The 2009-2010 Boston Celtics season was cooked up by some god in the midst of a hallucinogen induced madness. Driven by sadistic humor and the rampaging need to tease, taunt and torment before providing a run of excitement and unabashed joy; ultimately culminating with the one fatal flaw rearing its grotesque head.
The team started off resembling the Celtics that operated with a super-swarm mentality, the whole greater than the sum of its parts. Destroying the opponents' will with impassioned defense and innumerable offensive weapons. Peaking on a Christmas day victory over Orlando's Magic even while lacking the engine of unstoppable intensity that is Kevin Garnett.
Post Christmas depression extended through the remainder of the regular season as the squad battled to stay afloat in a roiling sea of inconsistent and mediocre basketball. The period was defined by the rearing of that evil fatal flaw. The undefinable ability to keep piling the dirt on the opponents casket. The need to not only knock the enemy to the ground but to stomp on his windpipe. The insatiable desire to impose dominance until the final tick of the clock.
It was a maddening regular season. Luckily netdugout.com didn't launch until mid-May and thus I was spared from driving myself to lunacy with my inability to make hide nor hare of the team's topsy turvy season. A task that would have surely concluded with me typing away in the common room of a mental institution. Working on the great American novel on a broken typewriter with a missing Z key, wearing a bathrobe and a proper newsman's cap with a press pass affixed to the bill.
But oh the glorious redemption of the post season. Jubilation, domination, opponent's exasperation, an end to the tribulation. The Celtics stormed through the gauntlet of the Eastern Conference, besting overrated opponents with a quiet confidence and unwavering determination, projecting an air of invincibility throughout. They got stronger with the progression of each series; changing perceptions on both their ability as a team and the NBA's latest new wave of superstars. The old dogs were going to have their day, with the help of their innovative whirlwind, Rajon Rondo.
Destiny had paved the way for a harkening to the NBA of yesteryear and a meeting of the two franchises that lorded over the NBA throughout history save for brief uprisings from His Airness, the Bad Boys and Los Spurs. Destiny had deemed that the two prior champions would meet for the new age rivalries rubber match. Fittingly, the Finals held no real rhyme or reason. Hero's became goats game to game and the old adages were as useless as the 2009 Eastern Conference Championship t-shirts that were printed for sale across New England.
The Finals became a microcosm of the season for our protagonists from Boston. The offense came and went, with the exception of at the conclusion of quarters and halves, when it remained consistently offensive in the sense that it hurt to watch. The Celtics maintained their quiet determination and confidence, stealing game 2 on the back of Jesus Shuttlesworth who inexplicably disappeared for the remainder of June. With the highs came the lows, intertwined for the season and refusing separation. Incomprehensible no-shows in games 1, 3 and 6 allowed the Lakers to push into a home court game 7 for the whole bag of marbles.
The fatal flaw refused to stay dormant and snuck its gnarled face into the aspirations for banner 18; destroying the narrative for the fans of the green team. Thirteen point advantages are by no means insurmountable. The foot must stay on the gas pedal. Undermanned and running on reserves, deep in enemy territory, at the end of a long and bloody campaign, the Celtics were unable to deal the final blows necessary to shatter the psyche of their opponent.
The ending is especially hard to stomach due to the validation it provides that smug asshole Phil Jackson in his surpassing of the great architect Red Auerbach. Luckily Auerbach gets to have his say posthumously through his final shot across Jackson's bow: “He’s never tried building a team and teaching the fundamentals,” Auerbach said. “When he’s gone in there, they’ve been ready-made for him. It’s just a matter of putting his system in there. They don’t worry about developing players if they’re not good enough. They just go get someone else.”
Sour grapes and taunting from beyond the grave aside, the Lakers earned their title. Victory depended on the inconsistent three point shooting of a maniac and the mere centimeters of difference between Rondo being able to push his steal from Bryant back into play. But Artest's shot was true and it must be acknowledged that the Lakers made the necessary plays to attain the championship.
The season's climax doesn't invalidate the journey. The Celtics were unable to leave their one fatal flaw in April with the rest of the regular seasons peccadillos, but they fought valiantly to a game seven finale that nobody gave them a reasonable chance to reach. This was a convention flouting season and it ended almost fittingly; breaking the long-held traditions of American cinema and allowing the bad guys to escape with the trophy.
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