I thought about writing a blog post about the Boston Celtics’ World Championship (read that again…World Championship) after the game early Wednesday morning. I decided, rightly, that I would be better off just leaving it to the professionals and giving my thoughts on Friday (today). So here they are:

Wow. We’ve seen blowout Super Bowls. The Bears beat the Patriots by 45 points in 1986. We see blowouts in baseball games. Rarely do you see NBA Finals games like what we saw Tuesday night. It was just as much a matter of the Lakers coming out flat as it was the Celtics coming out throwing haymakers. Late in the 4th quarter, when the game started to resemble an NBA Rookies/Sophomores game, I wanted the Celtics to throw Bill Russell, Hondo, JoJo White, Tommy Heinson, and Brian Scalabrine out on the court to play the Lakers. I don’t think we would have seen much difference. The Lakers didn’t decide that it was necessary to play hard and I was glad that the great Wycliffe Grousbeck didn’t effuse false praise on the Lakers for being an other-worldly foe who laid their blood and guts on the floor to win. Because the Lakers didn’t do that. They played the game like their fans cheered for it. Sitting on their fat hands, counting their money, and waiting for it all to be over.

I love hustle, in all of its forms. I like when Jay-Z raps about hustlin’. I like walking briskly. And I love it when sports teams play like their asses are on fire. I especially love it when they continue playing like that when they’re up by forty points in a basketball game, while their opponent plays like their enemy’s house is on fire; standing around apathetically, wondering what they should do.

I will never forget this series. I will never forget the Game 4 comeback. My favorite game of the series. How could it not have been? The Celtics came back from down 24 to win in Los Angeles. Game 2 was nerve-racking in the fourth quarter. But exciting when they pulled it out in the end. Game 1 had Paul Pierce’s knee injury (say what you’d like of it). Game 3 was forgettable, beyond that the Lakers won the game. There was nothing great about the game. Game 5 was frustrating; The NBA clearly urging their officials to stretch the series to a sixth game. And Game 6 was just fun. It was a 48 minute celebration of the Celtics franchise. It was a 48 minute party with 18,000 friends acting like fans should: standing, chanting, yelling, and celebrating. We got to see Tony Allen, who looks like he’d be better suited as a member of the Cash Money Millionaires. You have Glen Davis, who Amanda is convinced is slightly retarded. We got Perk and his shoulder band-aids. And then we got the unsung heroes of this series: Leon Powe, Eddie House, and, more so, James Posey. Posey could have won the MVP of this series if not for Paul Pierce’s career-altering and career-making series. Posey was instant energy. Putting James Posey in the game was like drinking 2 speed-laced Red Bulls. I hope to God that he’s back next season.

Paul Pierce deserves his own paragraph and an apology from me, not that he cares. Anyone who knows me well knows that I have never supported Paul Pierce. I have called for him to be traded as recently as the beginning of this year. I have said, “The Celtics will never win a championship with Paul Pierce.” Quoted. I’ve said that. I was never a fan of Pierce’s sulking. I kept thinking back to 2005 when Paul Pierce showed up to a press conference after Game 6 against Indiana with medical tape wrapped around his head. And I kept thinking that this guy had been stabbed 11 times. Generally, you don’t get stabbed that much unless you’ve done something wrong, not that it’s right to stab anyone for their wrongs. And most importantly, I kept thinking about all of the 10 second Paul Pierce possessions, whereby Paul would bring the ball up the court, dribble for a few seconds, and launch a 22-foot fade-away jumper, inevitably missing it. When Antoine Walker was around, I wanted ‘Toine, not the Truth, who I referred to as “The Lie.”

Maybe Pierce played like he did in the playoffs during the regular season. I wouldn’t know. I only got to watch the Celtics when they were on ESPN or TNT, what with the whole “Living In Washington DC” thing. The Paul Pierce that I saw in the playoffs was a very different Pierce. He played great defense. He didn’t spend the whole game taking pull up or fade-away jumpers. Pierce slashed to the basket. He took on 3 defenders. He passed to open teammates. He drew fouls. He made his free throws. He played harder than I’ve ever seen him play. He became “The Truth.” Without him, the Celtics would not have gotten past Atlanta. With him, they won the championship that I never thought they could. And I was wrong. And for that I apologize.

Apologies are also in order for Doc Rivers. There are people who are saying that he didn’t outcoach Phil Jackson. That he just had a more motivated team. HELLO! That’s coaching in the NBA! Phil Jackson could not motivate his team to want to give everything to win a title. If the Celtics were a bunch of citrus fruit, Doc Rivers was able to squeeze as much juice out of them as he could. And that’s great coaching in my opinion. His X’s and O’s were still pretty horrendous. They kept running the same screen-and-roll play. Tom Thibodeau is the coaching savant here, not Doc Rivers. But a huge kudos to Doc Rivers for being a great motivator.

When the Celtics made the Kevin Garnett trade, there was a part of me that didn’t think it would get them over the hump. I mean, it was the Celtics. Danny Ainge and Doc Rivers were central figures in the everyday running of the team. But Danny Ainge brought in great role players, like Posey, House, and PJ Brown. And Doc lit a fire under his team. And Ray Allen hit his shots. And Paul Pierce became a leader before our eyes. And Kevin Garnett pounded his chest and screamed, “AHHHHHHHHHH!” And Rajon Rondo overcame his glaring faults by showing us his great talent defensively and his ability to slash and kick.

This was the perfect team. There was no Dino Radja. There was no Jerome Moiso. There was no Sherman Douglas. There was no Greg Minor. There was no Pervis Ellison. No Marty Conlon, Todd Day, or Alton Lister. This was a team with great role players, who recognized their role. And when one guy was off, a teammate picked up their game and tried to compensate. Like any team, they had their flaws. The key was that they didn’t exploit their own flaws, like some lesser teams do. Rarely do we see a team like this in sports. A team that clearly loved each other. Eddie House would go to war for Glen Davis, who would go to war for Ray Allen who would go to war for James Posey, and on and on. Over the course of a 108 game season, when one man fell, two men picked him up. The model for “team” won the NBA Championship this year. And I, no we, couldn’t be happier that it was the Boston Celtics. Our Boston Celtics. Our World Champions.