"All the Negativity in This Town Sucks"

I just went back and reread what I wrote a couple hours ago, and I feel I have to include an addendum. At the beginning of this season, we were still reeling from 7 years of chronic ML/Pitino mismanagement, and we would have been happy just to know the Celtics would make it to the postseason. The thought that they could knock out Philly and bury Detroit would have been unimaginable.

My emotions have been in a blender this series. I go from despair to exuberation to wanting to run on the court and perform a citizen's arrest on Tony Delk for impersonating an NBA scorer. And in all this, I've forgotten that even the thought of playing past Memorial Day was beyond us back around Halloween.

So if it is the Celtics' fate to lose at home tomorrow, I have to keep sight of the fact that they surpassed even our wildest expectations. And I, for one, will give them a long, appreciative round of applause for giving us more happy memories in one season than we've had since '95. But I'll cheer even louder if it means sending them off to the swamp to finish the Nets off.

Come on, Celts. Dig in one last time.

Here Comes Game 6

Game 6 starts at 7 tomorrow, and you'll know by 7:20 what the end result of the series will be. If the Celtics play smart and come out at the Nets hard, they win Game 6 and put New Jersey on the ropes (where they haven't been all series). If they drop another stinkbomb in the 1st quarter and have to claw back from another 13-point deficit, forget it.

It's all up to them. And that's all I have to say about that.

Bud's Nightmare

From the "Why Didn't I Think Of That?" files. Scott at thefatguy.com has brought to my attention a plan to get the All-Star teams loaded with Twins and Expos. What a great scheme. Who wouldn't love to see Bud Selig, in his home park, have to meet'n'greet all the guys from the teams he tried to kill this winter? And since the ASG is ostensibly for the fans, there's no danger of ruining any of the sacred traditions of baseball. We'll leave that up to the owners and players.

Anyway, the lineups for the Expos and Twins (since you haven't seen them on ESPN lately) can be found at baseballvote.com and you do the actual voting here. Side effect: since MLB rules require that every team be represented, that means Joe Torre won't be able to clog his roster with Yankee backups like last year. If nothing else, do it for this reason!

Game 4

Unfortunately, part of making bold statements is being able to admit when you were wrong. Case in point tonight. On further review, the Nets did show incredible resiliance and confidence tonight and tied up the series. On a night when they all should have been wearing dog collars, they played harder, smarter, and more energetic than the Celtics. That's all there is to it.

The game started off (yes, I was there for tipoff this time, thanks) much like Game 3 -- the Nets were hitting 3's and holding court on defense. The Celtics were stagnant on offense and not scoring, except for Paul and Antoine. The second half also looked like Game 3 -- the Celtics were playing good defense, getting the crowd fired up, hitting key shots, and tied it with a minute or so to go. And now most (including me) were ready to call Doctor Heimlich and have him on standby behind Jersey's bench.

But then events deviated from the Game 3 pattern. Jason Kidd got the benefit of some, shall we say, questionable charging calls. A Net (Lucious Harris) actually hit clutch free throws and a Celtic (Paul Pierce) didn't. I guess the Nets really did come to play. And now it's a 3 game series. And now Jersey has home-court advantage back. And now I think if the C's don't win Wednesday, we're in trouble.

Cut down the Nets

I've had 24 hours now for my vocal chords and heartrate to recover from Game 3. The Celtics ripped the Nets' hearts out and served them back raw on a plate. But the NBA being what it is, they have to do it all over again tomorrow night.

Some short observations from the Jungle:

I raced over to the Fleet from work and got to North Station at 5:10 (the scheduled start time was 5:30). Unfortunately, they've instituted some new "security measures" (basically, all that means is a halfhearted wave of a metal-detector wand at your crotch) and that threw the whole turnstile area into turmoil. We all had to wait at the escalators for 10 minutes (thanks for the explanation, guys!) and even racing up the steps -- why do people treat escalators like "It's A Small World" at Disneyworld? There's nothing to see folks! Walk and ride! -- I still missed the first minute or so of action. Love it live, indeed. Arrrrrrgh.

The C's in the first half conjured up memories of the bleakest days of the Pitino era. No continuity on offense. No guys running around without the ball. No one getting underneath for offensive boards. With one exception. Antoine Walker. This kid's had some ups and downs, but the miracle comeback was only possible because Antoine singlehandedly kept the Celtics from imploding the first 36 minutes. And after the game, I saw news clips of a timeout where Antoine just ripped into his teammates, screaming at them to try harder and play smart. Well, it worked. We all owe ya, #8.

The crowd at the Jungle...just amazing. Again. Every time the Celtics made another chip in the lead, I thought "This place can't get any louder!" But it did. Over and over again. Then they showed Red, Cousy, and JoJo on the Jumbotron. Then they showed the Red Sox whooping it up in their luxury box (more on this in a second). Then they showed the clip from Braveheart that launches the Celtics' playoff theme song by Guns 'n Roses. And we all found it deep within ourselves to yell a little louder. What an experience.

Postgame: walking down the tunnels, exiting the building, walking out in the streets. Strangers were slapping high-fives, chanting "Beat LA", looking at each other with big goofy grins and shaking their heads. We all knew this team was remarkable...but this was beyond anything.

The Red Sox. God bless 'em. During timeouts, they kept showing Derek Lowe, Brian Daubach, and others (I couldn't make out too many faces) drinking Cokes (I think) in the luxury boxes and dancing. Cheering. You have to be in Boston this year to understand just how magical things are right now. We've seen Patriots -- Ty Law, Willie McGinest, Lawyer Milloy -- at Celtics games all this year. Bob Kraft was in the front row for the Philly series. Bill Belichick's going to be there tomorrow. Nomar was three rows in front of me at a Pacers game last season. Guys on all the local teams are pulling for each other. This is unprecedented. This is amazing. Compare that to the Finals, when you'll see local quasicelebrities like Damon and Affleck, Steve Tyler, and (gulp) Celtics owner Paul Gaston in crowd shots, and you'll hear something along the lines of "everyone in Boston has Celtics fever!" Well, yeah, but some of us didn't just get it last week. I was at the Miami game and the Atlanta game and the Golden State game this year. None of those people were.

But you know what? Who cares? Unless the Nets have incredible resiliance and confidence (hint: they don't), I'll be at a Finals game in two weeks. The Celtics and Lakers will be back in the Finals. Beside that, everything else looks just trivial.

A drama in three acts

ACT I: Roger Clemens is forced to leave the mound in the 4th inning after being hammered for 9 hits and 7 runs. The crowd roars.

Act II: The Yankees chip away at the lead and it goes into extra innings tied 8-8. The crowd chews its fingernails.

Act III: The plucky hometown nine pulls it out in the 11th with clutch hitting and fundamental play. The crowd goes home happy.

And the Lakers lose too. Good times all around.

What a long, strange trip it's been

The Sports Guy has an excellent column today chronicling the dismal Celtics of two years ago and the juggernaut they've become.

Meanwhile, I was bummed about the Bruins' losing a couple weeks ago. But I forgot all about my first hockey love. The Whalers. Still in exile in North Carolina, the Whale is one win away from the Stanley Cup finals. Even if it's not completely Boston's, the 2002 Grand Slam is still in play.

News from Queens

There's a tempest in baseball's teapot about the New York Post's not-quite-revelation that the Mets might be secretly harboring a gay ballplayer. In response, catcher Mike Piazza held a press conference to announce that it's not him. Well, super.

This re-raises the question of whether baseball could handle a coming-out party. Salon's King Kaufman says that there's a small minority still in baseball that would be horrified. But most of the players, and in fact most of the fans, have no illusions about the fact that there are undoubtedly dozens of gay players already, just waiting for the one who will make the first step out of the dugout, as it were. Phillies skipper Larry Bowa sums it up pretty well: "If [the first openly gay player] hits .340 it probably would be easier than if he hits .220." Two ballplayers came out in the '80s, but after their playing days were over, and neither one was a household name. If it were Piazza, a superstar (and I'm not trying to name names, but he did come up rather prominently in this discussion), it makes no sense for even the most reactionary Met to do anything to hurt his relationship with the team. And most people, honestly, really don't care. I wouldn't be too sure about those Cincinnati fans, though.

You may know that the walls have been breached in baseball when someone picks Frankie Goes to Hollywood as their walk-up music. Maybe the Twins will announce that the guys on their old logo aren't actual twins, but "longtime companions." Maybe, in fact, there's more to the Clemens-Piazza feud than we knew all along.

Anyway, what's the hullabaloo about? The Devil Rays have been out all year. 15 games out.

Welcome to the jungle, watch it bring you to your knees

I wasn't aware that the Fleet Center had developed a nickname, but apparently it's now known as "The Jungle". I like it. I believe it has a lot more to do with the Celtics' strangling defense than with the humidity, wildlife, or ability of Axl Rose to score some heroin, but the place needed a nickname. The Fleet sounds dumb - plus, they're a giant monopolistic local bank - so that's out. New Garden sounds a little too desperate. Yeah. The Jungle works just fine.

Celtics/Nets, Game 2

After the Celtics outslogged Detroit in Game 3, I thought the quality of play would pick up considerably. Oh man. Tonight's game was a contest to see who wanted the loss more. Paul Pierce was waaaaay off all night. The Nets starters (with the notable exception of Jason Kidd, who is as good as advertised) were nonexistent. Luckily, Antoine played a solid game, and Tony Battie played way over his head to get the W for the Celtics.

It's an ugly win, but I'll take that over an ugly loss any day. The important things are: 1) Paul Pierce, by definition, has to play better than he has the first 2 games, and 2) Homecourt advantage! The Nets haven't seen a hostile crowd all this postseason. They drew polite Midwesterners in Round 1, and absent Charlotteans(?) in Round 2. The New Garden will be loud, and motivated, and mean. I look forward to being part of it.

Lowe, Lowe, Lowe

Let's just bask for the moment in the warm fuzzy glow of Derek Lowe. If he doesn't win Comeback Player of the Year, the award's a joke. If he isn't on track to start the All-Star game, something's seriously wrong.

Two hits in eight innings. And the White Sox are a good hitting team. He hasn't given up a home run yet, which, if you watched him last year, is astounding. Opponents are hitting .158 against Derek. Once again.....158. And he's taking it all in stride. Witness this quote:

"It would be totally different if you saw somebody else doing it. You'd say, `That guy's having a pretty good year,' " Lowe said. "But it's me and I don't think about it. I'm just going out trying to win a game."

The Sox now have a 2 game lead over New York with 2 games remaining until their next 4-game showdown. And the Sox lead off with Pedro, Burkett, and Lowe. This could be a big weekend for the Fenway Nine.

It's like REM said. Low(e), Low(e), Low(e). I skipped the part about love.

Celtics/Nets, Game 1

Well, the Nets won Game 1, but it's OK. The Celts just plain played sloppy. Kenny Anderson looked like he forgot everything he learned this year, Antoine and Paul were off, and the defense and (especially) free-throw shooting was way off.

And give the Nets their due. Kidd was hitting everyone with passes and getting everyone involved in the offense. The Nets were hitting their free throws. They played as well as they're ever going to play, and the Celtics still stayed in the game.

I stick by my prediction. Celtics in 6.

Bud Selig says 6 to 8 teams are in danger of going out of business. The Player's Association says they're ready to go on strike before this season is up. The BunkoSquad Sports Department says someone needs to get kicked in the rear end, and soon. Here's the B.S.S.D. Q & A on the situation.

Q: How stupid are these people?

A: Good question. Maybe the owners and players have forgotten that after the '94/'95 strike, attendance and fan interest fell off the face of the earth and has arguably never recovered. Exciting moments like the McGwire/Sosa chase, the Ripken streak, and Beanie Baby days have helped, but a lot of folks learned they, in fact, could learn to live without baseball. This probably isn't the best time for baseball to test this.

Q: Which 6 to 8 teams does Team Bud have on the hypothetical hit list?

A: Well, certainly Montreal and Minnesota, for having the gall not to fade gently into that good night. You have to believe that the situation in Tampa Bay is unredeemable, the Angels and Marlins have ownership issues, and some cities (K.C., Oakland, Toronto) refuse to build new stadiums.

Q: Will building new stadiums be the shot in the arm those franchises need?

A: Well, Friday's Rangers-Tigers game at Comerica drew 19,000. 16,000 turned out Tuesday to see the World Champion Diamondbacks at the new park in Pittsburgh. And tonight's Astros' game in Houston against those same Pirates barely half-filled the new stadium. So....no.

Q: What do the owners want?

A: They won't use the words "salary cap", but don't let them kid you. Most of the teams were pretty good this winter about not throwing good money after mediocre free agents, but as long as the Yankees, Dodgers, Rangers, Red Sox, and Mets are playing with bigtime cash, the other teams are desperate just to keep their own stars. Note that you didn't see Cincinnati and Detroit active in the Jason Giambi bidding.

Q: What do the players want?

A: They don't want any changes to a system that lets the aforementioned teams throw money at them. Any time the Red Sox overpay Jose Offerman or the Rangers give Fort Worth to A-Rod, everyone in the majors moves up a rung on the salary-expectation ladder. Any talk of luxury taxes or revenue sharing means that much less chance of a free-agent bonanza.

Q: Sounds like you prefer the owners in this dispute. Aren't you normally a union guy?

A: Well, yeah...in the real world. But the MLB Players' Association isn't a real union. The days of the owners bleeding the players dry and using them up are long gone. The MLBPA now exists only as an organized thorn in the side of anyone actually trying to make progress. A real union would honor strikes and picket lines of umpires, beer distributors, or anyone else. Especially since they demanded that other unions honor their picket lines during the '95 replacement-players fiasco.

Q: How would you feel about it if the owners went with replacement players?

A: At this point, I think the comedy factor would override the desecration-to-the-game factor. Teams like the Devil Rays and Brewers are almost completely anonymous anyway, so what do they have to lose by starting over with no-names, if the Yankees and Braves have to do the same? And for the fans that are turned off by replacements, they sure aren't going to stand up for a long work stoppage, either.

Q: You love writing about this stuff instead of real games, don't you?

A: Kill me now. Please.

Q: So how much of this is bluster, or how close is the game to being shut down?

A: I think Bud's hit list is mostly a scare tactic. I think they think that, by threatening the loss of 6 teams and thus 150 jobs, the "union" will panic and fall into line immediately. But since the "union" is at its best when antagonizing, they will take Bud at face value, and threats of a strike will grow louder. If ownership does anything like a lockout, it will be next spring, and I think they're prepared to go longterm if that happens. I'd be curious to know how many of the actual players, as opposed to "union" spokespeople, really think pulling the plug late this season is a good idea. One possible move by the players is to boycott the All-Star Game, which is on Bud's home turf in Milwaukee (whose new stadium packed in 15,000 against the Reds on Tuesday) to show their resolve. Whatever.

Q: This is just depressing. Can we change the subject?

A: LET'S GO CELTICS!!!!! (clap clap clap-clap-clap)

With the Eastern Conference Finals looming, I thought it would be a good time for a little Nets Primer. Hopefully this will give you a reason to get fired up for this team that hasn't been worth hating for so many years.

Jason Kidd: I thought he was a pretty-boy when he came in the league, but he's scary good. Traded from Phoenix due to character issues (he got accused of domestic violence), he rejuvenated Jersey. He's a clutch shooter, a brilliant floor general, and a solid defender. If anyone can singlehandedly win games for the Nets, Kidd's the man.

Kenyon Martin: His nickname's K-Mart, and we all know how well they're doing. The #1 pick in the 2000 Draft, Martin has become a bona-fide NBA thug, racking up 7 games' worth of "DNP - NBA suspension" this season. He's mugged Karl Malone, Tracy McGrady, Jim Jackson and Shareef Abdur-Rahim to earn those suspensions; notably for this series, he also took a swing at Vitaly Potapenko. Oddly, Martin wasn't ejected but the Ukraine Train was. Should make for some interesting fireworks in this series.

Keith Van Horn: I realize North Jersey isn't Tan Central, but Van Horn is so white you can't tell where his socks end and his calves begin. I mean he's translucent. Not that there's anything wrong with that. He does seem pretty soft, though, and if he's guarding Antoine Walker for the bulk of this series, expect #8 to light it up until Byron Scott decides to double-team.

Kerry Kittles: This one's personal. In 1993, I was spending a day with my friend Hillary at Villanova. She was tutoring Kerry Kittles in math (pause for giggles) and we ran into him while walking across the campus. Kerry asked Hillary if she had a quarter to make a phone call; she didn't but I volunteered one. Now he's a millionaire athlete and I haven't seen my quarter yet. Interestingly, later in his college career, Kittles was implicated in a scandal where 'Nova players were using university credit cards to make long-distance phone calls.

Coach Byron Scott: My Dad watched a lot of Celts-Lakers games in the 80s and always said that Scott is the biggest front-runner he's ever seen. You know, the kind of guy who's on fire when his team's up by 15 but can't hit a clutch shot to save his life and disappears when the team's behind. Think Juwan Howard with a dash of Penny Hardaway. How that affects his coaching in crunchtime remains to be seen, but he was almost outcoached by Isiah Thomas in Round 1. Which, I think, says a lot.

The Owner: George Steinbrenner. 'Nuff said.

Nets Fans, and New Jersey In General: The state we love to hate. Jerseyites say that our impressions of the state are clouded by the fact that we only see the 70% of it covered by interstates and oil refineries. They may be right. But you have to hand it to fans who are going to lose some of their seats to all the N.Y. celebrities who have to be seen at a playoff game somewhere in the metro area. Fans who haven't risen up and demanded that the Jets and Giants admit where their stadium is actually located. Fans who've suffered through the Micheal Ray Richardson, Joe Barry Carroll, Derrick Coleman, Yinka Dare, and Kenyon Martin (Whoops! That's too early) eras.

They deserve better. In fact, for the last 15 minutes, I've been riveted by joenetsfan.com, whose copious game notes and opinion columns read like the diary of a man who's being let out of prison after 20 years. And being a real Nets fan these days must feel like that. Too bad it's only a 6-game furlough.

Yeah, that's me bowling on the front page of boston.com. (Not Yoda, you jokers -- farther down.). Look quick - I don't know how long it will be up there. Furthermore, Bill Simmons invokes the legend of Gino in his NBA Six-Pack. Life is good in Sportstown USA.

Update: It's not there anymore. But let it be known that my bowling prowess will one day put me on the covers of other major websites. For more than an hour or two.

Jose Canseco retired this week after a wild, wacky career. And now the debate begins: is Jose a Hall-of-Famer or not? Joe Morgan sums up some of the pros and cons. If I had a vote (which, amazingly, I don't) I'd say yes. Without a doubt. Some will look only at the numbers: he finished short of 500 home runs, his career tailed off dramatically after 1993 or so, he was a full-time DH for the second half of his career.

But, as I've said before, it's a Hall of Fame, not a Hall of Numbers. From 1987 to 1993, Canseco was one of the most talked-about players in the majors. He was the first 40-40 man, balancing insane power (remember, kids, 40 home runs was a big deal then) with speed and a general wow!-inspiring quality every time he took the field. He passes the grandkids test too: my yardstick for Hallworthiness is "Is this a guy you'd tell your grandkids you saw play?" Jose had some unfogettable moments: some good (that home run he hit at SkyDome in the '92 Playoffs left Canadian airspace somewhere over Baffin Island), some bad (remember when the Rangers let/made him pitch in a blowout and he hurt his arm?), and some just surreal. Name another Hall-of-Fame candidate who's ever had a ball bounce off his head for a home run. The point is, when Jose was in the game, you knew. And that's what the Hall of Fame should be about.

So it got me thinking. Which current players are headed for Cooperstown? There are some locks, there are some younger players who will be locks if they keep up their current pace, and some borderliners. Here's my list. (The Hall has a list of recently-retired players and when they will be eligible. I won't deal with them at this time.)

AL East: Rickey Henderson and Roger Clemens are mortal locks. Wouldn't it be perfect if Roger hucked a bat into the stands during his speech? Of the younger guys, Pedro, Nomar, Mariano Rivera, Jeter, and probably Manny Ramirez are certainly on the right road. I think they're all in, provided their careers don't completely fall apart. Mike Mussina has an outside chance, and Jason Giambi can certainly get there, particularly if he helps win a World Series or two. Most of the current Devil Rays won't even be allowed to buy a ticket to the Hall.

AL Central: No one really stands out. Frank Thomas has a case, but the fact he's played DH almost exclusively will keep him out, I think. Some of the more jingoistic Cleveland fans say Omar Vizquel is as good a shortstop as 2002 inshrinee Ozzie Smith, but Vizquel fails the grandkids test where Ozzie doesn't.

AL West: Pudge Rodriguez for sure. Ichiro and Troy Glaus bear watching, and Juan Gonzalez is an interesting idea, but falls short. The most interesting case involves Edgar Martinez. Sure, he's been a DH most of the time, but the man is a hitting machine. I'd vote for him just for consistently finishing in the Top 5 list of "guys you don't want to face in the 9th with the bases loaded".

NL East: Greg Maddux. Robbie Alomar. Tim Raines (still with Florida). All in. Piazza and Vlad Guerrero sure look like they're headed there. Chipper Jones and Scott Rolen have started down the path. Some question marks are Andres Galarraga (sorry, but I say no) and the other 2 jewels in the Atlanta pitching crown. It would be nice if Maddux, Smoltz, and Glavine could go in as an entry, but individually, I think only Maddux passes the grandkids test. Mo Vaughn had better start hitting homers in bunches.

NL Central: Automatic slots go to Sammy Sosa, Junior Griffey, and (I think) Jeff Bagwell. None of the young stars (JD Drew, Kerry Wood, Brian Giles) has yet taken that first major step towards Cooperstown. Bud Selig and the Brewers organization should be voted in specially for making money, while simultaneously contending every year and keeping fan interest high. Sorry! I forgot to turn my sarcasm filter on.

NL West: Barry Bonds, Randy Johnson, and Curt Schilling are in. Borderline candidates (all, frankly, longshots) include Jeff Kent, Luis Gonzalez, and Larry Walker. Kevin Brown is an interesting puzzle, but I think his general non-recognition factor keeps him out. Trevor Hoffman just might squeak in, now that Sports Illustrated has named him the best closer ever. (Guess they forgot to run that by Dennis Eckersley.)

So it's open for debate. Let me know if you think I slighted Fred McGriff, Kenny Lofton or Rich Garces (who I'd definitely cast a sympathy vote for). Or anyone else.

You thought Luis Gonzalez' gum was bad? Mariners reliever Jeff Nelson is selling bone chips from his elbow on eBay. I don't even have a joke here. The winner has to promise not to use the specimen for DNA-extraction or cloning purposes. See? There's something not-quite-right about those kooky Mariners.

5:20. So much for that. Seems the killjoys at eBay have some policy against selling body parts. Come on, guys. It's the Internet. Live a little.

The Final Four. The Eastern Championships. And they did it tonight with Pierce and Walker spending huge chunks of time in foul trouble. Williams stepped up. Kenny stepped up. Rogers, Delk, Battie - all contributed. Now we wait for Jersey to finish off Charlotte (or, I suppose, for Charlotte to pull off a miracle) and then -- Celts in 6. Bring on LA.

Problems with the site this weekend, so here's a quick update of what happened in Boston sports this weekend:

Red Sox: Lost 2 out of 3 to the Mariners. All in all, an 8-2 road trip is nothing to sneeze at. And losing 2 of 3 to Seattle is no great shame, since they swept the Yankees in the Bronx last week. My coworker (Swamp Rat) is convinced the Mariners are actually robots anyway, and it's not that farfetched. First of all, the idea of the Mariners getting on the bus after a game and plugging in to recharge is too cool to pass up. Secondly, Ichiro's a robot, for sure. Which explains why some people were so interested last year in what Ichiro's hiding under that uniform.

Of course it wouldn't be the Red Sox without some trauma. Manny Ramirez broke his finger on a head-first slide into home the other night, so of course everyone's looking for a scapegoat and anxiously saying rosaries. It will be hard to match the offense with Manny out, but the pitching's OK and Rickey Henderson finally gets his P.T.

Celts: Detroit's on the ropes, baby! The Celts erased Friday's woe with a solid pasting of the Pistons on Sunday. Now the Bad Boys (and they look like they're taking that literally) have one more chance to win at home before the Celts pound them in Game 6 (if necessary). A lot of the post-game 4 attention went to superduperstars Antoine Walker and Paul Pierce, but I have to give some major applause to Eric Williams. He didn't score, but played superb defense, good rebounding, and went flying after every loose ball. It's guys like E. that will leave the Nets scratching their heads and the Lakers (like the Rams) wondering how the hell this scrappy team from Massachusetts spoiled their coronation. Bank on it.

Major chill-up-the-spine points at the Fleet on Sunday when they did the now-traditional Roundup of Legends on the Jumbotron during the 3rd Quarter. Red, Russell, Max, Cousy, Loscy, JoJo, and Tommy were in the building. Major blood-pressure-boiling points to the evil Bill Laimbeer, who claimed with a straight face in a Sunday interview that he wasn't out to play dirty basketball in the 80s. You were just following orders, jawohl? At least the Fleet Center Jumbotron guy is on the ball, showing Larry and Parish beating up Laimbeer every chance they get.

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.

Game 5. All or nothing. Backs against the wall. Pick a cliche. The Celts delivered big-time tonight. A few observations:

Paul Pierce. I can't say enough about this guy. 46 points, 6 assists, a couple huge defensive plays -- he exerted his will on this game.

Antoine. A fantastic game, if overshadowed by PP. Some clutch 3's, a couple great tip-ins, a knack for running the offense. Awesome.

The rest of the team. Good job. Tony Delk played tough D on Iverson, Eric Williams buried a 3 every time the Sixers left him open, even Rodney Rogers contributed positively.

The 4th Quarter. Simply unbelievable. The Celts went up by 10, the Sixers called time out, and the guy in front of us shook his head and said "still 8 minutes to go." Approximately 45 seconds later, the C's were up by 30, Pierce, Walker, Lucky, and JoJo White were burying 3's, and Coach Brown was scraping off the bottom of the Sixers bench (Alvin Jones?!?). I've never been in a full arena singing "Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na, Hey Hey, Goodbye" before. The wait was worth it.

The FleetCenter. Loud and proud. It's still not the Garden (I've only seen one mouse scurrying around, for one thing), but the place was electric tonight. Bonus points to the Jumbotron genius who came up with the movie clips to play during timeouts. 2nd quarter: Interspersed with Celtics highlight, it's the scene from Rudy where the coach ends by yelling, "No one comes into our house and pushes us around!" Then in the 4th, with the game in the bag, interspersed with Paul Pierce highlights, out comes the scene from A Few Good Men. "You want answers?" "I want the truth." "You can't handle The Truth!" Chills up and down and all over my spine.

Bob Kraft. The Patriots' owner was sitting in the front row. Celts' owner Paul Gaston was not visible from Section 308.

The Sixers. A valiant effort by Iverson, but the strain of carrying the entire team wore him down in the end. Mutombo is almost worthless (more on him in a second), Snow was nowhere to be found, and Derrick Coleman appeared in the box score for 37 minutes, but frankly, was hard to spot. Dikembe Mutombo is amazing. He flops like Reggie Miller and every time a foul is called, he gets the incredulous "They just replaced my coffee with Folger's Crystals" look on his face. If he weren't playing basketball for a living, he'd be wandering around department stores, "slipping" in the aisles and threatening lawsuits. Play the game, Deke. This looked like a team on the brink; I'll be shocked if Larry Brown is around next year to coach whatever's left.

The Pistons. Laimbeer, Isiah, and Rodman are gone, but the memory lingers. Bring it on baby! Celts in 6.

It appears that the first sign of unhappiness has come out among the crew of the Good Ship Lollipop. Rickey Henderson (no! not Rickey!) is griping about a lack of playing time and says some other team might appreciate him more. For the love of...Rickey, you're 72 years old, your team is in first place, and you knew from the start you'd be fighting for playing time.

Rickey says "If I don't do much the next couple of days, I might as well help someone else," If that's how you feel, Rickey, the Sox will be in Tampa Bay this weekend to play the Double-A's. Maybe they can leave you behind. I'm sure owners in Montreal, Colorado, Detroit, and Florida wouldn't mind having you around to sell a few seats. We'd love to keep you around, but if you're going to complain, get off the plane. This team is headed for champagne. Don't fill the cooler with your Hateorade.

I could focus on the fact that Rodney Rogers was 1 for 7 from the 3 point line. I could worry about the foul-shot rebound that slipped past 3 Celtics and wound up in the hands of a wide-open Iverson. I could moan about Walker and Pierce getting whacked with 2 quick fouls, causing them to miss most of the first half. And I could point out again that Rodney Rogers is killing this team.

But I won't. Must remain positive. Game 5 Friday.