I have an admission to make. Last March, on my WMFO show “AirBall,” I made it quite clear that I did not believe in the Boston Celtics.
I argued they were chokers and that their style of basketball wasn’t conducive to crunch-time decision-making. I spat on Jayson Tatum as a leader and clowned Joe Mazzulla’s coaching. I confidently said Kristaps Porziņģis’ injury proneness would leave them with a gaping hole in the center of their roster come playoff time. Every time I watch this godforsaken team, I cannot help but hear these rotten takes ricochet around in my head.
I was wrong about them.
Prior to Tuesday, the Cleveland Cavaliers were the NBA’s shiny new toy, boasting a nearly historic 15–0 start to the season. All season long, the Cavs had been playing their opposition off the court. Although nobody saw this coming, the Cavs had aspirations of breaking the record for the best start in NBA history of 24–0, set by the 2015–16 Golden State Warriors. As the Cavs routed team after team, on the horizon appeared a grotesque, green goliath, stoically staring into their soul.
Last night, the Cavs went into TD Garden to face their most formidable foe yet. And if the Celtics winning the title wasn’t enough to remind me of how wrong I was, this game certainly did. The Celtics unceremoniously snapped the Cavs’ streak, winning 120–117. Although the game was a battle at times, the Celtics were clearly unbothered by the Cavs, nonchalantly holding their star point guard Darius Garland to an abysmal 8 points on 3–21 shooting. The Celtics do this nightly, acting as a fungus perfectly optimized to squeeze the life out of a perfectly healthy organism. Cohesive, egoless, telepathic and consistent as hell, they are the one team in NBA history that most resembles a dementor from “Harry Potter.” They suck your soul out of your chest and eat it for dinner.
The thing that makes me hate them the most is that they’re so unhateable. If they were bad people, it would be fun to hate them. But instead, it’s clear that they’re well-intentioned people who fully deserve everything they’re achieving right now. And I HATE that. I hate watching the technically perfect product of their exemplary personalities and aptly sized egos on the basketball court. Maybe that says something about my view of humanity that ego, conflict and passion are the hallmarks of what makes us, us. If everybody were like Derrick White and Jrue Holiday, vice would be eliminated, and humanity would live in a utopia. Chastise my view all you want, but it is clear that the Celtics simply lack the volatility that makes sports special — the human element that can elevate a team from great to legendary.
So although I was unequivocally wrong about the Celtics, their unfortunate success makes me more of a hater than ever before. It doesn’t help that I hate the franchise itself. I hate their stupid parquet court and that gleeful leprechaun. I try to give people around the city a dirty look if they pass me wearing a “BOSTON CELTICS 2024 NBA CHAMPIONS” shirt, just to make their day a little bit worse. I hope that their dominance doesn’t last — that time quickly erodes them into nothing. Just something tells me once again that I am horribly wrong.
There are simply two things for me to do going forward: Never again doubt the Celtics, and pray every day for their downfall.
