When I was a little kid (mid-eighties), the Celtics played a key roll in my never ending quest to stay up as late as possible. Sometimes, if my dad was really into the game, and my mom was in the other room, I would stay extra quiet and make it to halftime. When we played the Sixers I would fall asleep to the sweet sounds of Celtics radio. I had no idea who the announcer was at the time, but I could see the action as my head rested on the pillow. Inept management, fading legends and tragedy drove me away from the Celtics in the early-to-mid nineties, and college took me out of broadcast range later that decade. I fell back in love right around the turn of the century, and have missed fewer games in the last five years than the Captain.
All that said, I have never been so proud of this team as I am right now. These guys are breaking their backs to defend a title that all reasonable observers say cannot be defended. Rondo has a gimpy ankle, Pierce is clearly favoring one leg, our first and second string power forwards are out, and our 7-10 guys on the bench have played a combined 132 games in Green this season.
We have no business taking this Bulls team to seven.
But here we are, and I am legitimately scared about tonight's outcome. If this were a movie like Braveheart or Last Samurai, we would expect our heroes to finish victorious - even though we know they are destined to die bravely. I am greedy because I want William Wallace and Katsumoto to achieve ultimate victory - another championship. But knowing that they cannot, a small part of me would rather go down fighting to the end in one of the most memorable series in playoff history - we do not stand much of a chance in Round 2, and I would hate to see our guys get beat up and knocked down after such a brave display in Round 1.