I'm concerned for the Boston Celtics as they go into their first-round win-or-bury-your-head-in-the-sand-game. Kevin "The Big Ticket" Garnett, who is getting mugged, sandwiched and hammered in this shot, is my favorite N.B.A. player since the league lost Larry Bird back in the 90s. (Joe Dumars is in the top three, though. It's tough to deny Magic unless you don't like showpeopleship. Which brings me to Chris Paul. Is there anyone in the world who doesn't want to play for Chris Paul? Steve Nash? And yes, I'm pretending Michael Jordan because 1) everyone knows 2) if I were on his team, I would have just stood there and watched him, or just gave him the ball and said, "hell, you do it," which would have made me fat and out-of-shape, thus ruining my career. And possibly sending me into a nuthouse later, haunted by the statement and question, "You played with Michael Jordan! Wow, what did you think of him?")
Recently I found a paragraph I clipped out about Larry Bird in one of my old scrapbooks. It was written around the time that Larry's feet were failing him. Without knowing the exact lead of the column, I can guess with confidence that Bird was making fun of himself for having bad feet and how he was never any good anyway. (And ironically enough, the same foot injuries--severe plantar fascitis and bone spurs--that ended Bird's career ended mine, too.) I cut out the paragraph below it, which is a pithy about what it takes to be and remain a champion on the court or in anything you do. And after reading it, I taped it on my wall, part of me wishing I'd played with this amount of confidence, with the nuts to walk on the court and look around ala Larry and say "which one of you a------- is coming in second?"
If Larry can't get Kevin on his cell, I hope KG hears these words as he sleeps tonight:
Larry always talked that way. He liked to have a little fun, sure, but he always stuck that chest out because he believed he ought to be good because he had put in the hours, had taken the hundreds and thousands of jumpshots and had stayed in the gym long after everyone else had gone home. Don't ever think Larry didn't honestly believe he was good. -- Bob Ryan
