By now we are all quite familiar with the maddening inconsistency of Rajon Rondo. It is difficult, as a Celtics fan, not to be rabidly in love with him (as a player, of course) for the magical things he does when he is at the peak of his game. It is equally difficult, however, not to become sick with disgust and frustration when he comes out and lays a steaming rotten goose egg -- especially so since we're all familiar with the wonders he sometimes wields.
As Rondo goes, so go the Celtics. We have heard that over and over. It is important to recognize that this is as much an indictment of this team as it is a piece of praise: Rondo is both the Celtics' only hope for a title this year and beyond, and its greatest obstacle to overcome in getting there. Rajon Rondo is indeed the Celtics' best player, and any team that seeks to contend for a title is measured by the stature of its best player. Unfortunately for the Celtics, though Rondo always stands at 6 feet and change, there are days when Rondo is a towering colossus and others when he is hardly taller than a toy soldier.
Celtics fans cannot be blamed for going through cycles of love and hate with Rondo; we can neither fully commit to him nor completely shun him, for we know all too well that as well as he plays one day, he can always come out the very next day and look like a lost rookie, and visa versa.
I can't help but question the wisdom of consigning ourselves to this perpetual cycle for the foreseeable future, though. Whether the Celtics win #18 this year or not, the fact is our team is at the mercy of Rondo's mercurial nature -- as a basketball player and as a person, both of which affect his production on the court and the team around him. What other team in history has successfully relied so heavily on a player who can so easily flit between utter dominance and utter mediocrity, who can look like a top 10, top 5, even an MVP caliber player for a stretch of games and then turn into a pumpkin when the clock strikes midnight, so to speak, a day or two later?