SQ1 65 Days to Camp, Lots of Time to Think

So lets not waste that noodling time, or at least not all of it, with such trivial pursuits as pre-season football, whining about the heat, or bemoaning the lack of the demise of war, bigotry, disease, and poverty. Let's talk basketball, even better let's talk Celtics' basketball. Unfortunately (or maybe not!--in grad school I was expressing some opinions and was informed, "oh that's existentialism," sadly I felt rather cheated when after reading some Frankl I realized he had delved far deeper and explained it far better than I) a lot of the thunder of this opening piece of Summer Quandaries was stolen (or perhaps just stated better) by Ian Thomsen so I ask of you readers this task: go read his excellent piece and come back to me and I will try to add some salient adjuncts and a bit of analysis.

During this summer dead-time I often find myself reflecting on the Celtics of old. One of the things old age offers, in partial compensation for your failing physical abilities, is a bit of perspective that permits you to see the new waves of innovations and ideas in a context that levels the highs and lows a bit. One of the joys of my life was that basketball became a consuming passion for six decades rather than a passing interest of my youth. I never made a school team at any level and yet played for 40 years, coached teams of kids, teenagers, young adults and old adults, and now still find myself exchanging ideas (and barbs) with like-minded souls even though my beard is white and I occasionally resort to a cane to ease the pain in the hip that I'm sure I left on the courts of Gregory Annex. I often said, before the A/C was installed, that you could pick out those who were committed to basketball by who showed up in the summer when every step down court generated a small squirt as the sneakers filled with water offered a small physics lesson in hydraulic pressure as the foot-strike lessened the available volume and liquid demonstrated its resistance to compression.

Which brings me back to the Red Auerbach Celtics and playing the game the “Right Way!” Whether “passing” up an open shot for an even more open shot, calling out a pick, boxing out a rebounder, or helping off your defensive assignment, playing the right way brings a sense of camaraderie—that was true on the 50's and 60's Celtics, in the summer sauna of Gregory, during ubuntu, and is again regaining a foothold in Waltham and on the parquet. You just don't find these Stevens/Ainge Celtics' players poring over a stat sheet after a loss and proclaiming that “we didn't win but I did pretty good!” One of the big turn-offs for us old farts is the modern athlete so self-absorbed that his team, coach, and teammates are all viewed as stage lights to illuminate his own greatness. While they lost their way in the late 1990's and the start of the 2000's, the Celtics have maintained that sense of TEAM over ME for the vast majority of the past 65 years. How could one not be impressed? How could one not have sought to follow the path of The Way—as a gym rat, as a coach, as a parent, and as an individual? And if you have a ready answer, then we probably don't have the common ground upon which to communicate meaningfully, perhaps we should just agree to disagree.

The Championship formula in the modern NBA is all the rage these days—1 MVP-quality player with at least 1, and preferably 2, All-Star-quality sidekicks, along with suitable “role” players. The blogosphere is full of Chicken Littles carrying torches looking for Danny Ainge's office, and most of them want to hang him for not pulling another Garnett/Allen summer out of the magician's hat. Uh, doesn't that require available players and a coerceable trade partner? I took a look at the All-Star and All-NBA rosters and more than half of them would be candidates for my All-Malcontent team (one of my more enjoyable mental exercises, along with a team of Should-Have-Been Celtics [an exercise which has had some strange twists as charter members like Bill Walton and Kevin Garnett actually became Celtics]). For those that clamor for the acquisition of Carmelo or Boogie, be careful of what you wish for! Can you imagine the effects of these puffed-up MEgos on the chemistry of Stevens' Celtics and the development of these kids, almost all of whom are under 25. (A confession—if Brad and Danny interviewed Cousins and felt he was maturing and his behavior problems were more a product of immaturity and frustration with losing and a poorly run franchise, than an actual character deficit—then I'm good with their assessment of the risk/reward gamble.) Part of my comfort level is with the object lessons still reverberating around Waltham from the banishment of Bogans—I still get a small satisfied smile when I think of my new favorite verb, Bogans-ed.

Let's remember that Ainge/Stevens put the C's back into the playoffs in just the second year of rebuild. Let's keep in mind that the Garnett/Allen legerdemain came four years into Danny's first rebuild. Let's rejoice in Stevens having the entire squad playing hard and the right way (if fact my leading candidates for departure during camp are those that don't practice hard, learn well, and hone their professionalism.) If you are like me you find this team interesting and exciting to watch and a refreshing change from the last couple of years of the New (and Aging) Big Three where watching the team play felt like a faltering yacht with an inadequate center keel/board trying to sail upwind. For those of you frustrated with the lack of a deterministic plan, that is kind of the whole point—Ainge is poised to go about 50 different directions when the opportunity arises, the key being an opportunity actual arising! If you just want the duck-boat parade and inebriated bragging at your local watering hole, my condolences to you—I get it, I just don't agree. This is the good stuff. Watching it being made is, to me, at least as absorbing as watching greatness in action. Much as I loved watching the ball zip around the floor in 2008, that pinball delight was preceded by a fascinating series of moves that was almost as impressive as the finished product. Great basketball is an orchestra not a drum or guitar solo.

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