By Mike Brilliant

The Celtics played three games last week, going 3-0 against the Kings, Bucks and Raptors. All three games were of the “ho-hum” variety. None were ultra-exciting but the Celtics took care of business on the defensive end (as we’ve come to expect) to extend their winning streak to nine. All this with the first games missed from a member of the new “Big Three.”

For the week, I’ve assigned the following grades:

Coach Doc Rivers: A-

Doc has been doing a good job recently of keeping Garnett, Pierce and Ray Allen’s minutes down. But with Ray’s ankle injury keeping him out of two games, Pierce was forced to an average of over 41 minutes this week. Doc also made nice calls filling in for injured starters Perkins and Ray this week. Both subs, Big Baby and Tony Allen stepped up big when called upon.

Captain Paul Pierce: B

The Captain stepped up his scoring output to 25.3 points over the 3 games to compensate for the loss of Ray. But he also has been playing stellar D. Paul is getting a bit too comfy with shooting the 3 ball. He took 20 3’s over the 3 games hitting only 6 for 30%. But you’ve got to love only 5 turnovers this week from the Captain.

Kevin Garnett: B

The Celtics only gave up an average of 79 PPG this week. And the main reason is KG. Have you ever seen one player totally change the way a team plays D from one year to the next? The easy wins this week let Garnett average only 32 minutes per game this week. In that time he had a line of 14 ppg, 7 rebounds and 4 assists.

Ray Allen: C

Are his surgically repaired ankles going to be an issue later in the season? The Celtics aren’t taking any chances having Ray sit out one full week (2 games). In his lone game he played 36 minutes scoring 15 points on 5–13 shooting. That has been Ray’s typical performance over the last month. The consensus is that the ankles were affecting his shooting. Championships aren’t won in December. Give Ray as much rest as he needs.

Rajon Rondo: B+

I don’t hear many of the “so called experts” criticizing the Celts PG weaknesses any longer. In fact, there have been more and more articles raving about the play of Rondo. He has truly turned into a floor general for this team. He went scoreless last Wednesday versus the Kings but turned in scoring performances of 17 and 14 points after that. He’s becoming very consistent with his 8 to 15 foot jumper.

Kendrick Perkins: D (for Dumbest injury of the year, so far)

He dropped a bed on his toe? Huh? If this really did happen why would he or the Celts admit it? Why wouldn’t they just say he hurt his toe in practice? Perk was definitely the butt, or should I say toe of all jokes this week. When he did play, he averaged 4 pts and 5 boards in 25 minutes a game.

James Posey: B+

This IS the ultimate bench player. He provided both an offensive and more importantly a defensive spark off the bench this week, as he has all year. This guy is a steal for 2 years and $7 million.

Eddie House: B

House performed as expected this week. He played 20 minutes a game, averaged 10 points and played a non-traditional point guard roll. He’ll never put up big assist numbers, but as long as House brings the ball up the court and keeps hitting those open 3’s, he’ll be an integral part of the rotation.

Tony Allen: A-

Someone’s knee is feeling better. Tony started in place of the injured Ray for 2 games this week. He responded averaging 10.5 points, 4 rebounds, 2 assists and 3 steals a game. And his defense was a key contributing factor in holding the Bucks to 82 points and the Raptors to 77.

Big Baby Davis: A

Who would have thought Big Baby would get his first NBA start due to faulty bedroom furniture? Well he started against the Kings and produced 16 points and 9 boards in 26 minutes. Even when back to the bench Big Baby has earned 15 – 20 minutes a night going forward.

Brian Scalabrine: C

Scalabrine has been the big minutes loser with the emergence of Big Baby Davis. Scal only played 21 minutes over 3 games this week. At least he’s still telling jokes on the bench to keep the team loose.

Scot Pollard: Incomplete

Pollard did not play this week due to a back injury. Rumor has it he reinjured himself while trimming his pork chop sideburns.

Leon Powe: B

As always, Powe flexes his muscles whenever he sees minutes during scrub time. But he actually saw 2 meaningful minutes versus Sacramento due to the aforementioned faulty bed.

Gabe Pruitt: B

Gabe got recalled from the Pawtucket Celtics this week to see five minutes of action. With 7 points in five minutes, Pruitt vaulted to the top of John Hollinger’s latest “PER rankings for rookies who have been recalled from the minor leagues more than once in the last 2 weeks” category.

By Kevin Henkin

“So you don’t talk, huh?” I said to the Ghost of Christmas Future, who took the form of injured rookie superstar-in-waiting Greg Oden. “Still grouchy about the whole derailed rookie season?”

He shook his head and pointed to the crowded Dunkin Donuts in front of us on the corner of State and Broad Streets in downtown Boston. He led us to the back of the long line and we waited there behind a couple of boisterous college students.

The tall one in front of me held up a couple of printed pages and said to his friend, “Did you read his latest garbage today?” Peering over his shoulder, I couldn’t help but notice my name at the top of the page.

His buddy, a short heavy-set guy with a thick goatee, nodded emphatically.

The tall guy said, “Let me read this part out loud.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Know this. If you have some change left over from your holiday shopping, Kay Hanley’s Fluffy Pink Slippers just might be the finest female solo effort this side of Emmylou Harris’ Chamomile Unicorns. And oh yes, John Hiatt joins in on a couple of tracks. Trust me, It’s exactly as fun as it sounds.”

His friend snatched the printouts, crumpled them up and threw them in the trash bin. “Why do you even bother reading him anymore?”

“I still read him because he used to be good but now he just bothers me. Does he honestly think we care about some old reporter dude’s music recommendations? It’s like asking my dad what his favorite Fratellis songs are. Besides, he’s supposed to be covering basketball. I just want him to tell me about the Celtics because after all, he has media access to them and I don’t, so he’s supposed to know more about them than I do. But no, he thinks he’s transcended all that and gets to waste my time blabbing about some old lady musicians. Kay Hanley? Emmylou Harris? Unicorns? I mean, why not just head up a new Lilith Fair and write about that?”

Horrified at my own future material, and at the possibility of another Lilith Fair, it took me a moment to snap out of shock and realize that the ghost had transported us to another location.

We were sitting in the open dugout of a softball field, joined on the bench by a group of men and women in the mid-thirties. Their side was up and they were all shooting the breeze while waiting for their turn at bat. During a lull in the conversation, one of the women mentioned my name and asked the man sitting next to her if he’d read my latest column.

“Wait, was that the one where he did the whole city comparison thing between San Antonio and Boston because they’re in the NBA finals together? You know, ‘We have baked beans and they have refried beans. We have Good Will Hunting and they have The Alamo’? Man, talk about lazy and putrid.”

“No, no, not that one,” she said. “It was the one where he calls everyone who has the nerve to disagree with him a blowhard and insinuates they don’t know the first thing about basketball.”

“I don’t know. The guy is known as a basketball guru in these parts.”

“Great,” she said, rolling her eyes, “which was fine when he still wrote primarily about professional basketball. Now he seems to avoid the topic at all costs, except every once in a while, he’ll show up to cover a game and then write a piece that talks down to us reader serfs like he’s the almighty authority of the NBA. Does he know more about basketball than I do? Yes. Even so, I guarantee you I’ve watched more Celtics games than he has this year.”

I tugged on the big ghost’s sleeve. “Please, I’ve heard enough,” I said. “Take me back to my place. I can’t bear to hear anymore.”

He looked at me and wagged his finger very slowly in my face.

“That’s Mutombo’s cool move,” I said. “Get your own.”

Ignoring me, he snapped his fingers and we were transported to the break room high up in one of the big towers downtown.

As if on cue, a bald smarmy guy wearing suspenders held up a printout and said “Anyone want to read this?

“Who wrote it?” someone said.

The smarmy guy answered with my name.

A derisive series of “No thanks” comments made their way around the table but he wasn’t deterred. “You know what was the worst part of it today?”

The replies came fast and furious.

“Let me guess. Did he go into further detail about his sore knee? Fascinating!”

“Or his phone conversations with his wise and amusing father?”

“Or about how he runs one mile every single day? Like I care!”

“Or name-dropping about his brushes with B-List celebrities? ‘Last week, I was standing in line at Starbucks behind Eliza Dushku. Trust me, she’s even hotter in person.’ Thanks, Ed Murrow. I needed you to tell me that Eliza Dushku is hot. In the middle of a basketball column, no less.”

“Or more Saved by the Bell References?”

“See, I don’t get that. Wasn’t he in his twenties when that show was on? I mean, wasn’t Saved by the Bell clearly geared towards early teens? Jeez, how embarrassing.”

“Enough!” I pleaded, but they couldn’t hear me so they continued ripping me to shreds. When I couldn’t listen any longer, I took the big ghost by the hand and dragged him out to the hallway. “So you’re saying I’m going to become an amalgam of the worst qualities of all the prominent Boston sportswriters?” I said. “Please tell me it’s not true. Please! It can’t become true!”

He gave me an evasive shrug.

I sulked against the wall and held my head in despair until I stumbled upon the biggest epiphany of my life. “Wait a minute,” I said. “This is only the future of what might be, right? I can still change things, can’t I?”

The ghost gave me a solemn nod.

“Ha ha, yes! I can still avoid becoming what I despise! Woo hoo!” Leaning my head back into the break room, I said, “Merry Christmas, you jerks! I hate every single one of you! Ho, ho, ho!”

And with that, my imagined future fell away and I suddenly awoke in my old recliner. The room was bathed in light from the television, on which Game 7 of the 1984 finals remained playing on a constant loop. The game was the middle of the second quarter and Tommy Heinsohn was announcing with Dick Stockton on CBS. Tommy was trying his best to sound impartial, and failing miserably at it. We all knew who he was rooting for anyway. I had to smile.

At my desk, I found an unopened box of Crunch ‘n Munch wrapped with a bow. I tossed it in the trash, sat down at my computer and began writing a new column. It began as follows:

“The future of the Boston Celtics remains unwritten. Nonetheless, if we’ve learned anything thus far, it’s that they belong right in the middle of the discussion of who might still be playing this upcoming June. Let’s examine a few key reasons why…”

THE END

By Kevin Henkin

I was out with a couple of the FCP writers before a game last week. We were discussing potential story ideas when one of the writers made an excellent point.

“You know, it’s a lot easier to write about the Celtics when they’re losing,” he said.

He’s right, of course, because there are only so many interesting ways to say “Boy, these guys sure are good”. On the other hand, steady doses of ire and annoyance tend to fuel many more forms of creative expression. Therefore, considering the startling level of success that the team has achieved thus far, it’s time for us writers adjust our standards of what is deemed worthy of criticism. From this point forward, no perceived infraction or failure is considered too trivial for commentary. Bearing these new unreasonable standards in mind, I’ve got some serious bones to pick with this current Celtics organization. Here are just a few of the things that are bugging me these days…

Eddie House’s Socks

What is with this look? If Eddie hikes his hose up any higher, he’s going to need a garter belt to keep them aloft. Regrettably, James Posey is also guilty of the same offense and Paul Pierce’s sock line continues to creep up. Brian Scalabrine, on the other hand, sports a much more pious low sock look. In fact, I’m not even certain Scalabrine wears socks because they’re tucked down so low. The point is, we could all learn a little something from Brian Scalabrine’s prudent sense of fashion.

Freak Injuries

Let me get this straight. Kendrick Perkins gets injured by dropping a headboard on his foot (see Pervis Ellison for furniture-related injuries). Meanwhile, Scot Pollard strains his back getting out of his car (somewhere, Trot Nixon smiles in vindication). Honestly, I don’t care for this trend of déjà vu Boston sports injuries. I currently wait in fear for one of the Celtics to roll out of bed and onto a shot glass or senselessly infuriate Irving Fryar’s crazy wife.

The New Red Auerbach Signatures

Some say the huge Red Auerbach scribbles on both sides of the parquet floor serve as a fitting tribute to the legendary team patriarch. I say the signatures make the floor look like one of those gigantic bank checks that Ed McMahon hands out to Publishers Clearing House winners. Hello ma’am. you’ve just won….a slightly worn parquet floor! HIYO!

The Too Drafty BankNorth Garden

Although I think the infusion of fans has warmed the place up a bit in comparison to recent seasons, the Garden is still cold enough to store slabs of beef next to all those Celtics championship banners (and Bruins division title flags). And speaking of cold…

The Inherent Unfairness of the T-Shirt Patrol

Okay, how many of you in the blue luxury section have ever seen a free t-shirt land within fifty feet of your seats? I’m willing to guess the answer is zero. This is because the T-Shirt Patrol doesn’t have any Dwight Evans-type arms within its ranks and their weak tosses always fall within the first twenty or so rows. Even when Lucky the Leprechaun unveils his impressive t-shirt cannon, his shots invariably sail into the nosebleed balcony seats while the poor saps in the blue chairs look up with envy and despair.

Ray Allen’s Shooting

Forget the fact that Ray Allen has knocked down two of the three biggest crunch time buckets this season, or that he has been hindered by recently resurrected ankle woes. The team needs him to be consistently hitting those shots during the rest of the game, too. Just who does he think he is, Bob Horry? And to think, we gave up the warm magic of Wally Szczerbiak for this guy.

I think it’s fair to say I’m only scratching the surface here. After all, nine game winning streaks are nice but they still serve as little solace to the chilly souls in the blue luxury seats who have to pay for their own t-shirts.

By Kevin Henkin

“What’s he doing here?” I demanded, pointing to the Ghost of Isiah Thomas, who was patronizing me with a vacant grin.

Stern shrugged. “He was the only one available.”

“Available?” I said. “Doesn’t he have a spinning class to attend? Or a team or a league to destroy? Or a female employee to harass? Or a multi-year max contract to offer to a vastly over-rated player? Or a lazy inbounds pass to make to Larry Bird? Or an honorary degree to receive from Clown School?”

The smile fell away from The Ghost of Zeke’s face. “See? This is exactly why I hate Boston. They’re such nasty people.”

“Take it easy,” The Commissioner said. “Isiah might be, um…challenged when it comes to assembling and coaching a team but as one of the elite players in the history of the NBA, he does know the game of basketball. Therefore, I’ve asked him to provide some further necessary insights on your Celtics.” He checked his watch. “I’m afraid your fifteen minutes with me are up. Good luck with your little waste of cyberspace. And remember, I’ll be checking back for licensing infractions periodically.”

And like a whisper in the wind, the Ghost of Commissioner Stern was gone.

After scanning the room for NBA team owners who might be willing to hire him, the Ghost of Isiah sat down in the chair across from me. He had an uncharacteristic and bizarre-looking slight growth of facial hair.

I said, “You look like my teenage cousin who thinks he’s been growing a beard for the last couple of months.”

“Let’s get this over with, okay?” he said in his typical sing-song delivery, sounding like a kindergarten teacher scolding a child for eating paste. “First of all, if you’re looking at the Celtics hopes of winning a championship this year, you’re forgetting one very critical component: match-ups. How else do you think the Warriors were able to upset the top seed in the West last year against Dallas?”

“I don’t know. Did you happen to serve as an advisor to Avery Johnson before the series?”

He let out a deep sigh. “Because the Warriors matched up particularly well against the Mavericks. It happens all the time. One team may be more talented than another but certain match-up problems are sometimes enough to override that. Remember Kenyon Martin against Antoine Walker in 2002?”

I shuddered. “I still have the nightmares.”

“Right. So bearing this in mind, let’s look at how the Celtics match up against the likely contenders. Like the Suns, for example. Their lack of size is a likely problem against Boston. Garnett in particular could give them fits over a seven game series. On the flip side, Nash’s speed is a real issue for the Celtics unless Rondo gets his act in gear on defense. For some reason, despite his quickness, Rondo keeps letting guys get by him this year. Part of the problem is he keeps cheating the lane too much because he likes the steals. Steals are sexy. He’s also having problems fighting through picks.”

“What about Dallas?” I said.

“Posey is the biggest positive you have there. His length, aggressiveness and effort on defense are Dirk Nowitzki’s own personal nightmare. Dirk’s strengths are being able to take big guys out on the perimeter and either hitting the J when they play off him or, if they play tight D, driving right by them because they’re usually not quick enough to keep up. Posey, though, has those super-long arms and is more than quick enough to stick with the big German.”

“How about the Spurs?”

“Well, Tony Parker poses the same problems for you that Nash does. On the positive side, though, Garnett is a good match-up against Duncan. With Garnett running the floor hard like he always does, he’ll have an opportunity for some transition buckets. Also, Duncan will tire out with all the running and when that happens, he typically picks up some easy fouls and gets factored out of the game early.”

“And Detroit?”

“Again, Garnett is the main issue there. How can they stop him? Rasheed Wallace certainly can’t. He’ll foul out in twenty-five minutes if he doesn’t get ejected first. Also, if Tayshaun Prince plays on Pierce as expected, Ray Allen will light up Rip Hamilton like a Christmas tree.”

“Interesting points,” I said. “I’ll take them all under advisement.”

“One more thing,” the ghost said. “I hear you keep moaning about point guard depth on the Celtics.”

“True.”

He shook his head. “What your point guards need to to do primarily is bring the ball up and initiate the offense. After that, so many of your opportunities come from passing the ball out of all the shifting double-teams. Look at the box scores. On a lot of nights, each of the Big Three will have four to seven assists apiece. With those three bona fide and complimentary scoring options, the need for a distributing guard is negated. Keeping this in mind, if Rondo or House go down, can’t Tony Allen bring up the ball? Can’t Ray Allen?”

“Yes, of course.”
“Then stop worrying so damn much about it. It’s a non-issue.” He stood up and straightened his suit. “Sorry to run but I’ve got a resume to update.”

“Hey Ghost of Isiah,” I said. “For what it’s worth, I like you better than the real Isiah.”

“I know,” he said. “Everybody does. When I snap my fingers, you’ll be transported back to your apartment in your evil little city.” And with that, he was gone.

When I arrived back at my apartment, I found a silent giant waiting for me in my recliner chair.

“How’s the knee?” I said, by now accustomed to being visited by the visages of famed NBA personalities.

The giant shrugged.

“So Greg Oden represents the Ghost of Christmas Future,” I said. “I guess that makes sense.”

The Ghost of Greg Oden stood up gingerly and limped a few steps, then jerked his head in the direction of the door in a “follow me” gesture. Together, we headed out to witness the future.

To be continued…

By Kevin Henkin

With the Ghost of Christmas Present Commissioner Stern’s magical authority, we were instantly transported to the second floor of the massive ESPN Zone restaurant in Times Square, NYC. Our table faced a wall of televisions and was situated in between two massive screens that featured the highest profile games. On one screen, the Dallas Mavericks were playing the Phoenix Suns. On the other was a game between the San Antonio Spurs and the Detroit Pistons. A pretty young waitress swung by to take our order but the ghost shoed her away without explanation.

“What’s the matter?” I said. “The Tim Donaghy thing ruin your appetite for a couple of years?”

“Ah yes, very clever. You’re about as funny as a premature Michael Jordan retirement.”

“You want to hear some Donaghy jokes?”

“No, absolutely not.” He paused as he pursed his lips together. “Then again, I suppose I should at least be made aware of these poor attempts at humor. Go ahead.”

“How many Tim Donaghys does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

“I don’t know. How many?”

“Depends on the Vegas Over/Under.”

He shook his head in disgust. “If I were you, I’d stick to your day job as a panhandler.”

He checked his watch. “Alright, let’s get down to business. I’ve been assigned the unenviable task of helping you.”

“How so?”

“By giving you the briefest of tutorials on reality. A clue, if you will, on the current NBA landscape and how the best teams stack up against each other. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what you hear. Let’s start out by watching these two games here for a few minutes, where you will see a showcase of the finest basketball players in the world competing at the highest level. Then we can discuss.”

While I watched, the ghost took three phone calls, made four of his own and scrolled through his Blackberry furiously throughout. After a few minutes, he shut the power off his communications devices and slipped them back into the breast pockets of his natty suit jacket.

“See that game there?” he said, pointing to the contest between the Pistons and the Spurs. “Tell me what you see.”

“Well, to begin with, I see two teams that know how to win. Not only games, but championships. I see teams that are greater than the sum of their parts, that have the requisite talent but win because their star players are unselfish and are supported by some key dirty work role players.”

“Fine, yes, very deep. You should consider starting your own blog someday when you grow up.”

“But I already do have my own-“

“Yes, yes,” he said, waving me off. “I’ve seen it. So you have an internet provider and a keyboard. Congratulations. I get around to looking at all of these little cesspools of cyberspace sooner or later. Which reminds me, get rid of that Celtics logo on the top of your front page. Its use without the expressed written consent of the National Basketball Association is strictly prohibited. Trust me. I have a room full of lawyers just waiting for my permission to ruin your life.”

“Sounds like good material for your new commercials,” I said. “The NBA: Where a Threatening Commissioner Happens.”

Ignoring me, he said, “Getting back to the matter at hand, let me tell you what I see. I see a San Antonio team that may or may not be running on fumes. We won’t know for sure until the playoffs. Tony Parker remains young but otherwise there are concerns about age and mileage. Manu Ginobili may only be twenty-nine but his many years of extra play on behalf of his country have made him more like a player well into his thirties. Bruce Bowen, once one of the premier defenders in the league, now makes up for his lost steps with cheap shots and thuggish play. Tim Duncan, although never much reliant on his athleticism, has also been slowed a step or two. And, he’s showing signs of being prone to injury. Detroit faces similar age issues and they still clearly miss what Ben Wallace once provided them. And they’ve done nothing significant to upgrade since their playoff dismissal last season.”

“What about Dallas and Phoenix?”

“If NBA titles were handed out for the most regular season wins, they’d certainly be among the favorites. Look, they are both very talented teams and Dallas made a few moves to address their inexplicable collapse against the Warriors. They both certainly belong in the discussion of legitimate title contenders. That said, Dallas still needs to demonstrate some mental toughness and Phoenix has ego, personality and chemistry issues.”

“What about the Celtics?” I said.

He shook me off. “Look, I’m not here to offer you guarantees or even likelihoods that the Celtics will succeed come playoff time. I’m here to convince you that our league offers a very desirable level of parity, far more so than the current NFL or in baseball. Everyone could pick the Spurs to win every year and yet San Antonio has not repeated on any of their four titles. In this league, all that matters is that your team is in the hunt come playoff time, and yours has finally reached that level. Good enough?”

“Maybe,” I said. “It’s just that all these other contenders, however flawed they may be, have at least been playing together for awhile now. They’re seasoned and battle-tested in the playoffs. The Celtics are not.”

“More fretting,” he said, then paused to consider is options. “I’m afraid you’ve left me with no choice.” He flipped open his cell phone and said, “Initiate Operation Zeke.”

When our summoned guest suddenly materialized in front of our table, I let out a horrified shriek. Because we were in New York City, nobody seemed to notice.

The Ghost of Stern seemed pleased with my reaction. “As a Celtics fan,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll recognize The Ghost of Isiah Thomas.”

This time, my scream drew the attention of everyone in the room.

To be continued…

By Kevin Henkin

The cast of the 1984 NBA Champion Boston Celtics faded away in front of us. They were replaced by the likes of Dino Radja, Xavier McDaniel, Rick Fox, Kevin Gamble and Sherman Douglas. Robert Parish sat on the bench, aging in dog years before our very eyes. Alas, by that point, the days of The Big Three were officially over. Also gone were about a quarter of the fans and most of the noise. The place was so quiet that you could actually hear some of the players shouting on the court and the squeaks of their sneakers. Douglas brought the ball up court and squeezed the ball into Dino Radja on the block. The big man double-faked, fooling no one, then dribbled the ball off his foot and out of bounds. After a television timeout, Acie Earl came into the game for Radja. The fan sitting next to me shouted a string of profanities about Earl and various members of his family.

“Don’t worry,” I said to the distraught fan. “Acie Earl will be out of the league inside of four years.”

“Oh, is that right, Nostradamus?” The fan chugged the rest of his beer and flicked the empty cup over the railing. “I love your pajamas, by the way. Did your mommy forget to dress you this morning?”

I tugged on the ghost’s sleeve. “I’ve seen enough of these horrible things. Get me out of here.”

“Sorry. I’m afraid there’s more to see,” he said as he snapped his fingers. Instantly, we were transported to another place. It was a newer place, although the parquet floor remained in front of us. The new building certainly smelled better but was otherwise soulless. Down below, M.L. Carr strolled along the sidelines like a friendly mayor, pretending to coach his team to victory. On the floor were Alton Lister, Antoine Walker, Todd Day, Greg Minor and Dana Barros. In a listless half court set, Barros passed off to Antoine Walker, who dribbled the ball up to his nipples on the way to the basket and threw up a desperation heave in traffic. After the shot inexplicably fell through the net, Walker complained to the nearest official about the lack of a foul call, then hooted and wiggled while the opposing team pushed the ball hard up the floor. It was the third quarter and the Celtics were losing by twenty.

“Why must you torture me, ghost? What have I done to deserve witnessing such evil?”

“Evil?” he snorted, his eyes alight with mischief. “I’ll show you some true evil.”

With a snap of his fingers, the happy-go-lucky M.L. Carr faded away, replaced by a stark raving lunatic named Rick Pitino. The diminutive tyrant was screaming at the top of his lungs at Paul Pierce, acting as if Pierce had just set fire to his Gucci loafers. Accompanying Pierce on the court were Walker, Ron Mercer, Tony Battie and Kenny Anderson. Among other notables on the bench were Vitaly Potapenko, Walter McCarty, Dwayne Schintzius and Bruce Bowen. Next to them was Jim O’Brien, who appeared to be on the verge of sleep. If there was a common theme among all of them, it was of agitated disinterest. After enduring more verbal abuse, Pierce sagged on defense and allowed his man a clear path to the basket. Pitino erupted and frantically gestured for a timeout, flailing his arms around like a man with a raccoon in his pants. The team moped back to the huddle.

“You know what’s funny?” I said to the ghost. “When they replace Mercer with Eric Williams, this will basically be the same team that O’Brien took to the Eastern Conference Finals a couple years later. But Pitino had to make it all about him. That was probably the best thing O’Brien ever did. He turned the team over to Walker and Pierce, empowered them, gave them responsibility. Without that, they never would have brought the defensive effort that they did for him.”

“Don’t forget about the mid-season trade the brought in Tony Delk and Rodney Rogers,” said the ghost. “Without that trade, they don’t go as deep. On the flipside, without that trade, they don’t lose Joe Johnson.”

“Even so, it was a special year.”

He looked at me for a moment. “Special? You’re a tad romantic about the 2002 playoff team, don’t you think?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? They were within two games of the Finals. If Pierce made that freebie in Game 4, they just might have advanced.”

“Where they would have been trounced by the Lakers.”

“What’s your point?”

“I just wonder why you fret and complain so much about the Celtics as presently constituted while you choose to celebrate a team that had a snowball’s chance in Hades of contending for a championship, as if 2002 should be included in the category of The Good Old Days. These are the Boston Celtics, friend. Unlike their hockey counterparts, they don’t raise banners for conference titles.”

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s just get this over with. Bring on the eighteen game losing streak and be done with it, you rotten ghost.”

“So be it,” he said as he snapped his fingers.

All things being equal, watching the group of young wayward Celtics was preferable to anything involving Pitino so I sat back and tried to enjoy it as best as I could, snatching and chugging the beer from the guy sitting next to me after he insulted my snowman pajamas again. The Celtics held a tenuous lead throughout the second half until the Pistons woke up with two minutes left and Chauncey Billups took over the game.

“Remember him?” the Ghost said.

In unison, we said, “Why can’t we get guys like that?” We sounded like morons.

As the final seconds ticked off the clock, fans moped out. The name Greg Oden was mentioned by quite a few of them.

“Are we done here?” I said.

“Indeed.” With that, we were transported back to my dark, chilly little living room.

“You will be visited by two more ghosts this evening-”

“No, no, no,” I interjected. “Save the ghosts. I learned my lesson, right? I’ll stop nitpicking about the team and keep things in perspective. I’ll stop my fond remembrances of 2002. I’ll enjoy the ride along the road to potential playoff glory, okay? See? I’m a quick learner.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s still more you need to see and learn,” he said. “At two o’clock, you’ll be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Present. And if you’re as quick a learner as you say, you’ll ditch the pajamas.” With that, he loaded up his snacks and left, walking through the same door from which he entered.

I was just changing into a pair of jeans and a pullover fleece when I heard more knocking at the front door. Checking my watch, I saw that it was still only 1:46 a.m. After peering through the peep hole, I stepped back and said, “I don’t believe this.”

Without waiting for me to open the door, Commissioner David Stern strode straight through it and into my apartment.

“What?” he said. “You were expecting someone else? You think I’m going to allow coverage of my present NBA without personally checking into it first? Grow up, son. Now, I have a table booked for us. You have fifteen minutes of my time. Let’s get going.”

To be continued…

Seasons Greetings, readers! This week, Full Court Press welcomes you to the holiday season with the first installment of A Celtics Blogger Christmas Carol, a tale of the fretting and redemption of a typical Celtics web chronicler. As always, comments are welcome (especially the positive ones). Successive chapters will run every Tuesday and Thursday until the last week before Christmas. I hope you enjoy them. So without further ado…

A Celtics Blogger Christmas Carol

By Kevin Henkin

Chapter 1

What is with all this damn happiness, I wondered as I watched the crowds scurry by my street-level office window. Sure, it was Christmas Eve and they were all probably headed home to their loved ones. Regardless, a mug of spiked nog, a pile of colorfully wrapped gifts and the love of family did absolutely nothing to address the many needs of the Boston Celtics. How could people remain so glib when their team remained so obviously flawed? After all, the Celtics were so thin at point guard. And what about the minutes allocation of the Big Three? Did people honestly think that these aging superstars could last into deep spring while shouldering so much of the load during the regular season? It was pure and utter nonsense. Regardless, they continued to parade by my window, happy, joyous, oblivious to the falling snow and to the shortcomings of their professional basketball team. Disgusted, I shuttered the windows and returned to the task at hand, hitting the play button on my remote. Again, I watched a replay of Tony Allen driving hard to the basket, falling just short on his lift and thus enabling a defender to swat the ball harmlessly away. Wringing my hands, I transposed my frets onto my computer screen, shaped them into a column and posted it to the site. By the time I left my office, the city streets were clear, save for the occasional lonely cab and a heavily coated homeless man mumbling something about Greg Minor’s heavy furniture. I walked back to my apartment and changed into a bathrobe and pajamas. Setting up in my recliner with a beer and a hearty bowl of hot soup, I eventually fell asleep watching Game 7 of the 1984 finals on DVD.

Sometime later, I was awoken by loud banging on my front door. Cursing like George Karl, I shuffled to the door and peered through the peep hole. Peering back at me was a young man with a huge nose, dressed in a food vendor uniform of blue and black. I opened the door.

“Crunch ‘n Munch?” he shouted and then danced around like a ninny.

I slammed the door in his face but it was a useless exercise because he passed right through the door into my apartment, grinning and shaking a box of snacks in my face. Tethered to his uniform and dragging behind him were several boxes of tasty caramelized peanuts and popcorn treats. I instantly recognized him as the shameless food vendor commonly known in these parts as The Crunch ‘n Munch Guy. At his peak, he was a BU undergrad student from New York who gained a brief bit of notoriety in Boston in the 90’s for his antics at both Fenway Park and what was then called the Fleet Center. In a nutshell, his schtick was to dance, clap and shake in the aisles to a point where people would buy his snacks just to make him go away. Back in the day, rumor had it that he annoyed Rick Pitino so much that the coach actually yelled at him during a game. After graduating from BU, he thankfully left Boston, only to resurface a few years later as a contestant on an especially ridiculous reality show set on an island. The last I’d seen of him, he was begging his fellow contestants in vain not to vote him off the show.

“I am the Ghost of Celtics Past,” he announced before resuming his loony dance for a few more seconds. Then he stood and waited, perhaps for me to scream in terror, or maybe just to buy one of his boxes to make him go away. Clearly, this was all just a terrible, terrible dream.

“Hold on a second,” I said. “You’re just a ghost?”

He looked confused. “Yes.”

“What a relief,” I said. “For a minute, I was afraid you were the real Crunch ‘n Munch Guy, back to promote a new season of Paradise Hotel.”

“No, no,” he said. “We’re saving that for The Apocalypse. In the meantime, we have many people and places to see.” With that, the two of us were mysteriously transported to the musty old Boston Garden, sitting in the front row of the balcony at center court.

“Hey, nice bathrobe, you loser!” a drunk yelled from three rows behind. He threw a cup of popcorn at us.

“Wait a minute,” I said, dusting off the popcorn. “They can see us?”

“Of course. We’re not made of glass. Now just pay attention and watch the game.”

I looked down at the beautiful parquet floor sprawled out below us. There before our eyes were Bird, Parish, McHale, Ainge, DJ. Maxwell, Henderson, Carr and all the rest of them. I was even happy to see Carlos Clark. They were getting ready to tip off against the Lakers.

“Look at how short their shorts are,” the ghost snickered. “I’ve seen less leg revealed in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.’

All around us, the place shook with noise and energy bordering on pandemonium despite the suffocating heat.

“Remember this place?” the ghost said.

“The original Garden,” I said, still reverent about the sagging old sweat box that smelled like a urinal cake and had a higher percentage of obstructed view seats than a circus clown car. “This is the 1984 team. And with this sweltering heat, it must be the Finals. Wow.”

The ghost nodded with the tranquility of Ray Allen at the free throw line. “This remains your favorite memory of the Celtics, does it not?”

“It does. I watched the last game of this series at home with my father. I remember shaking before the game because I was so nervous that they’d lose.”

“Why the nerves?” he said.

“Because I believed then, as I still believe now, that the Lakers were the better team that year. But the McHale clothesline on Rambis changed everything. The Celtics were simply tougher, physically and mentally. They wanted it more, and that’s why they won. Unlike in 1986, it was about more than just their collective talent that year. It was an amazing championship.” I shook my head at the memory of it.

“Good times, right?” the food vendor said.

“The best. Look at the Big Three. I mean, just look at them. The real Big Three, still in their prime. Man, things will never be the same.”

“Nor should they be.” He paused. “Do you understand what I mean by that?”

“No.”

“Then when have much more work to do. Let’s go.”

To be continued…

By Kevin Henkin

Well, I guess it takes a completely lackluster first half effort, a late blown lay up by Tony Allen, off games by Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen and an inexplicable game clock snafu on a road game against a tough opponent for the Celtics to have to suffer the indignity of their first loss. In my experience, at challenging, soul-searching times like this, it’s best to remember what’s good, to express what we’ve come to appreciate during this nine game start that has exceeded the expectations of even the most optimistic of fans. As medicine for the sting of a frustrating loss, I offer you this list of items worthy of such appreciation. When it comes to the 2007-08 Celtics so far, these are just a few of my favorite things…

James Posey – After the game on Friday night in which Posey provided a clinic on what it means to be an enormously effective role player/glue guy, Pat Riley was uncharacteristically effusive with praise for his former player, calling him a “big shot, big game, big time player.” Mea culpa time: I didn’t fully appreciate exactly how good this guy was when they signed him. If Danny Ainge wins Executive of the Year, this signing should be the deciding factor in the vote.

Bob Cousy in the Booth – Historically, Bob Cousy has been a human litmus test for Celtics Nation. His gloomy mood these past several seasons have served as a mirrored reflection of our own collective fatigue from watching too many lousy teams for too long. Now Bob Cousy is happy again, for good reason, and so are we. The fact that he refers to Mike Gorman as “Michael” during their broadcasts together is just the icing on the cake.

The New Red Auerbach Signature – I took a swipe at the Celtics last year for their lack of a lasting dedication to Red (the Auerbach shadow profile was confirmed as intended for last season only) so it’s only fair to heap on the praise for memorializing their patriarch via his signatures near center court written in permanent ink..

The Surreal Garden Atmosphere – Down the stretch of the game against the Heat last Friday, the fans hung on every play, remained standing throughout and erupted with such a force of elation upon witnessing Paul Pierce’s winning drive to the basket that you couldn’t help but legitimately compare the atmosphere to that of a playoff game. It was that good. One has to wonder if the fans can sustain this level of energy over the course of a long season but for now, the Garden has truly gotten its groove back.

The New Veteran Mental Toughness – Speaking of that Miami game, did you ever worry down the stretch that this team was going to bow under the pressure of a close game, or get out-savied by a more seasoned veteran opposing team? Me neither. It’s a nice feeling, isn’t it?

Kevin Garnett’s Attitude – He takes responsibility for losses. He holds sway over fellow superstars (Pierce credited his bizarre push-ups at the free throw line and subsequent domination in Indiana to Garnett’s encouragement to channel frustrations positively). And, he takes no mess, on the court or off. As an aside, did you catch his post-game interview in Indiana where an eager reporter began a series of redundant questions about the Big Three that have been asked ad nauseam since this past summer? Garnett interrupted, essentially asking if this was the first time the reporter had interviewed him since joining the Celtics. Once his point had been made, that such questions were fitting for pre-season fluff but that the focus should now be shifted to the games themselves, he patiently encouraged the reporter to continue. That moment, in my humble estimation, encapsulated the Garnett personality perfectly. Speaking of which…

The Pre-Game Powder Clap – How fun is this? Every game, just before tip-off, Garnett shakes a copious amount of powder into his hands and then claps them directly over the head of play-by-play man Mike Gorman (who has since wised up to the new routine and now covers his dapper attire with towels when Garnett approaches). Like Crash Davis once said, this game is supposed to be fun. Fun, god-dammit!

So as you wrestle for the last turkey leg this Thanksgiving, take a moment to include your own list of favorite things about the new-and-improved Celtics among your list of counted blessings.

By Mike Brilliant and Al Assner

[Editor’s Note: This week, we’ll begin a regular feature here at Full Court Press, which presents the back-and-forth banter of two of our writers (Mike Brilliant and Al Assner) who tackle the issues of the day. If you’re looking for snarky pop culture references, self-indulgent asides about recent trips to Vegas or personal anecdotes about friends and family members with clever nicknames, you’ve clearly come to the wrong place. Mike and Al are all about the basketball.]

Al:

Okay, a little over one week into the season, Could it have started any better?  

Mike:

Weeks one and two couldn’t have started any better for your Boston Celtics.  They started 5-0 against four playoff teams from last year.  Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen are as advertised, if not better.  KG’s intensity is not only rubbing off on the whole team but on the Garden fans as well.  And I don’t remember Ray Allen taking the ball to the hoop as much as he has. That’s been a bonus.
 
The biggest surprise to me so far is the defensive output of the Celts.  They HAD to be better than the teams we’ve seen over the last fifteen years, but I didn’t know they had the potential to be one of the best defensive teams in the league.  The one downside so far is the injury bug.  James Posey hurt his back in the Denver game, Scal suffered a karate chop concussion and then you suffered an ulcer from over-excitement (or over-eating) at the home opener.

Al:

Agreed that this was obviously a great start.  No one would have predicted a 5-0 start where everything that could go right, did go right.  Other than the injuries, the one thing that concerns me is the expectations.  Personally, I thought this was a 52-55 win team going into the season. At this point, though, 60 wouldn’t be out of the question.  I think it will be interesting to see how they respond to being the team with all the expectations.  Will the expectations affect Doc’s Coaching?   Will they affect the younger players?

Next topic:   What do you think the biggest hole is on this team right now?  

Mike:

Well, besides the head coach… ….going into the season, I would have definitely said point guard.  I thought that Rajon Rondo was better than most so-called “national experts” predicted, but through thirteen games (including eight in the preseason), he hasn’t been prone to the foolish turnovers he showed us last year.  And he’s directing and pacing the offense while staying out of the way of the “New Big Three” and occasionally going to the hoop for an easy lay-in.
 
So all that said, my biggest concern is now at the center position.  Kendrick Perkins is playing as effective as hoped.  He’s getting the occasional slams just by being on the court.  But more importantly, he’s playing good defense and getting some boards. Well, getting boards that KG hasn’t grabbed already.  But I feel like we have no depth at the position.  Pollard has not impressed.  And it seems he’s not impressing Doc either.  After getting extended minutes in the first game, “Mr. Crazy Pork Chop Side Burns” has seen fewer minutes with each passing game. At the beginning of each game, they should announce, “Introducing Scot Pollard, who will officially be filling the role of Kandi Man this year…’ At this point, I’m looking forward to mid-season when they can either sign P.J. Brown, Chris Webber or another TBA veteran big guy.
 
Al:

I would say my biggest concern is the lack of depth at point guard and center.  As much as I like Eddie House, he is not a backup point guard. And I though I like what Pollard gives you, I prefer a big man who could provide them with 15-20 solid minutes, some boards, etc.  Not sure who that could be, but I sure hope it isn't Chris Webber.  He wouldn't fit that role.

I’m also concerned about the minutes.  I think to keep it going for a whole season, the Trio needs to average no more than 35 minutes per game.  Otherwise I am concerned about injuries and fatigue.

Mike:

I agree that the minutes will become an issue later in the season if not closely monitored. Why has Rivers continued to play Garnett for the first sixteen minutes of each game?  I’d say that’s a bit too long that early in the game with out a rest.  Also, with the team up by forty points in the third quarter of the Denver game, why not sit Pierce, Garnett and Ray Allen for the whole last quarter?
 
Otherwise, I’ve been very encouraged with the play of James Posey, Eddie House and Brian Scalabrine.  Posey has shown his strengths by playing defense and hitting those spot threes.  House has shown he can score in bunches.  I’m also surprised in the early going by his ability to push the ball on the break.  I was led to believe that he has absolutely no point guard ability yet I think he’s shown adequate skills at the one spot.  Scalabrine has played the Mark Madsen/Eduardo Najera, hoops dirt dog role.  Funny how he played the same style during the last two years and he was considered a dolt.  Now that we’re winning, he’s heralded as the perfect role player.

Kevin:

Next topic: Van Halen. What song best applies to this stellar start to the season?

Mike:

Get lost. This is the Mike and Al column. And enough with the Van Halen references already. Save it for your next fancy gimmick column. Sorry but we’re talking basketball here, Lester Bangs.

Next topic: How has the Celtics’ chemistry come together so quickly?

Al:

Chemistry has come together because Garnett, Pierce and Allen are gym rats who love basketball.  If either of them were not as dedicated or like Gilbert "Terrell Owens" Arenas, it might be a problem.  Garnett is such a great leader.  He never puts himself first and is so intense.  Seeing him up rooting for the second unit with a thirty point lead was telling.  Basically, your team is usually good if the best player is also a leader.   It was sort of odd watching the post-game press conference the other night with Garnett on the podium with Pierce.  Yes, Pierce is the captain, but Garnett is the leader.  They should just name them co-captains so they can share the responsibility. Both of them were not great on their own.  But to share the load might provide them with relief.

Mike:
 
Who would be the perfect acquisition(s) later in the season for this team?  Choose up to two.   
 
Sam Cassel (buyout)
Skinny Antoine Walker (buyout)
Fat Antoine Walker (buyout)
Chris Webber (UFA)
P.J. Brown (UFA)
Dale Davis (UFA)
Vitaly Potapenko (UFA)
Earl Boykins (UFA)

Al:

I’d go with Cassel and Dale Davis.   I like Davis providing backup center minutes and solid defense.  As I said before, I think Webber is not right for that role. As for Antoine Walker, he would not fit any role here. Unless they needed an M.L. Carr cheerleading-type for the playoffs. 

I think Cassel is the obvious choice to play some playoff point guard minutes.  Might be too obvious though. Usually things like that don’t happen.  But if he was backing up Rondo I would feel a heck of a lot better than with Eddie House backing him up.
 
Next topic: This one is a two-parter. What is your current feeling for the number of wins and a realistic playoff scenario for this team?

Mike:

I originally thought that the Celtics could win 50 games.  But after seeing how quickly the chemistry developed, I'm giving this team 55 wins.  Hey, if Bob Ryan can revise his win total, so can I.  It could even be 3-5 more wins if the team stays totally healthy. 
 
I can see the Celtics entering the playoffs as the #1 or #2 seed.  This would give them the home court advantage for at least the first two rounds.  I think if they have home court advantage in any series within the Eastern Conference, they’ll win.  Hat gets them at least to the conference finals.

By Kevin Henkin

Two-and-Oh, baby! Who’s next?! Who wants some of this?!? Listen up, Duck Boat People, I want all those boats painted green by next June, catch my drift? And someone call the Dropkick Murphys. We’re going to need a new swagger anthem, pronto. And let’s get a few more of those magazine covers featuring the Big Three, huh? It’s been at least five minutes since I’ve seen the latest one. At this point it’s all about respect, yo, and the men in green have it coming to them in spades.

If you find yourself nodding in agreement to all of the above statements, you’ve officially been diagnosed with a syndrome that’s afflicting a growing number of Celtics fans these days, called Irrational Exuberance. Other symptoms include a strong denial of your team’s shortcomings and a sudden urge to ridicule Knicks and Lakers fans everywhere. No worries, though, because a cure is available. I offer it to you in the form of a breakdown of each position as seen through the eyes of the afflicted, offset then by a carefully measured dose of reality.

Point Guard

Irrational Exuberance

Rajon Rondo is lightning quick, super-crafty on the break and he thieves the ball like Scalabrine does a paycheck. He’s also been working relentlessly on his previously shaky jump shot all summer, which is terrific news because he’s basically being left all alone by panic-stricken defenders doubling up on Paul Pierce and Ray Allen. After Rondo, there is a seemingly endless list of capable backups, including Eddie House (formerly Steve Nash’s backup in Phoenix!), stud rookie Gabe Pruitt and the Allens (Ray and Tony).

Even Doc Rivers appears unfazed by a reported lack of depth at the position. On Celtics Media Day, he dismissed the fretting reporters, confidently stating: “I’ve never run a traditional point guard offense so that’s why I’m not as concerned by if we have a pure point guard or not…I think a lot of guys will handle the ball for our basketball team.” In these modern times, the need for a skilled offensive distributor has clearly become an antiquated notion, much like the two-handed set shot and team defense.

Reality Check

Color me a little concerned about the excessive reliance on Rondo. Fine, it’s not an original thought as far as concerns go, yet it remains a legitimate concern nonetheless. So is the utter lack of depth at the position. If either Rondo or House goes down to injury, the rotation will go to hell in a hand basket quicker than Kevin McHale can dismantle a playoff team. The issue I have with the Rondo plan is that he’s essentially been asked to move away from his primary strengths (quickness, aggressiveness and weaving the ball through transition) in favor of a game plan that exposes his weaknesses (poor shooting and turning the ball over in a half court set). It’s certainly possible that Rondo will succeed in the long term, especially given his high talent and commendable attitude. However, his success shouldn’t simply be assumed. After all, his mountain is steeper to climb than that of anyone else in a Celtics uniform this season.

Shooting Guard

Irrational Exuberance

Did you see that Toronto game? Dude is a dragon slayer. Even better, he’s coming off a career best year in terms of scoring average. He accomplished this feat in Seattle despite having a supporting cast of Rashard Lewis and his merry band of Guys Who Can’t Play Basketball Very Well. Now that she’s surrounded by actual high end talent, Ray Allen is going to lay waste to opponents, dropping 30+ on a nightly basis. Then, when he takes a well deserved rest, he’ll be relieved by his namesake, Tony Allen. Thankfully, TA will soon be healthy and revert back to that guy who dominated for at least TEN GAMES prior to his ACL injury last season.

Reality Check

Alright, everyone recite after me: Our stating shooting guard is 32 years old and coming off ankle surgery. Otherwise, there is no reason to worry about what Ray Allen brings to the table. Cross your fingers and hope for Ray’s sustained health. As for Tony Allen, it remains mixed bag. He has good days and bad days, good moments and bad ones. When (if?) he’s expected to regain full form is a true unknown. Although Allen’s brief emergence last season was an eye-opener, his lackluster play prior to that revealed just how ineffective he can be when he lacks explosiveness and a full degree of confidence in his body.

Small Forward

Irrational Exuberance

Up until this season, Paul Pierce’s best wingmen on offense were a succession of players most famous either for their inappropriate wiggling, atrocious shot selection, shooting at their own basket or being more fragile than a piece of wet Kleenex. As a result, opposing defenses were able to throw everything but the kitchen sink at Pierce, especially down the stretch of close games. No longer. With Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen alongside him, Pierce will be able to operate like an artist on a canvas against single coverage. Defending swingmen will openly bicker with teammates about the lack of help until James Posey relieves Pierce and subsequently shuts down the opposing offense almost single-handedly with his glue-guy presence and gritty effort. As for the age factor, Pierce will be able to remain fresh during the season by sitting out the fourth quarters on those frequent occasions when the game is put out of reach in the first half.

Reality Check

Pierce should certainly flourish on offense against less defensive pressure, especially if and when the core players develop an on-court chemistry. Of course, the possibility always exists that a true chemistry does not develop by the time the playoffs begin, or that the diminishing of individual glory doesn’t sit as well with the stars as initially anticipated. Then there is the concern about minutes. The hope is that Rivers will limit Pierce’s playing time in order to keep him fresh for the eighty-two game marathon and beyond, especially after the historically durable captain succumbed to his first serious mid-season injury last year.

Power Forward

Irrational Exuberance

Kevin Garnett is a flat-out one man wrecking crew. He beats his opponents by scoring, rebounding, providing lock-down defense and just out-hustling everyone else around him. Now that he’s surrounded with some real players, Garnett will drag this team to victory by his sheer will on a regular basis. Remember when Larry Bird joined the Celtics as a 23-year-old rookie and improved the team win total from 29 to 61? Expect that same kind of impact.

Reality Check

Actually, everything said about the Big Ticket above is absolutely true. In fact, the very fate of the Celtics season is tied most directly to his health and level of play. If he goes down to injury, the Celtics will go from a very dangerous team to a very average one. Losing Pierce or Ray Allen would certainly hurt, but losing Garnett would be the singular knock-out blow to anything special that this team would hope to achieve this season. He’s that important.

Center

Irrational Exuberance

Kendrick Perkins is ready at last for his long-awaited breakout season. After suffering last year through severe plantar fasciitis and Al Jefferson’s “Make Way for Lay-ups” defense, Perkins is finally free to develop into the second coming of Ben Wallace. Backing him up is Scot Pollard, a seasoned veteran role player who knows how to bang and how to help his team pull out wins. Although both have a tendency to get into foul trouble, that risk will be offset by opposing centers regularly being carted off the floor on stretchers after being abused by this physical big man tandem.

Reality Check

Perkins is who is he is. He’ll likely never have a deft scoring touch and his nose for the ball is not as strong as one would hope for a man of his size and determination. Thankfully, the Celtics have no need whatsoever for Perkins to score and he has an open willingness to do all the dirty work (who makes more of a sincere effort to set picks?) necessary to win games. Pollard adds a complimentary set of skills as a strong rebounder and a high energy player. Then again, it’s difficult to gage how much the 32 year old big man has left in the tank, especially considering his ankle woes that have plagued him since the beginning of camp.

There. Feel better? If symptoms persist, kick back and enjoy the season anyway. And remember to keep those Knicks and Lakers fans on speed dial.