Did you know that the Celtics won the NBA Finals? I do. Which says more than you would think.
I’ve watched two basketball games in the past four days, which is more than I’ve watched in my entire life. This is because the buzz of anticipation and raw excitement emanating off the walls of greater Boston was so palpable, I felt as if I’d be missing out, as a new Bostonian, if I didn’t tune in.
I found out the Celtics were in the playoffs last Thursday. I then discovered that the next game was actually Game 4 of the NBA Finals, and that the Celtics were 3-0 in the series and could win it all that game. I know, I know, I’m pretty well-versed in sports talk.
I understood how the NBA playoffs work because it’s basically the same as the NHL playoffs, which I started watching last year after reading an absurd amount of hockey romance books. Turns out hockey is a lot of fun to watch, and not just because muscular men twirl around on ice with curved batons as their wavy “hockey hair” pokes out of their (not very cute) helmets.
Anyways, back to basketball. I went to a sports bar Friday night to watch Game 4.
Boy, was I enamored.
Not by the game, the Celtics sucked. I think they played so crappy on purpose so they could win at home, but what do I know? This is my first rodeo.
I was amazed with the crowd of people in the bar and the sheer vigor with which they watched their tall leprechauns trot and skip around the shiny hardwood floor. (Sorry purists, I meant parquet.)
I left after the third quarter because, let’s be honest, the Celtics were playing badly and the joy of the earlier quarters was nowhere to be found. Season 3, Part 2 of “Bridgerton” had just been dropped as well, and I needed to know what happened. That’s my NBA Finals.
Monday rolled around and I knew I had to go back to the sports bar to watch the game. If people were that invested when the Celtics didn’t even show up, imagine the fanfare if they won.
When I got there, the bar was at capacity, but I managed to slip in — only to feel like a sardine in a Sex Pistols T-shirt, packed in between all sorts of fluorescent green apparel.
Every single basket made by the Celtics earned a loud cheer and round of applause. Every basket made by the Mavericks could have been missed due to the silence of the crowded bar.
Jayson Tatum was playing great, in my expert opinion. After a particularly good play by Tatum, some guy next to me said, “When he remembers he’s 6’10”, he’s really good,” as a guy in front of us turned around and said, “Dude, that is so true.”
After the half-time buzzer-beating half-court shot that Payton Pritchard sank in, I thought the building was going to collapse with all the screams and fists being jousted into the air.
“I’m not drinking tonight, but I’m getting another beer,” one person said after the insane shot.
One person who really stood out to me was the Mavericks’ MVP — at least, I assume he was their MVP. I have no clue what his name is, but I know he’s #77. (Just did a Google, it’s Luka Dončić.)
I told my mom this when he came up on the screen for Game 4, and the thought kept coming back during Game 5. Dončić looks like a dad of four who plays in a beer league to escape familial obligation and relive his glory days as a high-school baller.
One Celtics fan screamed, “No! Not this guy again!” as Dončić sank another one.
I truly believed he was fueled by Bud Light and forgetting the names of his children. But alas, you can’t judge a book by its cover.
There’s also another Mavericks player who looks like his hair is hanging on by a thread every time he runs. I couldn’t tell you which player he is, and I don’t care enough to Google. (Editor’s note: She is talking about Dereck Lively II.)
Being from South Dakota, where I’m pretty sure the closest professional sports teams are a six-hour drive away in Denver, people don’t get super excited about one specific event like I witnessed Monday night.
We South Dakotans pick and choose which team we root for. We don’t have a home-team obligation. There’s never one single game that the whole Town of Spearfish is shut down for.
I commend the greater Bostonians for being so dedicated to their home teams, and am excited to be living in a city that has just won a championship.
While I had fun basking in the glory of my new favorite NBA team, I still don’t care enough about basketball to keep tabs.
So, until the next time the Celtics are in the very last few games of the Finals, I’ll leave the sports talk to the professionals and stick to pop culture and random ramblings, where I belong.
