s the fucking shit bag, soul patch having Zen-Master not getting into the history books, that’s right fuck you Phil you fucking douche. Oh did I mention that was the biggest ass kicking in a deciding game in the NBA finals?
Finally, let’s celebrate Paul Pierce, the first thing he did is thank us for supporting him, despite the emotion, the moment, the history, the energy he chose to immediately to address the regular ass guy, thank you Paul, we love you, you ARE the truth, get that SHIT in to PIERCE!
Congratulations to the Boston Celtics, to a history, a tradition and a moment Boston and its fans are enjoying now.
PS- There was a brother in a rain coat and goggles being incredible during the celebration repping hard with the mic being the master of ceremonies, big shout to that dude.
PPS- KG is on ESPN right now being humble, would Kobe or Shaq ever do that? Nope. KG always considered himself as a champion in his heart, tonight he’s one in the history books. Holler at your fucking BOY!
PPPS - Lakers, did you really lose by that much, GOD DAMN.
PPPPS - If this doesn’t make sense fuck you, it’s 1:33 AM and I am crunked, eat my shit!
TAGS: Boston Celtics, Lakers, NBA Finals
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June 18th, 2008 at 8:54 am
Best hyped ass champion blog post ever! Fuck you Phil Jackson and your pinky ring!
June 21st, 2008 at 5:56 pm
Been too busy celebrating to even read the motherf–king blogz, but this is what it’s all about: Winning for the fans, your families, and history, not so you can be cocky like Kobe. The C’s really were gospel north of Boston when we were growing up. The Pats never filled the void (at least for me–spandex dudes jumping on each other in Foxboro–barf–is not as cool as dunks and threes above North Station).
Watching PP last night at Fenway, you saw a guy who really loves Boston—and wants Boston’s love right back. And here it is: I love The Tructh!!!