There's nothing like the playoffs.Finally, that 7 game Bulls/ Celtics series is over, and I'm drenched with sweat. I never want to gamble again. And I definitely never want to bet on a game I care about. My heart can't take it.
I'm not a man of great means, but I manage to make the time for things that matter to me. Such things, as one might imagine, as comicbooks and playoff games. Real fans go to playoff games. I'm sorry, but if you enjoy one of the major American sports like baseball or basketball, you make a point to go to games. After a few years, though, memories regular season games blend together into larger, amorphous impressions of the specific season and era of the team. This is probably a factor of thousands of hours spent watching Sportscenter, and millions of printed words read covering daily gamers, (not to mention talk radio, or... dare I say... blogs). The memories are just hard to hold onto.
Not so with playoff games.
I can rattle off the specifics of every playoff game I've been to in my life. As a beer vendor, I bore witness to the 2003-04 Patriots beating the co-League MVPs in consecutive weeks; first outlasting Steve McNair and the Titans in a game played with a windchill of -10°, then the next week seeing Ty Law absolutely decimate Peyton Manning while securing a Super Bowl berth. That AFC Championship was probably the most significant sporting event I've ever attended, for a couple reasons. One- it was the first, biggest ballgame at the House that Drew Bledsoe Built, Gillette Stadium. New England will never host a Super Bowl, not until some mad scientist invents an effective weather control device, so while I can imagine Gillette hosting other AFC Championship, there won't be another first one. And Ty Law won't pick off Peyton Manning three times.
There was a weirder reason this back-to-back week of games was significant, too. At the Titans game I worked the lower level, right at the 50 yard line, (which was incredible and I totally don't mean to gloat). It was remarkable that people were still drinking at this game. I mean, scientifically speaking alcohol lowers your body temperature, but realistically speaking there's no way anyone can stand sitting outside in subzero temperatures on a January night in Foxborogh unless they're drunk. Anyway I'm in this prime serving area getting people wasted while watching at the snaps, and I go back to the service bar to reload my tray. I'm on my way back when a tall guy with a goatee asks me for a drink. I'd been told pretty sternly to ID everyone I served, and being the son of a bartender, wasn't one to shirk the duty, except I knew this guy. I looked up, and it's Tim Wakefield.
Which would have been the coolest moment in my life, except for one thing-
It was January 11th, 2004. The last time I'd seen Wake was October 16th, 2003. No one blamed Tim Wakefield for being on the losing end of that Game 7 of the Red Sox/ Yankees ALCS. In fact, he had a pretty good chance of being named Series MVP if they won that game. He shouldn't have been in the game until Mariano Rivera was out, but then again, Grady Little was not necessarily blessed with a well-timed hook. Nevertheless, the last time I'd seen Tim Wakefield was at the climactic moment of the greatest heartbreak of my young life, and there he was buying a beer from me at the very next playoff game in the New England area, just taking it in as a fan, and enjoying the Boston sports scene. Tim Wakefield is the fucking man.
Earlier that October I'd gone to my first ever Red Sox playoff game. It was Game 4 of the 2003 ALDS against the Oakland A's, and the Red Sox didn't stand a chance. They didn't stand a chance all series, incidentally, after having gone down 0-2 in the best of 5 series. As would become customary in the coming years, the Sox would battle back with the hearts of champions. They won Game 3 with a dramatic Trot Nixon home run, and if they could take Game 4, they'd have Pedro Martinez ready for Game 5. But now it was Tim Hudson, who would place 4th in Cy Young voting that year, (just one place behind Pedro) squaring off against the 12-9 5.15 ERA soon-to-be professional bowler John Burkett. Again, the Sox didn't stand a chance.
Or they shouldn't have. Weird word had gotten out that day. There were rumors that Hudson had gotten into a bar fight the night before. He might have bashed a guy with his guitar like El Kabong. Either way he was out of the game after an inning, and it was on John Burkett to nip and tuck that whole game, going 5 1/3 without, as I can remember, a single swinging strike. I can't remember if that was even true, but it sure felt that way, 'cuz that guy pitched the game of his life. I mean, he still gave up 4 runs, but it was the game of his life.
Wakefield came in and mopped up for a few innings, (of course) and David Ortiz had his first signature playoff hit with a huge double off Keith Foulke in the 8th. They won the game, and looked like favorites going against the Yankees in the ALCS. That didn't happen, but I still hold to this day that it was coming back from that 0-2 deficit to that A's team that gave that team the gumption it needed to pull back from the 0-3 hole they'd dig themselves in the 2004 ALCS. So to me, even though it was just a game where a couple junkballers tried to keep it tight, it is just about the most important Sox game I'd been to in my life.
Or it was. Last year I went to Game 4 of the ALDS against the Angels, and Jed Lowrie drove in Jason Bay in the 9th inning to close out the series. Jon Lester was awesome, and it was probably the most exciting baseball game I've been to in my life.
I've been to countless games, but it is the ones with tangible consequences that really illicit the starkest memories. Last year, I basically moved back to Boston just in time to see the new-look Boston Celtics come together. I was living in Brooklyn when the monumental trades were made, and I remember going from just confused by the Ray Allen trade, to indescribably elated at the Kevin Garnett trade. I tried to explain it to my non-basketball loving friends; it was like going to bed with one team, and waking up with a completely different one. Everything about them was different, from the style of play to their League- relevance, to their viability as a champion. I didn't want to move back when I did, but knowing that I was going to be able to watch this unprecedented season was an acceptable silver lining. The New Big Three didn't disappoint, delivering the most dominant regular season I'd ever watched in total. They made me see basketball differently. I went to a couple games, and eagerly awaited the playoffs.
I wanted to be smart. I wouldn't blow my load on the first round matchup against the feeble Hawks. No, I'd wait for the prospect of seeing my beloved Celtics take on the most electrifying athlete of my generation in LeBron James. THAT would be a worthy thing to pay for, I was sure.
The Celtics famously struggled in that first round, but despite the series going 7 games, there was never any doubt to who was the better team. They advanced, and awaited the Cavaliers.
I got tickets to Game 1 of the series. It was the most intense game of my life. I love all the sports I love, but basketball gets my blood pressure up in a different way. It's just so high adrenaline. It is also a sport that can be officiated somewhat subjectively, which is not necessarily healthy for someone who argues as vociferously as I.
It was the ugliest games I watched in my entire life. But it was a win.
LeBron had my favorite double-double of all time with 12 points and 10 turnovers. Paul Pierce and Ray Allen combined for 4 points. In fact, Ray finished scoreless! It was like a Bizarro- playoff game. The only guy who played like a superstar was the Big Ticket himself, who scored 28. The game ended 76-72, but the only number that mattered, trite though it might have been, was the Celtics' 1-0 lead.
The Celtics went on to become champions. I didn't get to any more games, because as I said, I am not a man of great means, and as soon as the Celtics beat the Cavaliers in a Game 7 showdown classic between Paul Pierce and LeBron James the Celtics became the hottest ticket in town. I didn't have any regrets, but I did feel a little cheated, in that I think I ended up at the only game of the entire postseason that didn't have 1 highlight for the end-of-season reel.
This season, I was determined to not make the same mistake. As the season drew to a close, I held off on even going to a few games, thinking myself wise and prudent in my waiting for the playoffs. Kevin Garnett would be back by playoff time, and there were sure to be more than enough games to catch then. Two nights before the season ended, I made my decision to buy tickets to Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals, the second round. This, I assumed, is when the playoffs would really start.
The morning after I bought my tickets, the news came out. Kevin Garnett would be out for the playoffs in their entirety. It was like someone punched me in the stomach, stood me up, punched me in the balls, then took my wallet, and then slept with my girlfriend. It sucked.
It sucked for all the obvious reasons. It sucked because it was evident that we would not have an honest shot at defending our title, first against the Cavaliers, then against the Lakers. It robbed us of our opportunity to get in the way of the LeBron/ Kobe 2009 Finals that have seemed so inevitable to everyone who was sleeping on the Celtics. It sucked because you knew there were only so many years for this team to play together, and all the sudden this year wouldn't be one of them. It sucked because the team had worked so hard to keep the ship afloat in KG's absence, and it seemed almost unfair to ask them to continue to shoulder both the load and the expectations without their true superstar, and defensive tone-setter. And it fucking sucked because, dude, I had already paid for the tickets!
Buying tickets that early, you're not really buying tickets. Regular box-office tickets don't go on sale until the team officially qualifies, and the game is scheduled. But if you're too anxious to wait, you can use online auction services to buy seats from season-ticket holders who are guaranteed their tickets. Sure, you pay at a markup, but it's worth it to assure yourself of the seat.
Well when KG was out, the second round didn't seem like such a sure thing. In fact, it seemed like a goal. Not for the team themselves, of course, but for me. Just make it the one round, don't make me look like an asshole! I felt guilty just feeling the way I did. And that was before the series even started.
Then it went on to be the greatest playoff series anyone can remember. It didn't win a championship, although it did star a team with championship heart and pedigree. It truly was a phenomenal series, not only for the longevity of it and the unprecedented overtimes, but for the remarkable shots that were hit. Ben Gordon got as hot as anyone's ever seen anyone. Derrick Rose hit leaner after leaner in traffic. Kirk Hinrich hit tough, deep threes. Rondo hit some jumpers, and damn near averaged a triple double on creaky ankles. Paul Pierce, who struggled uncharacteristically from the line, won a game all by himself, working himself to his spot and sinking make after make. Glen Davis showed himself to be a legitimate big in the NBA, mixing in-traffic layups with a nice, consistent midrange game. Kendrick Perkins was a beast, and again, no one seemed to notice. Where Ben Gordon got hot as a pure shooter, Ray Allen elevated his game and showed the difference between a hot shooter and a great one. After a tough Game 1, Ray was unstoppable. He showed the world what willed greatness looked like. It was an unforgettable series.
And it damn near killed me.
I felt like I was in the same boat as Danny Ainge. I had the biggest vested interest a fan could have in a series without owning it like Mark Cuban, or having your house put up as collateral on a bet. All I wanted was for the series to end, and it had to be the longest, most grueling, up and down series there ever was.
By the time we got to Game 7, I was spent. After sinking money into those seats, I'd effectively gambled on the games. I didn't stand to win anything, really, or at least anything I hadn't already bought. But I did stand to lose. It was an impossible situation. In the end, going into that last game, I just prayed that the team be champions for one more night. One more display of greatness, and I'd be content. Of course, this had to echo what they were feeling going into that game. Not the 'being content' part, of course, but it was evident through the way they played that they were not going out like punks under any circumstances. They played the Bulls long enough, and hard enough, and eventually those impossible shots Ben Gordon and Derrick Rose kept hitting started rimming out, and the better team prevailed.
Now I get my Round 2 game. The team is limping, of course, with Rajon nursing maybe both his ankles, Pierce barely able to jump off the ground, KG looking dapper in suits, and Leon Powe's career in jeopardy after another major knee issue. The Magic are coming to town fresh off a few days rest, hoping to legitimize themselves as title contenders against what's left of the champs. I think the series will be pretty easy to predict- if the Magic can shoot over 43% on threes for the series, they'll at least take it 7 games, if not take the series. They are not the same kind of threat as the Bulls, because they are not the same fast-break team, and they don't have the athleticism to wear down the Celtics like Chicago did. Perkins should make for a good matchup against Dwight Howard, provided they get called evenly on fouls. Turkoglu and Pierce have had some good matchups, and while the Celtics don't have an answer for Rashard Lewis, the Magic don't have an answer for Ray Allen.
I get to go and see it, and be a part of the experience myself. I can't be any more honest in saying, it's all I ever wanted.
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