Last night, I was fortunate enough to watch the Boston Celtics decimate the New York Knicks in person. It was one of the weirdest sporting events I’d ever attended. Here are a few quick observations:
– New York has no offensive flow. They were effective in feeding the ball into the post but there was never an attempt to pass from the post by either Curry or Randolph. It was like playing Street Fighter II against the guy who only uses Guile’s Sonic Boom; the Celtics jumped over the blue thing and kicked them in the head every time.
– If Ray Allen keeps driving to the hoop through four guys like he was last night, he’s going to come down on some guy’s foot, roll his ankle and be out for a month. Pierce is a much better slasher and they have guys who can play in the paint. There’s no need for RayRay to drive into brick walls like Curry. I hope Doc is ready to give Gabe Pruitt 15 minutes a game.
– By watching the body language in the huddle, you can tell Isaiah has all the respect of a substitute teacher. Nearly every guy in the huddle had his head covered with a towel starting around the second quarter. I’m not sure I saw Quentin Richardson in the huddle once; he spent most of his time watching the Celtics Dancers.
– The Celtics bench actually sat more than they stood, which is a first this year. Watching Scott Pollard give a casual high five to guys after a quarter said it all. He’s the kind of guy who breaks your hamate with his high fives but he looked like he was shot by an elephant gun at the half. This may have been the best defense the Knicks played all night.
– We heard both “Fire Isaiah!” and “Don’t Fire Zeke!” chants. Surreal.
– Can you believe a 300 lbs rookie named Big Baby was the player of the game in a match-up of two of the NBA’s most storied franchises? DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?
– I had the privilege of sitting in front of the drunkest man in the world. He arrived somewhere around the beginning of the 3rd quarter and proceeded to yell at the top of his lungs for almost an hour. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence. I usually get to sit somewhere near the drunkest man in the world, assuming I’m not bearing the standard that night. What was uncommon was how the drunk guy ran out of things to yell about. He yelled about the quality of the Knicks’ play, the value of Brian Scalabrine shooting the three, the respect we should have for James Posey, etc… Then he went on a four minute rant about George Mikan and then yelled “IIIIIIssssaaaaaiiiiiaaaaahhhhh!!!!!” until the end of the fourth. That’s how bad the game got- the drunks had nothing to yell at.