When the Mighty Fall

  

The Boston Celtics were incredibly fortunate to win the NBA title in 2008. They had a pair of trades that gave them the top end talent they required. Their young players blossomed into excellent role players. They required 26 of a possible 28 games to get through the playoffs, allowing lesser teams to drag out playoff series instead of being able to end them quickly. Essentially, for one year, anything that could go their way did. Considering that they were thought to have a window of 2-4 years to win a title beginning with the 2007-2008 season, the future looked promising.

After they achieved a 27-2 record to start the 2008-2009 season, discussion moved from that of a repeat to the possibility of them becoming one of the greatest teams of all time. Rondo was becoming the All-Star he is today, the big three were continuing their All-NBA form, and in spite of losing their glue-guy in Posey, their bench, particularly Powe, Perkins, and Davis, was excellent.

A rough mid-season stretch seemed to indicate that there was reason for concern, but that was quickly forgotten with a 12 game win streak. Seven games later, Kevin Garnett suffered a season ending knee injury, and in spite of the Celtics strong play down the stretch without him, it was clear that Garnett’s absence removed any possibility of a Celtics repeat. If he could heal and come back to his 2008 form, though, title contention in 2010 and possibly 2011 seemed to be a formality.

The NBA, though, is not kind to worn bodies, and in a sport where a couple inches is the difference in many a play, Garnett losing more than a couple on his vertical coupled with being a step slower saw him return as a shell of himself. Allen has slipped a bit from last season as well, and the role players who once so eagerly followed the big three now seek to usurp them, sensing that it is their time to shine.

The team is currently having an identity crisis. Paul Pierce remains their rock, playing at a high level in spite of his advancing age. Rondo has been similarly excellent, and has in fact been the Celtics’ best player, but he has to reconcile that with his prior role as subordinate to his more veteran teammates. Garnett has not accepted that he has lost a step, Davis and Perkins grumble about playing time, and Allen is simply not the player he was, and is being aggressively shopped to other teams in hopes of bringing back talent for his expiring contract. In short, they are one of many teams that have no hope of winning a title this year, barring a dramatic trade.

These developments bother me for two reasons.

There are only so many captivating players and teams in the league. While the talent pool is deeper than it has been in quite some time, collections of talent with such celebrated and noteworthy histories are limited to a few organizations. The Celtics are one such team. Pierce was busy keeping the team relevant for the last decade, a beacon of hope for an otherwise miserably bad team. Allen was one of the best shooting guards in the NBA annually, a player whose bravado and confidence made his better teams extremely fun to watch.

Then, of course, there was Garnett. A player whose gifts are so unique and plentiful that it defied reason when he exited the playoffs quickly and quietly on an annual basis. It seemed that the player who exemplified professionalism, commitment to defense, and intensity was simply unable to elevate his teammates through his own play.

When Garnett was traded to the Celtics, he got a new lease on life, and immediately used his considerable social capital to mold the team in his image. Allen and Pierce, players not known for their defense, bought in to his commitment on that end of the floor, which then permeated the entire team. They were on a mission, and relentless defense was their battle plan.

For the rest of the year, no team was more close-knit, supportive of their teammates, or committed to the same goal. While I am far from a Celtics fan, when they won the title, it felt right to me. They had gone about their business in a most professional and admirable way, and each of their rather likable All-Stars now had the crucial championship that completed their resumes.

The following year, every team in the league hated the Celtics. Their swagger bothered their opponents, and every game was a ferocious battle to prove that they were still as hungry as they had been the year prior. They proved to be an admirable foe for both the Bulls and Magic in the playoffs, and while they were ultimately eliminated, they fought valiantly to the bitter end and were immensely fun to watch.

With their current decline, that element of rivalry and competitiveness is gone. They are a neutered version of the team that aroused such ire in their opponents, as pathetic as a boxer that refuses to know when they should give it up. The NBA needs more rivalries and bad blood, not less. Losing the Celtics as we knew them, combined with Orlando’s erratic play, makes Cleveland a prohibitive favorite in the East, and likely means that their competition on the way to the finals will be little more than a speed bump. That may lead to the coronation of Lebron the league so desperately desires, but the ease with which it appears it will come will likely prove anti-climactic in comparison to the slugfests we have seen the last two seasons, which is a pity.

The second reason is one that is much more tied up in sentiment than entertainment. The Celtics weren’t just a collection of talent that was well suited to one another. They were a team in every sense of the word. Kevin Garnett, sensing that this was his last opportunity to absolve himself of the sin of playoff failure, sought to create a team in his image. He convinced his fellow All-Stars to commit to defense with the same ferocity and reckless abandon that he practiced. When they bought in, he then convinced the rest of the team, largely an array of late draft picks and veteran free agents, to make the same commitment.

From that point on, everything he did on the court, his teammates mimicked. He swatted away shots after a foul was called. His teammates did the same. He protected the rim with a fanatical fury. His teammates learned to never give up easy baskets. Garnett stood and cheered his teammates from the bench when he was not playing. Soon they cheered constantly for the starters, until the entire team essentially refused to sit while the game was being played.

All of these things lend themselves to the idea that one man, with enough heart and vision, can mold a collective in his image. Garnett had the exact combination of experience and ability to achieve such a dream, and the result was the team he wanted to play for his entire career.

There is a reason these things rarely happen. When players are young, regardless of their talent, they lack the leadership skills requisite for getting a team to follow them. As they grow, they become more capable of both playing and leading well, but there are still only a handful of players whose ability garners them universal respect, and amongst them there are only so many with the ability or desire to lead. Combine this with the necessity of having teammates who are not only like-minded but also talented, and it becomes apparent why such special teams come about so rarely.

Garnett needed 12 seasons and a change of scenery to get his chance, and he made the most of it. He embodied what so many of us want to see in ourselves: a man whose vision and drive are contagious to the point that our peers feel compelled to follow our lead. It is the ultimate manifestation of leadership and competence, proof that not only are we qualified to perform our duties, but so qualified and so persuasive that we can do it in the exact manner that we choose while pushing both subordinate and peer alike to better exemplify the example we set.

Which is why the end of this referendum on leadership is so unfortunate. Only a select few players and situations lend themselves to these results. Losing one such team reminds us not only of how special they are, but how fleeting that victory really is. Whether it is an erosion of our skills, a failure to push ourselves to maintain our standards of excellence, the jealousy of our peers or the ambitions of our pupils, ultimately even the most perfect pillar of teamwork and leadership will fall under its own weight. Its construction was merely a temporary triumph, as long for this world as a sand castle at high tide. In the end, our endeavors will, with few exceptions, ultimately fail to stand the test of time.

I’m just glad I could enjoy it while it lasted.

Image via Melancholiac

You can email Chris with questions or comments at TheSportsKiosK@gmail.com