Now my biases will really spread to
the surface. There has been no team more exciting to watch than the Boston
Celtics in these playoffs, and no series more adrenalized than the Eastern
Semi-Finals, which the Celtics took from the Philadelphia 76ers last night in
Game 7. But let us not kid ourselves: it was always theirs for the taking. A
hard-fought, panting battle with a team sure to implant themselves in the
playoffs for years to come, it was Age & Experience vs. Youth &
Excitement; but, in the end, it was a cherished victory written in green.
Not only was the game streaming to
me live online, but so was the suffocating fatigue of the Celtics. I could
smell the old. But in the face of it, it’s the old, the experience, the cohesion
that has kept this team pummeling through the post-season. I’ve got love for
the 76ers, but this is not a changing of the guards. This is a lasting blast of
grit in the eye of competition. KG was looking tired, almost dropping and
sinking through the earth, bringing planks of TD Garden hardwood with him. Ray
Allen’s ankles were smoldering, keeping him gated. With about five minutes left
in the game Paul Pierce fouled out in a play that could’ve fully switched
momentum towards the 76ers, but, as he begrudgingly took a seat on the bench,
it was Rajon Rondo, the real star, who put Gang Green on his back.
When the 76ers backed off him to
clog the paint, Rondo held on to the ball and put two clean three-pointers in
the hoop with the shot clock running down. He saw the KG screens setting Allen
free and set him up for two three-pointers, causing a rumbling sigh of relief
to blanket the city. Allen had been cold the whole series, battling injury and
regaining his starting status only because Avery Bradley went down with a
busted shoulder. Rondo was the magic man, the deliverer, the gift-giver, the
shaman. He injects his team with an energy serum when they need it most. Oh and
by the way, last night he fell into a category previously occupied by only
Larry Bird: Celtics players with triple-doubles in Game 7. History reforms.
Now we get what we’ve wanted this
whole time: The Miami Heat. In just about every game during the season, the
Celtics ran through the Heat like hot sauce and ice cream runs through your
grandfather. The Heat have a Bosh-sized hole they’ve been trying to cram with wads
of Turiafs and Anthonys and I don’t see it working. I’ll take your two
superstars and raise you another two. Let’s battle.
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