The KG Asterick, Or Reason #8,234 Why The World Loves Boston Injuries

Oh, the things I do for you, dear reader. It's taking years off my life, this exposure to such unabashed and unblinking douche- baggery. It's also speaks to the workday's length and my interest in cultivating a low level of rage to help me get through it.

Which is all a roundabout way of getting to the point of yet another Bill "Bad Tooth" Simmons podcast on the World Wide Lemur page, in which we learn that if Kevin Garnett can't play in this playoff, as head coach Doc Rivers has indicated, it means that the eventual non-Celtic champion will own a tainted title.

You know, with an asterisk.

First, let's go into the nature of the Asterisk in the first place. There is, really, no defense for it on the Jerk Meter. If you go here, you're a jerk, plain and simple; you have to ruin someone else's happiness to have your own. Not to put to fine a point on it, but you make decent people spit. (And yes, that goes for the father of the Asterisk Title, the wildly overrated Phil Jackson. But that's a whole other kettle of hate.)

Let's move beyond the odiousness of the tactic and talk about the actual merits of how wildly sad, unfortunate and unexpected it was to lose a big man with over 1,000 NBA games on his odometer. The simple fact of the matter is that the devil's bargain that the Celtics made for last year's title has already paid off, and isn't likely to be paid again. When you build a team around three ticking time bombs of high mileage second banana superstars, this is what you get. Comfort yourself in your championship, knowing that most teams that make this dice roll come up craps on every pass.

In your best possible year, the injuries are timed to stagger out in the regular season and allow you to make a deep run, a la the Spurs going every-other year (prior to this year's Manu-ectomy, of course). When the stars don't align, you lose. Please, at the very least, have the self-respect that the Allmighty gave to a leech and accept this about yourselves, OK?

But wait, there's more. And I won't even get into the massive turd that Simmy Boy dropped in another sock-ruining podcast as to why the A's are the worst team to ever win 2 out of 3 at home against his Red Sox, or how awful A's Fan is to not come out to support their team in an old stadium in bad weather, with the knowledge that the person in the seat next to them is very likely to be Red Sox Fan. Anyhoo...

You see, we also get to learn from the master that Good Cleveland Fan *hates* that Garnett won't be able to go this time around. Only Bad Cleveland Fan is happy to have ducked the bigger baby. (What, I'm just giving props to Glen "Big Baby" Davis. Shame on you for seeing more into that, Celtics Fan.)

By the way, I'm still pretty much expecting Garnett to arise from Paul Pierce's Wheelchair of Miracles and throw down double-doubles while the Bad Tooth pleasures himself for a few thousand words. Meanwhile, my Sixers will lose in five against a Magic team that will get swept in the second round, with three of those games being tossed away in the last minute. In other news, I've just learned that in a past life I was one of those camp guards that enjoyed their work in eastern Europe in the low '40s. I'd feel bad about that, but I'm holding out hope that in Simmy Boy's past life, he was in my care, which would make all of this even. Moving on.

You see, Good Cleveland Fan doesn't want to have their possible championship cheapened by the Asterisk That Only Boston Fan Can See. Good Cleveland Fan wants to earn their first professional championship since the pre-Super Bowl Browns the *right* way, which is to say, while giving Boston Fan and his half dozen or so parades in this decade every possible chance. Good Cleveland Fan has simply shrugged off the close calls that the Jose Mesa Indians, Bernie Kosar Browns, LeBron's own Finals sweep moment, and the 40-plus years of being one of America's most tortured sports cities to think about how bad Boston Fan must be feeling about KG. Only Bad Cleveland Fan sees this news and thinks, happily, that the Lord may be finally setting up the breaks their way.

No, I'm not making this up. I don't even think the Bad Tooth was doing this as one of his periodic tired wrestling heel bits, either. It's just the way they are -- utterly freaking clueless as to how anyone on the other side of a sports argument might see things, or how his Boston Uber Alles apologies and hopes makes him an all-day tool.

Here's a small clue from the rest of the nation, on the off chance that any Boston Fan has gotten this far into the post... when Tom Brady got hurt last year, it was the best day of the NFL season for a large percentage of the NFL fan base, because it made you that sad. And the rest of us only enjoys your presence when you are that sad.

When Brett Favre cemented his legacy as the worst Last Season In The Wrong Laundry Guy Ever by keeping your Pats out of the dance, that was also just what we wanted for Christmas, preferably with one of those stocking-stuffer online petitions from you people to try to get the rules changed after the fact. Celtic Elimination Day, assuming that it arrives, will be one of the happiest days in the NBA calendar for everyone who doesn't root for your team. And there are more of us than there are of you.

So, to sum up:

You are hated.

Not envied.

Hated.

Not special.

Hated.

Not unique.

Hated.

I'm saying this in really short sentences so that you understand it.

Even if all of your teams go into the tank at once for the rest of my lifetime, with the Celtics being the best candidate to circle the drain given how likely it is that Ray Allen will soon succumb to the brittleness that kills off every aging jump shooter, no one will ever feel sorry for you again.

In any matchup with even the most odious of opponents (i.e., the Yankees), the rest of the world will see you as equally distasteful. Especially for people who have, you know, paid attention to baseball in the last decade or so. (This, by the way, is my explanation for why Oriole Fan and site contributor Dirty Davey still has his reflexive Anyone But The Yankees thing going on.)

Which, of course, you will completely ignore, given that your heads are so far up your Asterisks, it's a wonder that you can watch the games at all.

Oh, and if you want to go down the path of how Simmy Boy doesn't speak for you? Um, no.

Own him, like all of the other mewling celebrities in your fan base.

Own him, like your Nixonian football coach and your riverdancing closer, your roll out the ball commuting basketball coach and your increasingly lily-white baseball team and fan base.

Own him, along with the simple and persistent fact that PEOPLE HATE YOU BECAUSE THEY SHOULD.

And in other Site News, this is Post #2,000.

Apropos, don't you think?

Lakers-Celtics, Game Six, Fourth Quarter: Well, At Least That's Over

Odom to the line and misses the first; it's 28. Rondo, easily, to the rim, yet again. Ariza gets hammered inside, because the Celtics actually give a damn about defense. He makes one, and an actual Laker o-board is converted with a hoop by Vujacic. A miss is turned into a bad Vujacic turnover, and Farmer makes a terribly weak flagrant one foul on Rondo at the rim. Jordan Farmer was clearly in the idea that he shouldn't give up the layup, but also that he didn't care enough to exert effort on the foul. That was special - gutless and cowardly. A new level!

Rondo makes one of the two flagrants, and the Celtics bring in Garnett. I wonder if he goes headhunting now. Baby Davis goes hard to the rim, and Odom fouls him hard, too -- but again, not with enough effort to be meaningful. It's like passive-aggressive thuggery right now. Davis makes the second, and it's 30 again. Farmer makes a long 3. I kind of want this to stay really far apart, to make sure that everyone knows this wasn't a game. Allen is left alone for an easy three. Laker turn, followed by an Allen turn. Does Bryant even bother to come back in to this game? Turiaf makes from distance. Nice to know that everyone on this team is allergic to contact. Allen with another 3, and for some reason -- maybe it's contractually obligated? -- Jackson calls another timeout. The lead is 31, the diary is only being read by Laker masochists and Celtic gloaters, and my only consolation is that the number of people watching this at this point is probably equivalent to Cavs-Spurs...

Kobe's back! Um, whatever. A Laker miss is followed by another Allen 3; it's 104-70. Bryant drives -- now, that's a shock -- and it's knocked out of bounds. He then misses a 25 foot three over Garnett, who lays it up on the other end. Odom drives and scores. The largest margin of victory in a Finals is 32 -- come on, Green! Rondo misses, and I don't know what the Lakers are doing anymore; both teams seem interested in throwing the ball out of bounds now. Rondo leaves with 21, 8 and 6 steals. Egads. Farmer turns. Allen misses, KG boards and scores. Ariza misses, Bryant boards, a Farmer 3. The Celts have the most steals in Finals history. A Posey layup, and KG blocks Odom. The game gets ragged, with even more Allen threes, and he's just going for records now as well. Odom still seems to care and drives, and Garnett hammers him. Allen has tied a Finals record with 7 threes, and on some level, I don't want Odom to be remembered as the goat of the Finals for the Lakers, not when there are so many other choices, but he's going to get it nonetheless. 5:07 to go.

Odom makes both, and it's just 34! Celtics Fan sings, and Pierce hits another 3. I think we know why the Lakers haven't trapped; they just suck at that, too. Odom slams off a Walton feed. Garnett misses, Odom boards, and no one cares. Celtics finally pull starters with 4:01 left, and that should end the wait for the return flagrant foul... Walton hits a 3. Powe misses, Davis boards, gets the return pass and goes to the line. Jackson should pull his starters soon, but maybe he doesn't want to set the record. Celtic scrubs play volleyball and score. Powe fouls Odom, who is racking up garbage time points in an attempt to avoid goat horns. It'd help if he could hit free throws; it's still 35 with 3:10 left.

Powe dunk off weak full court pressure. Bryant misses a three. Posey hits a three, and the Laker starters get to endure all of this. Odom to the line again. Bryant is 7 of 22 with one assist. I suppose that's better than the Suns Game Seven, but if anyone ever -- EVER -- wants to tell me how good Bryant is, well, they might want to look at how big he comes up when his team is facing elimination. Somehow, it doesn't quite jibe with his reputation.

Odom hits one after the break, and I think Garnett is going to pee himself. Jackson finally goes to the bench, I guess that he's lost his taste in rubbing their nose in it. Powe is fouled by Turiaf, and the audio on my HD starts cutting out -- thank you, technical failures. 125-86 after the makes. Mark Jackson is now praising Brian Scalabrine, so I guess we no longer have real basketball players to talk about. Walton misses, Baby Davis dunks. Ariza misses. House oops to Tony Allen, and it's nice to see the Celtics playing with class and the lead. Farmer 3 makes it 40. We're two points away from the largest margin in a Finals game, and House with the makes to get us there. 1:04 left. Vujacic 3 to be a killjoy. House runs clock, misses a 3, and Powe is called for pushoff, so maybe that record is safe. Rivers takes the Gatorade, which is kind of a mess on a basketball court, and will further delay this to midnight. Thanks, Celtics!

Walton makes one. I'm morosely thinking how we're just a David Tyree miracle away from the total Boston sweep of all major sports in one year, and how inconceivable that seems to anyone who doesn't live in Boston. And that's your final, Celtics 131, Lakers 92.

Congrats, Beantown. It's your world. We all just live in it. (Oh, and thank you for booing Stuart Scott and David Stern. That was appreciated.)

"With No Regard For Human Life!"

That was the call from the great Kevin Harlan in the one truly exciting moment from the latest fugfest (that's a step up from an ugfest, for the curious) from Cavs-Celts. This may be the worst series to ever go 7.

The Dunk isn't available just yet, so tide yourself over with this little montage. Ye gads.



With 1:45 left and the Cavs up 7, James finally shook Paul Pierce, went over James Posey, and threw down as Kevin Garnett gave him a body shot -- and that, ladies and gentlemen, was your ballgame.

And the reason why we watch. Just fantastic. The home teams are now 15-1 in this round of the playoffs, and we're going long in everything but Pistons-Magic.

Who wins the best of 3? Well, the smart money always goes on the home team in these things, and as bad as the Celtics have been at closing games on the road, they've been in Uber Mode at home.

It's hard to imagine, however, that James is going to continue to shoot this badly, no matter what kind of defense he's facing. And when you've got the best player on the floor -- and that's James, despite the shooting woes, because he wound up with 21, 6 and 13 assists -- you've always got a chance in a Game 7. (And if the Pistons close the Magic in 5, it really won't matter who wins this, because the Conference is going to Detroit.)

Something that the world misses in giving the Celtics credit for their great defensive job on James... yes, indeed, but he's doing the same thing to Pierce. He and the looking-entirely-spent Ray Allen were 10 of 26 for 28 points tonight, which is officially Whoop De Damn Do Territory. Garnett disappeared, of course, with 4 points in the second half; if the Cavs had managed to hit some shots before late, this would have been a 20 point game. If the Celts don't have a lead, they're not winning, at least not in this playoff season.

Oh, and Cleveland Fan? Boston Sucks is a lovely chant, but it needs another section to answer with what, exactly, they suck. If you catch my drift.

Celtics-Hawks Game 7: Clowntime is Over

Another clinching game where I can write the lead a long time before the clock hits zeroes, as Boston just simply strangled the Hawks today in a Game 7 final that was close for about 3 minutes. Special goat horns go to the truly terrified Josh Smith, who had more of the Hawks close misses when the game was still in the realm of being a game, but even if he had been Dominique Wilkins II today, the Hawks were going down hard. Al Horford also gave them nothing, but in both cases, maybe the Hawks get better from this. (But not really better, since that would involve a time machine that lets them go back and select Chris Paul, the mistake that Hawks Fan will be crying over for, oh, just a decade or so.)

For Atlanta to win this series, one of the small matchups where you'd think they'd have an edge -- Mike Bibby and his vaunted playoff experience vs. Rajon Rondo and his complete lack of same -- turned out to be their biggest problem. Rondo had a 7 to 1 assist to turnover ratio, and his man-up defense and strong rebounding from the 1 position really made this game drama-free. Once again, CP3 would have made that a much better match-up, but CP3 would also make the Hawks a lot more than an 8 seed.

As for the Celts, one suspects that the damage has already been done by just getting extended this far. The aura of invincibility is gone, especially on the road. Doc Rivers has shown himself to be, well, Doc Rivers, especially in the management of his bench. There's no way that this series should have gone 7... and in the meantime, the Cavs have had rest, and the Pistons have found their legs. I still think Boston gets to the third round, but they have older legs that didn't really need a war of attrition, and the only way they were getting this done was by having an easy road to the Finals.

But when they were up 34 with 3 minutes left to go in the third and still diving on the floor for loose balls, or when Garnett gave Pachulia a Rick Mahorn-esque back screen as his last act of the first round... I'm pretty sure that Celtics Fan had a complete stiffy. So there's that.

The Epic Drop: Pissing On Green Corn Flakes

A day after FTT tells Celtics Fan that KG isn't coming, we go into detail as to why he won't help.

You have to admire us for our consistency.