Learning to Like the Celtics. Maybe.

Life comes at you fast. One moment you’re a kid being tormented by Larry Bird and his pasty buddies, the next you’re an adult you’re wondering if maybe, just maybe, you might be able to change your decades long relationship with the Boston Celtics to something more positive.

As background, circumstances have recently conspired to create a situation where it might be beneficial for me to be able to watch/discuss/reflect upon the Celtics without actively rooting against them, or at least contain my visible sense of disdain. While explaining this to the editor of this website, he was mystified. “Why does everyone dislike sustained excellence?” he asked with childlike innocence, and thus the idea for this article was born.

I have a long history with the Boston Celtics, none of it favorable. I cut my teeth as an NBA fan in the 1980s and the Celtics simply were not cool. The Lakers were cool, and although I myself was not cool I admired this about them. Furthermore, as a proud supporter of the Bad Boy Detroit Pistons, my young self received a fair amount of psychic pain courtesy of Boston – Bird’s steal, Adrian Dantley’s concussion, Robert Parish sucker punching poor helpless Bill Laimbeer* – the scars run deep, friends. 

It’s this mysterious tendency toward self-sabotage that I’m starting to find oddly endearing. I mean, who among us hasn’t face-planted or failed in dramatic fashion for no apparent reason?

Fast forward to more Celtics-Pistons battles in the early 2000s, and then being forced to suffer the indignity of rooting for Kobe’s Lakers (by then, no longer cool) simply to see Boston lose. More recently, the sight of Steph Curry ritually dissecting the Celtics on his way to silencing the haters once and for all warmed my cold, cold heart in a way that few sporting moments ever have. Admittedly, that was more for the joy of seeing Steph and the Warriors succeed, but it coming against the team that Bill Simmons had been hyping for months as possibly having the greatest defense in NBA history was a delicious cherry on top.

So yes, the Boston Celtics and I go back a long way and I can’t recall a time I ever rooted for them to win. But I do believe that personal growth is possible, even necessary, and perhaps it’s time for me to bring an open mind to the subject. Let’s do this.

I’ve had a soft spot for Jalen Brown ever since he graciously took a photo with my then-11 year old son during a community event while he was at Cal. So, despite his perplexing inability to dribble with his left hand, that feels like a worthwhile starting point. Continuing down the roster, Derrick White is a likable guy – he has an understated steadiness about him, a solid dude you’d want in your corner in any circumstance. And Jrue Holiday is simply one of the most badass players in the league. 

Beyond that, things start to break down for me. Jayson Tatum? No thanks. Al Horford? Definitely not. Payton Pritchard? I didn’t like Danny Ainge the first time around. Hmm. Green has been my favorite color my whole life, maybe that counts for something?

Just when I felt I had completely failed the assignment, I had a breakthrough. The Celtics of this era have a tendency to inexplicably stumble at the strangest moments. In what I’m sure is completely exasperating for their true fans (versus someone trying to talk themself into tolerating them), they are prone to terribly-timed lapses in focus, weird blowouts, defeats snatched from the jaws of victory. Even when they should be trouncing everyone, sometimes they just…don’t. 

It’s this mysterious tendency toward self-sabotage that I’m starting to find oddly endearing. I mean, who among us hasn’t face-planted or failed in dramatic fashion for no apparent reason? Certainly not me – I’m guilty of shooting myself in the foot so many times it’s a miracle I still have toes. As part of the “my own worst enemy” club, I recognize fellow members when I see them and am giving the Celtics a knowing nod from across the room. Even superhuman NBA players just fuck up sometimes. It’s ok.

This was a powerful revelation for me. No, I probably won’t be getting a Kevin McHale tattoo or wearing a Brian Scalabrine jersey around Oakland any time soon, but it cracked open the door to positive feelings that transcend sports. Will I ever be a real Boston Celtics fan? Almost certainly not. But can I empathize with them as fellow travelers, people who are trying hard but sometimes just mess up and blow it? Yeah, definitely. That’s something I can get behind, and it feels like a good start.

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*Editor’s Note: Bill Lambeer was a big meanie who deserve to get punched in his big dumb face.