The Fan's Perspective

We have been waiting for this moment for two solid years. (The good people from the state of Ohio have been dreading it equally long.) The speculations and rumors build up like a tsunami — starting back in 2008 when Bosh, Wade, LeBron and Paul allegedly made a pact to join forces in 2010 — and gained more and more steam these past weeks. The wave is about to crash in a few minutes and it will sweep the past weeks and years away just like that.

(The Average Fan, the master of suspense, ladies and gentleman!!! I will now just sit here and wait for an offer from MTV to do the “Next time on the Jersey Shore 2″ video montages this fall. I am way too excited for this show. It can’t be healthy. The fact that I’ll be starting college in Miami this fall doesn’t help either. I know they have already filmed everything, but there still is an off-chance I’ll buy J-Woww shots at 3 a.m. in some seedy nightclub in Southe Beach two month from now. Don’t rule it out. But we’re getting off track. Where were we? LeBron. Free Agency. Crushing Cleveland fans. Alright. Got it.)

I can’t remember anything like this.

There haven’t been this many unnamed sources since… since … well … EVER!!! There are new hints, twists and turns seemingly every minute. Everybody wants to know where the most coveted free agent in the history of sports will play next year. Sports journalists, anchors, radio hosts. They are all basically willing to do anything short of actually selling their intestines for reporting the next nugget. But can you blame them?

Nope, because, if there is anything that’ll make the internet, stock market and possibly a whole state collapse  in a matter of minutes, it’s LeBron announcing his decision in a little less than an hour. At this point I am so LeBronized I am not even sure if he is picking a team or if he is running for president.

(I already feel terrible for Cavs fans, no matter what the King’s decision will be. They have been on pins and needles for weeks now and by deciding to make a one-hour-special and announce his decision on national televsion, LeBron has basically put on a medieval hangman’s cowl and guided every Cavs fan to the gallows. This won’t end well. Soembody tell Obama to send up the national guard to Ohio as a precautionary measure. I am not sure if that’s enough though.)

The beauty (That is if you are no Knicks, Bulls, Heat and especially no Cavaliers fan) of the whole thing is that we don’t know what will happen. Most people think he will go to Miami. But can we really be sure he wants to be the Robin to Wade’s Batman!? (The Master of suspense strikes again trying to rope you into believing that there still is some chance he might not go to Miami after all. I could keep people tuned for you, MTV!!! What are you guys waiting for!? Sign me, goddammit!)

The answer is no. Nobody knows. Maybe LeBron doesn’t even know yet (highly unlikely, but still in play)!?

There is no precedent for this, no protocol.

It’s a TV event unlike anything we have ever seen. It’s a milestone in sports marketing and free agency. It is the ultimate indicator of today’s zeitgeist: Squeeze the last dime out of every opportunity. Market yourself until you turn purple and use the globalization, social media and the 24/7 news circle as a tool to build your own “brand”. I won’t judge it. It’s smart if you ask me. Now is it immoral? Maybe. Does it shock me? No. We were headed for this.

But you know what we are heading for now? That’s right! A live-running diary!

So without further ado let’s turn it over to live-coverage from a cozy one-family house somewhere in Austria.

2:55 a.m.: AAAAAaaaaaannnnndddd we’re live!!!

2:57 a.m.: Wow, Jon Barry just verbally slapped Kobe in the face by mentioning that LeBron is the best player in the NBA. That can’t go over well in Bryant’s camp. Don’t be surprised if you wake up next to a dead horse head tomorrow, Jon.

3:03 a.m.: I will put the over/under for hours of sleep for Chris Broussard at 20 for this past week and I will pound the under. We should be able to bet on these things. Just like we should be able to bet on stuff like “Who’s suit was the most expensive” and “Who shined up the old eight ball the most”.

3:07 a.m.: Am I the only one who is sad that Bosh leaves the only team in the NBA that is the perfect fit in terms of team logo for him!? I mean does he not look exactly like a Raptor? That has to account for something, right!? No? Ok.

3:12 a.m.: Right now the strongest argument for Bron choosing Chicago is that he changed his number to 6. Why else would he do that? It can’t be just, because he wants to sell more jerseys, can it!? Oh, wait we are talking about NBA players here. So maybe it IS just to cash in one more time.

3:16 a.m.: Clean sweep for Miami among Wilbon, Broussard and Barry. I feel bad for Cleveland fans, but there absolutely should be a live stream from a few random Cleveland houses right now. Like you wouldn’t watch fans at the edge of their seats, ready to collapse in the blink of an eye. On second thought that would be the cruelest TV show ever. So scratch that. Whoops, I hope I didn’t just give a FOX executive an idea there.

3:22 a.m.: Finally, LeBron. He looks like an oversized tennis ref on that chair. Did they take those bar stools with them after they finished partying in South Beach? Oh snap! Did you see what I just did? Yes you did. Yes you did.

3:25 a.m.: Bron tells us that he didn’t decide until this morning. I have a hard time believing that. I would believe that he grew that James Harden beard in two days before I believe that he made the biggest decision of his life some 12 hours ago.

3:27 a.m.: HOLY S***!!! He just made the decision. It’s Miami! MIAMI!!! I really expected him to say Cleveland. Then again I have a soul.

3:30 a.m.: His heart may be around this area, but he can NEVER EVER go back to Ohio.

3:31 a.m.: He will still live in Ohio? Really? REALLY? That is the ballsiest move ever. The over/under for claybricks smashing through his window “Remember the Titans” -style is at 4 per week. Over.

3:34 a.m.: Did I mention that I’ll be starting college in Miami this fall? Ahhhww yeah!!! I’ll have the chance to go to a virtual All Star game every other day. Then again the arena won’t be half empty anymore now. So maybe I’ll just have to hope catching a glimpse of LeBron while partying in South Beach. Oh well.

3:38 a.m.: They just showed the reaction in a bar in Miami and Cleveland. The joy in Miami seemed contrived and the bar seemed half empty. Not a good sign if you’re LeBron. Contrived and half empty. Maybe I’ll get a cheap season ticket after all. The scene in the Cleveland bar was classic. The old “Rrrrrhhhaaaawwwww NOOOOOOOO!!!!!”. Poor people. That’s too much suffering for one region. It’s not even funny anymore.

3:43 a.m.: I give Pat Riley one month before he gives Spoelstra the “Alright you had your fun little buddy now step aside and let Daddy handle the big boys”- move. It’ll happen. Just wait.

3:47 a.m.: LeBron is getting more uncomfortable by the minute. Stuttering. Fidgeting. Nervous.

3:48 a.m.: If he wanted a ring he should have gone to Chicago. Obviously. He chose partying with friends over winning a ring. That’s fine. Every 24 year-old would have done that. Fits perfectly with the rest we know about LeBron: Loves jokes about farts, gregarious, still hangs with his high school buddies. So in the end it was the logical move for him.

3:52 a.m.: First time James seemed to get choked up when they showed people burn his jersey in Cleveland. I can’t tell if the reaction was real. But I sure hope he wasn’t surprised. He just decaptivated an entire state on national television. And he didn’t do it to win a ring, but to play pickup and party with his friends.

3:56 a.m.: I got a cold shiver running down my back when they showed old James highlights to the tune of Eminem’s “Not afraid”. I can only imagine the pain Cavs fans are feeling right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been more glad to be a Boston fan.

4:00 a.m.: Did LeBron just suggest that Joel Anthony might have to make an important basket? Are we sure he is not intoxicated? I am searching for a hip flask looming somewhere in his hand right now.

4:03 a.m.: I just noticed that Broussard is missing. Did he collapse from sleep deprivation or did ESPN have to hose him down after LeBron made his decision? Where is Chris? I am genuinely worried.

4:07 a.m.: So after more than an hour of LeBron. It’s time for a conclusion/verdict: Like I said earlier LeBron chose having fun vs winning (Chicago)/loyalty (Cleveland)/greatness (New York). He wanted to play with his friends, enjoy Miami’s nightlife and weather and not carry the whole load anymore. Translation: I don’t care about winning, I just want to have fun and a good time.  I should rephrase that: Maybe he talked himself into having the best shot at winning in Miami, but the reality is that joining the Bulls would’ve meant title after title. I am not saying that he won’t win one or two down there, but the number is definitely limited. In Chicago? He could have built a true dynasty. Only time will show if his decision was the right one.

04:16 a.m.: Alright, that’s it. The King is gone and the jester needs to follow. The next time I’ll be writing about LeBron I will hopefully be in a closer proximity. Maybe I’ll even be able to watch the 2008 Olympic team first hand. Until then, hang tight and always keep a fan’s perspective!

Being a sports fan is a funny thing.

It’s like being on an emotional roller coaster ride. (Well, for most sports fans. Sorry, Orioles fans. For you guys it’s more like being stuck in that one bumper car that doesn’t work and is being tormented by all other cars.) Every loss can ruin your day as much as a win can save it.

So with every game you watch you attach yourself more and more to that team. You feel like you know the players. You feel a sort of special connection. You’re the first one to notice when something is wrong with your guys and the last one to leave the arena or your TV screen when things do go astray.

In short, being a sports fan takes a lot of effort. It takes a lot out of you.

You go to the games, you watch them on TV, or online. You read box scores and sift through copious amounts of news and analysis on your team and their opponents. You become almost like a scout, a part of the staff or better a part of the team.

And while all that might take a toll on your body — Personally I feel like I have shortened my lifespan about 2-3 years following these 2010 NBA playoffs. Take all the sleep deprivation and all those “near-heart-attack-Oh-my-Lord-that -was-close!-moments” during the games and what you earn is a heart the size of a melone and arteries that are more clogged than a high school toilet. And don’t even get me started on all the unhealthy food you put into your body while watching games. Heck, I probably ate more cereal this month alone than Tony the Tiger ever did. — and your mind — With wins and losses prompting moodswings that are about as inexplicable to bystanders as Ron Artest’s behavior at post game interviews. — you always hope and sometimes even know that in the end it will be all worth it.

Uhmm, or not.

My wounds are still fresh so take this with a grain of salt, but in my opinion the worst possible feeling you can experience as a sports fan is losing a championship. It’s like running a marathon and cramping up ten feet before the finish line. Yes you made it far, but you didn’t make it. (If that makes sense.) It’s the sports equivalent of enduring foreplay with your spouse only to get blown off once you’re ready to get to the main course. It’s horrible. Like Ricky Bobby once said: “If you ain’t first, you’re last, son! Oh yeah and eff the Lakers!”

Ok, I made the second part up, but you get my point:  Losing sucks. While losing over a period of time sucks even more,  after a while you just get used to it and accept it. But losing a champioship, when you already have your hopes raised into dwindling heights only to have them chrushed by the cruel thunderbolt of fate, sucks more than Jenna Haze.  (Hey, nobody said this is going to be pretty. I am still in mourning, anger and disbelief mode all at the same time. And if I have to have one more Laker fan tell me that coming in second isn’t bad either, I might elbow him in the face Dwight Howard-style.)

But wait, we’re getting ahead of us. Let’s take a walk back on memory lane and see how everything started:

After losing 7 of their last 10 regular season games and setting a record for most blown fourth quarter leads in a regular season (Phil Jackson that “word that rhymes with crick” even used that stat during a timeout in Game 5) there was little to no hope entering the playoffs. Even as Doc Rivers and the rest of the team stuck to their mantra. (I am paraphrasing here so stay with me: “We are great if we’re all healthy so just wait till we get in the playoffs and kick some ass.”)

And amazingly enough they did just that. I had them as a first round out (and I’m even one of the more optimistic fans out there), but they proved just about everybody wrong when they made quick work of the lowly Heat in 5. (A team that should just rename itself “The Wades” already. After all why stop at changing Dade County to Wade County!? Go the whole nine yards, will ya!)

Even though Wade put on a staggering performance, hitting shots that seemed to defy every physics law there is, the Celtics were too much for Miami. They even got some of that ‘08 swagger back when Quentin Richardson got into a tussle with KG. By all means it was no convincing performance by the team in green, but they were just getting started.

Next up was Cleveland, a team that was primed once again to meet the Lakers in the Finals, but the C’s were not in the mood to roll over in front of the “King”.(That’s right I put that in quotation marks! Maybe Skip Bayless was right all these years.) Of course with all the frontrunners out there, just about every NBA expert had the C’s go out against the Cavs. (Not me by the way, I was even going to write a post titled “Why the Celtics will win”, but I ran out of time and never was able to finsih it. What you don’t believe me? How dare you? I swear I was going to write that! Why does no one believe me?)

And then Game 2 happened.

Then the Rondo triple double happened.

Then the “Who is that wearing Nr.23 and what they do with LeBron?” game happened.

And finally “Where suddenly being in the Eastern Conference Finals” happened.

Waiting for the Cinderellas in green was a Magic team that had put up gaudy numbers through two rounds by abusing the bottomfeeders of the playoffs. They were an upset ready to happen.

The Celtics, still blossoming in the role of the underdog (a role that is always easier than that of the favorit — no pressure, nobody-believes-in us-factor and nothing to lose and everything to gain), took it to the Magic early and often. They went up 3-0 against Orlando, dismantling them on their own home court twice in the process. Those first three games were highlighted by Vince Carter gagging like Jen…uhm let’s not go too far here, after all kids might be reading this…, Dwight Howard throwing elbows left and right like nobody’s business (even lulled Big Baby to sleep once) and Rashard Lewis MIA-ing (Scroll down to playoffs and check out his numbers against Boston. H-O-R-R-E-N-D-O-U-S!) so badly that it prompted me to check if he wasn’t smiling down from some milk carton. The C’s would eventually wrap it up in 6, but not before letting the Magic stay alive long enough that even I was getting nervous they might write history on the wrong end and become the first NBA team to blow a 3-0 lead.

But after the dust settled I finally came to grips with what had happened. My team was in the NBA Finals for the second time in three years. Now they even had a chance to go up against their biggest archrival, a team that every Celtics fan despises, and deny them the trophy one more time.

It was a run that was too good to be true. You had the canny vets who wanted to cement their place in history with one more ring — Pierce, Garnett, R. Allen. You had the young guns who were finally on par with and in some cases even better than the vaunted Big Three — Rondo, Perkins. And finally you had this rag-tag group of characters, players that had been labeled as headcases and uncochable in the past — Wallace, players that had never been in a winning environment — Robinson, and players that still wanted and needed to proved that they belonged on this team — Davis, T. Allen. (And then you had Sheldon Williams, but let’s not get into that or else I might write some things I might regret.)

And you had all of them playing as a true team. The starters we’re rooting on the bench players. The bench players taking pressure off the starters by putting up solid numbers and displaying great defensive effort. No bitching at teammates, no stink-eyes directed at teammates, no complaining about playing time, no nothing. It seemd like we had caught lightning in a bottle. The right cast of players, showing up at precisely the right time, with the right coach to guide them and the right system for their talents.

Everything was all right in Celtic country.

But then the C’s got clobbered in Game 1. It seemed like all the analysts had been right. “The Lakers have too much length. They have too many weapons for Boston too handle. The Celtics are old. Yada yada yada” even though my confidence was shaken I knew better than to put too much weight on one game. I wouldn’t overreact like everybody else.

So I put on my green lucky Red Sox shirt (Which I hadn’t washed all throughout the playoffs. Needless to say I watched most of the games alone.) and anxiously awaited Game 2, more than happy to watch it at a normal time on a regular TV instead of keeping myself awake with so much  Red Bull and coffee pulsating through my venes that it might be illegal , crammed in front of my tiny computer at 3 a.m. in the morning. (During the NBA Finals I visited relatives in Florida. Thus explaining the lack of posts. Forgive me loyal readers and spam bots.)

And boy, oh boy, my lucky T-shirt and Ray Allen had come to play. Jesus Shuttleswort had prompted Mike Breen to seven “BANGs” in the first half alone by scorching the Lakers from behind the arc. It was one of those games where you knew something special was happening and you were becoming part of history in the process. He only made one more in the second half, nevertheless breaking the Finals record for most threes in a game. The Celts would hang on to win it, but they let the Lakers hang around even though Allen had a record-setting-night. I should have seen the red flags right there, but I was blinded by loyalty and still believing. Especially now that the series shifted back to Boston with both teams tied.

Game 3 was a different story though. The C’s looked sloopy and undetermined. The defense was spotty and so was the effort. Nevertheless they were in it till the end, but nobody was able to make shots for the Celtics and so the Lakers took Game 3 for the 2-1 lead.

While my nervousness was rising I still had this weird confidence that the Celtics would win Game 4. Maybe it was just wishing, but I couldn’t picture this team going out easily. It just didn’t fit. Not for this team. Not this season.

It was a dogfight. Not pretty, but competitive and close. These were two even teams, clawing and fighting for a W. Then Kobe went off in the third. Shot after shot went in, one more ridiculous than the other. But then Big Baby went crazy. I mean literally insane. (I am 96% sure they had to hose him down afterwards.) Grabbing rebounds in traffic, tipping balls in and hustling up and down the court. He even gave us the best unintentional comedy clip of these Finals when he scored, got fouled and screamed at the top of his lungs while drooling … well … like a Big Baby. The Celtics hung on to the lead, with Doc Rivers trusting his bench and leaving them in about as long as you can leave them in without getting lynched by the crowd and evened the series at two apiece. It was on.

Then everything went the C’s way in Game 5. Pierce put on a showcase performance. Rondo had plays that made you hold your breath. Garnett came through. It was just a sound all around performance by a team that was on the verge of winning it all.

I thought we had it. I simply couldn’t picture the Celtics losing two in a row. I somewhat anticipated the Game 6 loss. It was a classic letdown performance. Vintage 2010 Celtics. They had one against the Cavs (Game 3) and one against the Magic (Game 5). Games where you think you just have to show up and cash in the W.

Still I ignored all those red flags. I just had this strange feeling that this was a team of destiny. Even though the Celtics were without Perkins, I could still hear Doc Rivers in the back of my mind: “This starting lineup has never lost a series.” A statement so staggering, so captivating and above all so true! (In hindsight it still holds true. Perkins wasn’t there and he might have been more valuable than all of us could’ve ever imagined. I just ignored it. Maybe I wanted to ignore it. But we are getting ahead of ourselves again.)

We had come too far to let it slip through.

Or so I thought.

My recollections of June 17th 2010 are about as cloudy as those of February 3rd 2008. The two worst losses in my life as a sports fan.

Fast forward to the closing minutes: The Celtics had possessed a double digit lead and had given it away, because they weren’t able to make baskets for 5 solid minutes. I don’t have to look this stuff up. It’s etched into my mind forever like “Always look both ways before you cross the street” or “Don’t run with scissors”.

The Lakers were up by two possesions late. Then Shed hits a three. Artest answers with a trey (aka. the Dagger). Then Allen from the corner with three. Kobe bricks one and then…

… the most important rebound of the ballgame …

…ends up in Gasol’s hands.

Bryant gets fouled and makes both freebies.

There is still enough time left.

Then Rondo gets a rebound off an Allen miss and hits a miraculous three. My exact thoughts at that point were: ” If Rondo of all people makes a three, in the clutch no less, there is no way we can lose this game. We just can’t!” I was still hopeful, but in retrospect maybe it was less hopefulness and more refusal to succumb to reality. (Like that, huh!? I didn’t take psychology in high school for nothing.)

There are 16.2 seconds left. My hands are shaking. I am still in “Don’t-stop-believing-mode”. I just can’t let go. Every sense of objectivity is already out the window.

LA for the inbound after a timout. If this miracle is going to happen for Boston then they steal the ball right here. Pictures of Bird stealing the ball and the legendary call that goes with it flash through my mind.

But no. Not for me. Not here. Not now. I don’t get a “Bird-steals-the-ball-moment”.

Vucjacic gets the inbound and goes to the line. He is as ice cold as winter in Austria. This is the last stand right here.

First one. Money. Second one. In the bank.

That’s game.

An emptiness that I only knew from February 3rd 2008 suddenly overcomes me. I let my guard down. But there was no going back once I hoped on the hope-train. I rode it and it crashed. Went up in flames just like KG’s, Allen’s and Pierce’s dreams of a second ring.

A golden opporunity (literally) missed. A Cinderella story with no Happy End.

In one word: harsh.

Which brings us full circle to that worst feeling in sports.

Losing a championship.

Eventually I’ll get over it, but it will remain a dark stain on my still relatively clean slate of fandom. LA won. Deservedly. They played better, smarter and hustled more when it matter most.

A tough pill to swallow.

BUT…

Just let the record show, that not Andrew Bynum, not Phil Jackson and certainly not Kobe Bryant won the Lakers their 16th championship, but that a lunatic from Queensbridge sealed the deal for LA.

So chew on that Los Angeles!

I love basketball.

Love everything about it.

The esthetics of a well-executed fast break or an impeccable jump shot. The beauty of a perfect bounce pass or methodical pick and roll basketball. The tenacity of going for a rebound or completely shutting down your opponent.

These are just some of the aspects I look for when I watch or play basketball.

But the thing I enjoy the most is passing and playing with passion.

Whether it’s playing basketball or any other teamsport (like soccer for example) I have always been one to obtain more satisfaction from setting up a teammate for a goal or basket than scoring myself. I have always taken great pleasure in doing all the “dirty” work. Like outhustling taller guys for rebounds or guarding the best guy on the other team. I love the look on their faces when I snatch a board even though they are two heads taller or steal the ball even though they have been playing basketball longer than I have walked. I try to do everything at 110 % intensity when I play. No matter if it is beating someone off the dribble and driving to the hole or threading the needle for a pass. It’s just in my DNA.

These are some of the things I do well and before I fall off my high horse here are the things I lack:

I can’t make a trey to save my life and by and large I am not a very consistent shooter thus passing up wide open j’s is a staple of mine. I will take chances on defense to go for the steal and get burned in the process.  Sometimes I am too hesitant, instead of just putting my head down and drive to the basket I will make one pass too many. You could say my unselfishness is my biggest flaw at times.

Now I know what you’re thinking.

“Why the eff is he telling me all that???”

The answer is simple.

I model my game after my favorite NBA player. From the pros right down to the cons. Probably more by accident than on purpose, but still.

This player had one of the greatest playoff performances ever on Sunday night. It made me realize once again why I idolize him so much and why he is currently ranked only behind Brady on my list of favorite Boston athletes (The complete list: 1.Brady, 2.Rondo, 3. Welker, 4.Pierce, 5.Garnett, 6.Allen, 7. Youkilis, 8. Pedroia,…, 131. Ortiz, 132. Drew.) It was unlike anything I have ever seen. An all around thing of beauty.

The player?

Rajon Rondo.

Or as he is more commonly known: The Future of Basketball in Beantown.

It was one of those games where you could see history unfold while watching. It was a truly epic act of brilliance. A work of art.

Like with a magnificent work of art you could see all the the small parts converging into one masterpiece. A single brush stroke of the Mona Lisa might not seem as sublime as the whole thing, but if you know how much thought and work went into that one little stroke it automatically equals the grandness of the entire picture.

Every one of his 29 points was a testimony of his incredible willpower and drive. Every one of his 18 rebounds was pure hustle and “wanting it more” (to use some commentator jargon). Every one of his 13 points was an act of unselfishness and being one step ahead of the defense.

And the crazy thing is that I am not even exaggerating when I talk about Rondo’s playoff performance being one for the ages, which is a first considering that I am a) talking about a Boston player and b) a huge homer. But just to put things into perspective: The only players to have ever exceeded Rajon’s Game 4 outing in a playoff game in all three categories are (hold your breath…hold it… hold it.. ok read on)  Oscar Robertson (32, 19, 13)  and Wilt Chamberlain (29, 36, 13). Not bad company, ehy!? Nope, not bad company at all.

We saw glimpses of what Rondo is capable of in last year’s playoffs against the Bulls when he put a depleted defending champion on his back and carried them to four victories. He had 20 points or more in four games while shooting over .500 in four of the seven. He had double digit assists in five games and double digit rebounds in three. I’d call that putting yourself on the map, but there were still holes in his game back then.

Now? Not so much anymore.

Last year he would routinely pass up wide open 15-footers (Sounds familiar?) and make the wrong decisions at the wrong times – i.e. try to make a crazy, ill-advised pass rather than just beat guys off the dribble and force the refs to do their job – (Déjà-vu, anyone?). He just wasn’t ready yet.

This year he is ready. He will take that 15-footer now which forces opponents to play up on him. (Even though the Cavs aren’t actually doing that so far. They would still rather have him take the jumper than have him break ankle after ankle on his way to the cup. And it’s probabyl still the right tactic, but we are slowly entering “pick-your-poison-territory”.) Furthermore he knows when to pick his spots now. He has more of a feel for when it’s time to take over and when it’s time to be the facilitator (aka. Sign Nr.1 of true greatness) and he has his money shot (= a high percentage running floater in the lane) which he can get at seemingly anytime in the game. He is fearless, a very good defender and arguably the best rebounding point guard in the league. In short, a complete player and a point guard in the purest sense.

There is no doubt that Rondo is by far THE best player on this Celtics team. But the real question is “What is his ceiling?”. He is only 24 and already one of the five best point guards in the league. (I’d put him at Nr. 1, but I might be slightly biased.) Could he become one of the greatest point guards of all time in a couple of years? (Say, once he starts to knock down the trey with regularity, improves his free throw shooting and developes a reliable post-up game?)

I don’t know.

But I do know one thing.

Rondo has given Bostonians reason for hope. He is the sole reason why we are still in this series. (Well, him and LeBron’s apparent overconfidence/borderline cockiness in the first two games and his mysterious elbow injury.)

He gives the C’s a chance to win against a superior team with a deeper bench, more flexibility and the best player in the game.

I knew that going into this series, but I started believing it in Game 4 when his phenomenal all around performance culminated in a gorgeuos behind the back pass to Tony Allen on a fast break dunk. Rondo floated through the air, disregarded Mo Williams entirely as if he was going for the layup, had the incredible awareness to know exactly where LeBron was (who was chasing him down to execute his patented mega swat sending the ball off the backboard at around 130 mph), waited just long enough, then flicked the ball behind his back to a wide open Allen and left Bron Bron sailing by the basket.

I remember exulting with joy and thinking:

“WOW, THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I LOVE WATCHING THIS GUY!!! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO BE LIKE AS A BASKETBALL PLAYER!!! THIS IS EXACTLY WHY WE HAVE A CHANCE!!!

And yes, I was thinking in capital letters.