I flew 3000 miles to Los Angeles with my 19-month old son, both of us wearing #5 Celtics jerseys, on the day of game 7 of the Finals. Our first flight was cancelled because the windshield broke on the plane we were to fly. Delta had no replacement flights that could get us there before game time, so we shelled out a bunch more money to Southwest and had several airport adventures before we could finally get there.
My son and I walked into the Staples Center wearing those jerseys, and boldly walked into a section where we were utterly surrounded by Purple and Gold.
We proudly watched our squad make their stand, and every Lakers fan in our vicinity was sick at the prospect of facing us after a Green win.
We had to watch, surrounded by the enemy, as our squad came up just short. We had to take the gloating from all of those Laker lovers who minutes before had been wetting their pants. We had to walk out with our heads held high while an entire stadium celebrated. We had to walk out, still wearing Celtics jerseys, into the LA night that would soon be trashed by idiots celebrating the win. And then we had to spend an entire **** WEEK in the LA area where you couldn't turn on the tv, the radio, or even walk down the daggone street without some yahoo yelling about how great Kobe and the Lakers were.
I bet all of my TPs on a Cs win, as well as spent a stupid amount of money and brought my baby boy with me to support the ideal of #18. Give me my TPs back. I deserve them. That is all.