Blogging on Meds

  

The scene in Copley Sq: fans and the racist cops who hate them, arresting a doo-rag-men. Pics by Geoff Kenyon.

In Europe they’re called hooligans, sometimes thugs. Americans call them delinquents, punks. In Boston, Mayor Menino calls them “knuckleheads.” Others use the anti-Irish Sully or Mick. But the most unique word to describe Boston’s insane fans is “Yahoo.” As in, “You see that fahkin’ Yahoo on TV throw a street sign through that window?”

For the past week, I’ve been among the Yahoos in Boston and various towns along Massachuesetts’ North Shore and Merrimack Valley, and in southern New Hampshire. This area truly is Celtic Nation, and it’s where I grew up. Remember, the Pats play 30 miles south of Boston, in Foxboro, and the C’s above North Station. Admittedly, I think I am a Yahoo. 

The latest episode of Yahoo-ery started Tuesday night with KG’s post-game interview. The Celtics had just won their first NBA victory in 22 years, a record 17th for the franchise. Still, it was the first ring for C’s superstars’ Ray Allen, Paul Pierce, and Kevin Garnett. Green and white confetti rained down as the Big Three got emo on the parquet.  KG—tears in his eyes, scowling, yelping, hat pulled lowed—suddenly thanked “Peanut” on network TV. 

Of course, no one knew who Peanut was. But every Yahoo in Boston has a friend nicknamed a Peanut. And with this, the streets began to fill with Yahoos, myself included, our collective inhebriated brains thinking, “Yeah Peanut!!! This one’s for you!!! Peanut…ooowwwoooowaaaawaa!!”

I was by Northeastern University—Yahoo Central—my alma matter (ok, I went there for one year), bottle of tequila in hand, a “Wooooo” on my tongue, celebrating on St Stevens St. There I spotted two Yahoos in wife-beaters aptly beating up a mailbox. One had sweet ink: a tribal armband enmeshed with a Red Sox “B.” Around the corner, in front of Our House (a bar famous for selling $3 32 oz. beers called Bruebakers aka “‘Roid Rage-ade”): ten Yahoos hugging while pogoing and yelling “Boston, Boston!”

Inside the bar, TVs were tuned to live footage of fans rioting downtown—dancing around mini-fires, running into trees, climbing trees, kissing trees, facing off with cops. I soon found myself fighting the bouncer at Our House for absolutely no reason. Kicked out, I put on another shirt and snuck back in. “Lollipop” was playing; chubby fake id chicks dancing; ‘roid bros started fighting. Damn, it felt good to be a Yahoo…

(more…)

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Pierce drives on Jason Kidd in 2002 playoffs comeback. Pats parade—Green version next week?

The Celtics shocked the world Thursday, staging a record 20-pt comeback against a Lakers team that hadn’t lost a home game in the playoffs. Taking a 3-1 lead, the C’s are poised to win their record 17th title, Boston’s first in 22 years. Two stories today focus on Celtic legend.

The Boston Globe looks back to 2002, when the Celtics staged a similar record playoff comeback against the New Jersry Nets. I hated Jason Kidd back then. We made shirts that said “Wifebeater” over his number. His wife, Jumama or something, was annoying at the games, and Kidd had been arrested for slapping her around. Ever the gentleman, Bob Ryan said on ESPN that Jumama deserved to get hit, forever losing his national pulpit. The shirt sold huge for years. Good ole Antoine Walker comes off like a champ in this story:

But the origins of the comeback might go back even further, to a May 25, 2002, playoff game, when the Celtics overcame a 21-point fourth-quarter deficit to defeat the New Jersey Nets, 94-90.

“For me, it was deja vu all over again, watching the game [Thursday] night,” said former Celtics guard Kenny Anderson, who is in Los Angeles for a promotional event. “Paul Pierce was the only guy who played in both games, and I knew he was sitting in the huddle saying all the things we said. “He had been in that situation before and he pretty much knew what could be done.”

The Celtics entered Game 3 of the ‘02 Eastern Conference finals tied with the Nets. And the Nets led by 26 points in the second half, but were outscored, 41-16, in the final quarter. The Garden crowd had been booing in the third quarter, but ended up cheering on the Celtics in a chaotic final quarter. At the time, the Celtics said they were motivated by an inspirational speech from Antoine Walker.

“[Walker said] no matter what happens in this fourth quarter, win or lose, we’re just going to go down fighting,” Pierce said after that game. “We’re not going to get embarrassed tonight.” Pierce had been in a shooting slump, connecting on 5 of 34 shots in the series, then scored 19 points in the final quarter.

“Antoine was so positive in timeouts,” former Celtics coach Jim O’Brien said. “He was saying to Paul, ‘You just take over this damn game. You just start carrying us. Attack, attack, attack.’ ”

A Rodney Rogers foul shot with 3:55 remaining started the Celtics’ decisive 13-2 run, Pierce’s free throws giving the Celtics a 91-90 lead with 46 seconds to go. Then Anderson broke in for a layup off a Kerry Kittles turnover to make it 93-90. Walker hit a free throw to complete the scoring.

Before Pierce’s free throws, the Celtics had led for a total of 13 seconds, on Eric Williams’s foul shot in the opening minute of play. After the game, Celtic players embraced Pierce near center court, and when Pierce broke free, he jumped on the scorer’s table and gestured to the crowd.

O’Brien, normally undemonstrative, got caught up in the moment, pumping his fist toward the fans as he went to the locker room.

The NYT, meanwhile, writes about when The Big Three first met coach Doc Rivers and he took them in Duck Boats along the championship parade route. Very cool:

Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce and Ray Allen had just become teammates last summer when they were ushered onto one of Boston’s famous duck boats and taken on a tour by Celtics Coach Doc Rivers.

It was a move ripped straight from the Phil Jackson coaching manual — a team-building exercise wrapped in a whimsical diversion. Rivers showed his three superstar players the parade route used by the Patriots and the Red Sox, preaching sacrifice and team defense along the way.

That poetic moment may soon be enshrined in franchise lore, next to tales of Red Auerbach’s cigars, Larry Bird’s twirling towel and, most certainly, Thursday night’s stunning comeback victory over Jackson and the Los Angeles Lakers.

The Celtics hold a 3-1 lead in the N.B.A. finals after wiping out a 24-point deficit in Game 4. On Sunday night, they are poised to claim the franchise’s first championship since 1986.

So Rivers was asked to retell the story of three All-Stars, one coach with a team-first sermon and one amphibious vehicle.

“I just thought it was important that they saw the route,” Rivers said Friday of the duck-boat tour. “Paul knew about it. Paul has been in Boston for so long. But Kevin and Ray, I think they thought we were going on a historic trip of Boston. I don’t think they really got it at first until we explained to them what we were doing.”

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Unlike the rest of all male (and some female) sports announcers, newscasters, meteorologists, etc. who dress in standard shirt-tie-coat combination of some sorts, TNT / TBS sideline reporter for the NBA, Craig Sager needs some recognition for his outright loud and obnoxious apparel. I fully embrace his clothes, no matter how many times he gets clowned by the likes of Kevin Garnett and Reggie Miller. Cheers to you Craigers. Unfortunately I can’t find a good photo of Craig with his sometimes flat-out shocking gear on, but if you’ve ever seen playoff basketball, you know exactly who I’m talking about.

Baron’s clowning on Craig! HA. This is funny…

p.s. Totally odd side note bit of news about Craig Sager. What many people (actually just Baseball fans our parent’s age, maybe even grandparent’s age) do not know about Craig Sager is that he is the fan who was waiting for Hank Aaron at home plate after Aaron hit his 715th home run.  Craig can be easily recognized in the fracas at home plate after the home run because of his long white overcoat that he was wearing.

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Paul Pierce scores 41 as Celts win Game 7 of semis vs Cavs, advance to Eastern Conference Championship, first game Tuesday against Detroit…

Paul Pierce. The Truth. Number 34. I love you.

“Tonight was very simple,” quipped Kevin Garnett. “Get the ball to Paul Pierce and get the hell out of the way. That’s exactly what it was. No need for you all to ask me no questions. That was the game plan; this is what we did.”

Sports writing is too hard a concept (with too much jargon and nicknamery) for me to master, so I’ll keep it short. Yesterday Paul Pierce played the game of his career. I’ve loved the guy since his rookie year (I worked as vendor at Fleet Center back then). He never got his due back then, like when he lost Rookie of the Year to the flashier but suckier Vince Carter. Maybe it’s because Pierce isn’t a graceful player. He has runs with a goose step and often looks awkward. Even Celts coach Doc Rivers agrees:

“Before I came here I couldn’t understand how he scored so well,” acknowledged coach Doc Rivers. “He didn’t look that quick. But he’s very strong, and he has great fundamental footwork. He’s never in a hurry, and he knows exactly what he’s trying to do. And he can shoot.”

Pierce just guarded and beat Lebron James, the best player since Jordan. It’s time the rest of America gives Pierce his due. Hopefully the Celts will make (and win) the finals and The Truth will be re-named Prime Time Paul Pierce.

A Decade of Celtic Pride and Urban Myths

Back when I lived in Boston, there were all sorts of quotes we’d shout about Pierce, mainly “Gotta get that shit to Pierce…” He was the only Celtic that mattered and we loved him so.

One season we made a shirt that said “Celtic Pride (front): The Truth 34 (back).” The night the C’s beat Philly in the playoffs, we sold a 1000 of them (at $20 a pop—and I swear it was the ugliest shirt with the worst font in world history).

During the next series, this crazy black guy in a gray jumpsuit and fake diamond watch came running up to us, trying to fight. “I’m Paul Pierce’s roommate,” the guy shouted. “You can’t sell this shit!” Sure, guy, everyone said, as we held him back and the cops broke it up. Of course, the racist Boston cops did nothing to us illegal bootleg t-shirt vendors but tried throwing Pierce’s black roommate in jail.

We obviously didn’t believe that Pierce, a $20 million a year player, would have some crazy roommate running the streets. But the roommate was back the next game. And the next. But we were 25 and he was one, so he couldn’t stop us from selling the shirts. Then the Celts lost. And Paul Pierce’s roommate became the joke of jokes; “I’m Paul Pierce’s roommate…” our slogan.

But next season, there PP’s roomie was again: “I’m Paul Pierce’s roommate. Thought I told all ya’ll that last yeeeearrr. Fuck ya’ll— you goin to jail.”

At some point (I was out of the country), PP’s roommate arranged a federal sting on our The Truth t-shirt crew: 20 cops—state, Fed, BPD—confiscated 300 shirts and one Jeep Wrangler and held 15 kids ages 18-25 in jail. Yup, Paul Pierce really did have a crazy roommate!

The trial lasted months, and my buddy didn’t have a car for the whole time. It cost at least $6000 in legal fees. The NBA’s lawyer did indeed admit she was tipped off by Paul Pierce’s fucking roommate. Really. I mean really, this happened.

Lesson learned: Don’t fuck with the mother fucking Truth. And not just because he has a crazy roommate.

In 2000, Paul Pierce was stabbed 11 times in the face at a Boston nightclub:

At approximately 1:00 this morning Boston police responded to the Buzz Club, which is at 51 Stuart Street in the Theater District. Upon arrival, officers learned that one victim, 24-year-old Paul Pierce, had been stabbed several times during an altercation inside the nightclub.

The victim was attending a private party being held at this location. According to witnesses, the stabbing took place in the pool room located in the rear of the nightclub. The victim was at the Buzz Club with several friends at the time of the stabbing.

The Boston media, eager to protect the heir to the Celtics’ legacy, quickly turned the stabbing into an “accident.” Despite the fact that Paul Pierce comes from C-O-M-P-T-O-N, South Central, Los Angeles, and is a reputed member of the Piru Bloods street gang. In Boston circa Y2k, dudes didn’t just accidentally get stabbed 11 times in the face at rap shows. Still, the story died, and Pierce became a legend for playing with fresh stab wounds.

Eight years pass. Then two weeks ago Pierce flashed a gang sign at the Hawks bench. The NBA tried to keep the story out of the media, and the Celtics said the symbol meant “blood, sweat, and tears.” Yeah, ok. Actually it means “You motherfucking bitches best not fuck with The Truth because my roommate will kill you.”

Anyway, there’s some urban myth to go with the Celts’ Captain’s 41-pt Game 7 masterpiece. I guess we’re lucky Pierce and his Blood roommate didn’t kill us.

That’s not a gang symbol, I swear…Gang members from Compton really hate Zoot Suits too…

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Prior to dawning Celtic Green, Mr.Garnett was my favorite non-Celtic. A lot of this appreciation was centered around the fact that he looked dope in a uniform that incorporated green. It was easy for me to fantasize what it would be like to see him dominating alongside Paul Pierce and making that team legit, I’ve seen enough potlucked together Celtic teams, the Antoine Wiggle, Rogers and Delk jacking awful threes, trades for injured white dudes, etc.

Mr. Ainge made this dream a reality and the Celtics have delivered thus far aside from a perplexing series against the Hawks. My brain cannot grasp why they almost blew that series, I’m hoping that it was as simple as Bibby (who is a dead ringer for 2nd place White Rapper John Brown) was calling in hookers in the form of fat white chicks to their hotel rooms before each road game causing lethargic play.

This post is not about sports, Boston, basketball or anything other than competitive swagger.

As you see in the pictures accompanying this post, KG has not only brought a winning team oriented mentality to the Celtics, he brought a serious swag and a signature look, the sketchy towel wrapped around the neck or head, the premier post-game / bench look. This can also be modified into a look similar to something the king of swag’s Jim Jones, signature new look, which he’s repping on the cover of his latest CD:

Once again my white skin permits me from doing anything this cool so I have to celebrate how good this looks on brothers. Seeing cool black people in green with sketchy towels makes me almost hate how white skin looks in those uniforms, how did I ever think, Bird, McHale, or even fucking Greg Kite looked remotely cool or intimidating in those uniforms when something like this exists. Pasty white skin looks negative cool in anything white and sleeveless, sorry any-dude-USA wearing a wife beater, in case you didn’t know you look like an asshole.

Thank you KG for all your contributions, I hope to see dudes rocking the towel look this sticky New York Summer.

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In the conversation / argument over who should be the NBA MVP, some of his Celtics teammates are making a case for Kevin Garnett over Kobe Bryant, Chris Paul, and King James. While their argument is understandable I was amused at the multiple mentions of Garnett’s practice intensity:

P.J. Brown: “Just being able to see him since I’ve been here, he’s one of the most intense players that I’ve been around,” said Brown, who went to the Eastern Conference finals with Miami in 1996-97. “His practice habits are unbelievable and unmatched by anything that I’ve ever seen.”

Paul Pierce: “Everything he’s done for the culture of the team, his impact on the game, is just tremendous,” Pierce said. “The way we go about practice every day, the focus on games, spending some time with him on the bus . . . Those are things that can’t be measured when you talk about MVP.”

The quotes reminded me of this legendary Allen Iverson press conference:

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I’m not one of those guys who likes white basketball players because they’re white. Actually, I usually hate white ballers because they look so geeky. And there’s no two whiteboys I hate more than ugly-ass Dirk Nowitzki and his team’s junk-mouth owner Mark Cuban.

Since today is Godsmack Day, I am going to use a Wiccan spell I learned from Sully Erna to curse the Mavericks before their game against the almighty Celtics tonight (8pm TNT).

(The NBA’s image problem: 2008—two loser white dudes vs 87—Jordan. What looks better?)

Now we all saw Paul Pierce and Kevin Garnett whack Houston’s 22 game streak on Tuesday. And the day before, the Celts’ beat San Antonio. But Boston has a Texas Hex (the Globe’s words not mine) going back to 1986.

Shazam!!! I curse you Dirk and Cuban with my Wiccan white magic! Godsmack! Hex be brooookkkkennnn…arrrrggghhhhh! Phew, magic is more tiring than it looks.

(1. NBA’s image problem solvers: Paul Pierce looks on as KG makes moves. 2. Tribal Wiccan Metal: Godsmack.)

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