Bleed Green

Remember how Marty McFly reacted whenever Biff called him a chicken?  Yeah, I'm like that when someone wants to make a bet on any of my vaunted Boston/New England teams.  Well, maybe not the Bruins, but you get the point.  I can't pass it up.  I've won some.  And, regrettably, lost some.  I've gone and made another - I think I need help.

My 70's-era youth was filled with glorious names: Jo Jo White, Dave Cowens, John Havlicek, Don Nelson, Don Chaney, Nate "Tiny" Archibald among many, many others.  The 80s?  Where do I start?  Hell, where else can I start?  Larry Bird.  Larry Legend.  The Kid from French Lick.  But he wasn't alone.  Kevin McHale (who may be directly responsible for this go-round - thanks, Kevin, you Celtic at heart), "The Chief" Robert Parish, Dennis "DJ" Johnson (RIP), Cedric "Cornbread" Maxwell, Danny Ainge, and, a personal favorite of mine, Gerald Henderson.  Danny wrote today about crying when the Lakers lost in '84.  Well, I was on the opposite coast and I cried.  Tears of joy.  It was a magical season - 62 wins, the first of three consecutive MVPs for Bird, McHale's first of two consecutive Sixth Man Awards - all you could want.  And that trophy was the perfect cap.

During the 90s and early 00s, however, they lost me.  They were a rudderless ship after Bird retired and Red cut back his involvement.  ML Carr was never a great coach and Rick Pitino was a one-man wrecking ball, single-handedly destroying this storied franchise.  Seven years after his welcomed departure, well, I'm sitting here watching them in the championship for the first time in 21 years.  Against the Lakers of all teams.  Some things are different: I'm not wearing pin-striped Cotlers or sporting a sweet pair of Adidas Gazelles, Depeche Mode isn't on the radio (they're on my iPod, but I digress) and Larry isn't draining threes or making no-look passes.

But the thrill is back.  The Garden (well, the TD BankNorth Garden - whatever) is rockin' once again.  The ghosts of Johnny Most and Red Auerbach are in their respective seats, the Leprechaun is sporting an ear-to-ear smile and 16 championship banners hang above the Parquet.  I think I feel a 17th coming on.