It was ugly. It was excruciating. It was dental surgery without anesthesia. It was like watching a man bleed to death. The Celtics and Pistons set basketball back 50 years tonight with a miserable game, riddled with turnovers, questionable decisions, and shooting percentages low enough to make a brave man weep. But when it was all said and done, the Celtics escaped with the 66-64 win (if you can even call it that).

Jerry Stackhouse's 3-pointer at the buzzer was (correctly) ruled to be too late. Paul Pierce said "we escaped by the hairs on our chinny-chin-chins". Mark, who sits in front of me at the games, muttered "I'd better go to church on Sunday" on the way out. Coach O'Brien said, "It's not a dance theater...I'll take them any way I can get them".

Now let's never speak of this game again.

"These guys look great!", yelled the devil on my right shoulder Monday night.

"It's only early May. They've started off like this before," said the angel on my left.

"20-7? They've never started like this before!" said the devil.

"Almost all of their games have been against Baltimore, Kansas City, and Tampa Bay," pointed out the angel. "Their real season starts Tuesday in Oakland."

The angel continued Tuesday night. "You know their season depends on Pedro. He had a rough game tonight. Don't count on him blowing everyone away."

The devil snorted. "Look at the rest of the rotation! Burkett's fine, Lowe is better than anyone could have bargained for, and Oliver looks good too," he countered. He added, "And even if Pedro did struggle tonight, they got the W."

Last night, the devil was on fire. "12-6!" he yelled. "Everyone's hitting! What's more, everyone's hitting in the clutch! Manny's on fire! Shea's on fire! Johnny Damon's the leadoff hitter they've been looking for for approximately 175 years!" The angel, somewhat subdued, just sniffed and reminded me to check the calendar.

The angel was in my face all this morning. "No way they sweep Oakland," he muttered, reeking a little bit of gin and a bad night's sleep. "And the Yankees will win tonight and the lead will shrink a bit."

After today's game, the devil was ecstatic. "When Jose Freaking Offerman's chipping in, you know I'm right!" he yelled. "Embrace the dark side. Believe that this will be the year!"

The angel was gone. On my left shoulder was an empty bottle and a note that said only "I'll be back in August."

Another baseball blog is checking in on the NBA! The Fat Guy serves up some notes on the Mavs-Kings series from a Dallas point of view. Just for the record, I think it's a damn shame that these two young, exciting teams have to play one another in the second round, while the Lakers get to whale on the hapless Spurs (here's to you, Mrs. Robinson!) again. On the flip side, I irrationally think the Celtics will have a better chance against L.A. in the Finals than against either Dallas or Sacramento, who killed the C's 4 times in the regular season.

So I've been away for a few days (buying trip in Manhattan...man, that sounds sophisticated) and the Red Sox have done just fine without me. Bill Simmons of ESPN wrote a hilarious account of last night's Sox-Rays game; I got to listen to it on Radio Free Hartford driving home, and remembered why Joe Castiglione and Jerry Trupiano are two of the most aggravating announcers in the business. Not to say that these two go off on frequent irrelevant digressions, but when you just want to know the score, you don't want to hear about Stephen King's trip to Tropicana Field or what Civil War battlegrounds are within a day's drive of Baltimore (which my Dad heard last week). But justice prevailed, and the Sox swept Tampa back into the primordial ooze they came from.

What I didn't hear about (thanks, Joe and Jerry) is that on Saturday, Trot Nixon let go of the bat after Tampa had plunked a couple of Red Sox hitters, and Frank Castillo got his own revenge by plunking some Devil Ray in the hip (I could look up who it was, but I don't care and I suspect you don't either). So Nixon and Castillo got suspended (it's under appeal) and that's just ridiculous. If Trot threw the bat intentionally (and he hinted he did), that might be worth a couple games, but Castillo? That's just ridiculous. Tampa Bay pitcher Ryan Rupe intentionally threw at Nomar and Hillenbrand because they had hit home runs the previous two nights. Give me a break.

In news from second place, the Yankees hit a three-game losing streak before beating the same hapless Devil Rays. In a story that's about as shocking as the high tide report, the Post is reporting that Steinbrenner is ready to make a panic trade for Florida's Cliff Floyd or Detroit's Bobby Higginson. Why "dance with the ones that brung ya" when you can easily afford a new huge salary? I'm just shocked and delighted that Vlad Guerrero's name hasn't come up yet.