Oops, he did it again
Of course Paul Pierce was going to take his time.
That stubborn deliberateness with which he’s able to get to his spot at his pace has always been his calling card; his contribution to the uniqueness of greatness. Pierce’s basketball CV reads like a case study of dichotomies: neither fast nor fast looking, yet spry enough to have routinely meandered past 2s and 3s alike for the better part of 17 years; neither hulking nor brawny, yet strong enough to have gone head to head with every iteration of LeBron over the last decade-plus; neither quiet nor humble, yet badass enough to call his shot and cold-blooded enough to make it time and again.
And as we now know, longevity is also one of his virtues. Pierce has been herking and jerking and pivoting and daggering his way through the NBA since the Clinton administration, which was around the same time he was bestowed with a nickname that would prove both prescient and lasting.
He hung 46 on Iverson’s 76ers in a winner-take-all Game 5 in his first playoff series. He scored 19 as part of a 21-point fourth-quarter comeback in Game 3 of the Eastern Conference Finals against the Nets that same spring of 2002. He squared up Kobe in his prime and tore from his grasp the final piece of hardware Bryant coveted after three title runs alongside MVP Shaq. He’s going to go down as LeBron’s most intense and only true rival.
And now, a full seven years after he captured his first and only championship and 13 years since he officially made Boston start believing it had found its next Pantheon Celtic, he splashed together arguably his masterpiece. It’s appropriate that his regular-season disappearance and subsequent sleight of hand into and through the playoffs came for a team deemed the Wizards, as his act had all the elements of a superb magic trick: it simultaneously wowed us, defied sensibility and left us wanting more.
Long before he called “Game!” and “Series!”
It was a striking and scathing preamble that had Pierce loyalists quietly smirking while casual fans hastily tapped at their smartphones to verify that the guy was even still in the league. And then at the creaking age of 37, he grabbed the mic and delivered his address over the course of a 10-game playoff run that can aptly be summarized as American Sniper on hardwood: His performance was riveting, divisive and he made certain to answer for every shot he took.
As for the shots themselves, were they ever plentiful. First came the Raptors, against whom he reprised his role as mercenary boogeyman of the north, rendering “Jurassic Park” extinct for the second straight year in a second set of threads.
Next up were the Hawks, a team Pierce once used as a perennial stepping stone to loftier goals and, most recently, one that would help him stamp his legacy as an all-time playoff assassin while staking his claim as the Vine king du jour. His buzzer-beating bank shot won Game 3, rescued the Wizards from a monumental fourth-quarter collapse and gave him celebrity status across the social-mediaverse. Then came his go-ahead three-pointer in the waning seconds of Game 5 – along with that subsequent premature salvo to the Atlanta bench – a parlay of vintage Pierce dramatics that was promptly reduced to a footnote because no Washington player could corral a game-sealing rebound.
Which brings us to Game 6, Pierce’s worst of the postseason by any measure. He had missed six of his seven field goal attempts, including a wide-open three with two minutes remaining that could have stretched Washington’s lead to four points. His shots had hit the front of the rim on multiple occasions, a tell-tale sign of heavy legs. For the first time, it looked like the 1,408 games on his NBA odometer were finally taking their toll. Yet when the Wizards improbably found themselves with a last-gasp chance to tie the game with six seconds left after a Hawks turnover and a missed free throw, everyone and their mothers inside the Verizon Center knew who would be getting the basketball.
The play was slow developing from the outset. By the time Pierce got the ball coming off a delayed screen, there was only 1.7 seconds left. Despite initially being flanked by Hawks on either side of him, he managed to slither into the corner and bury a fading game-tying trey off one leg. His internal clock is as finely tuned as there is – and to hell with anyone who has ever thwarted him from getting a good look before the buzzer – but replays revealed that the horn sounded about five one-hundreths of a second before the ball left his hand.
Was that his final shot? Did that odometer finally get the best of him? Perhaps. What was clear is he had emptied the chamber, both physically and mentally, maybe more so than any 10-game sample of his career. He admitted as much during a postgame interview in which he hinted at retirement. If it was indeed his outro, it will go down as a fitting encapsulation of “the Truth.” Dazzling. Clutch. And naturally he took his time.
Aside from Year 1, when it all went according to plan – the 66 regular-season wins, the silencing of LeBron Part I, the evisceration of the Lakers and accompanying NBA championship – nothing has come easy for the Green. Garnett’s knee injury halted the title defense; Kendrick Perkins’ torn ACL cost Boston another ring at the expense of LA in 2010; the Perkins trade gutted “Ubuntu” last year, and Rondo’s hyperextended elbow put to rest any notion of challenging the Heat in the playoffs.
must-see television 19 or 26 times annually. ESPN and Fox salivated all over it. Passionate followers cleared their schedules and did everything they could to score the hottest ticket in town. Casual fans tuned in because, hell, anything could happen. No matter who you were, Red Sox-Yankees always found a way to find you.
suffocated the suddenly overmatched Bulls all night.
points in their careers, and run with it for the next three to five. The time is now. For once, that mantra employed by the Celtics’ Beantown counterparts, the Red Sox and Patriots, has been reciprocated by the Green.
the court on a nightly basis, hell or high water. Now he’s going to be playing in a house that won’t be wondering if he’ll blow the roof off; no, they’ll be expecting it every night. And that first evening when he’s formally introduced and the entire waterfront shakes, like all athletes in new places, he’ll want to savor that moment and freeze it in time, because he’ll have to believe it will be next to impossible to rival it. So it goes for athletes previously foreign to Boston. Just wait until the first shot he hits. The first big swat he records. His first 20-20 game. His first deft dish to Paul for an overtime dagger. Just wait, KG, just wait.
ever-fading tradition. Then some pieces of s–t tried to take that away from us in 2001, tried to murder our first star in more than ten years. Not only did they fail, not only did Paul survive 11 stab wounds but he returned to lead the Celtics to 49 wins and their first birth in the playoffs since Larry Legend. They won nine games that postseason, all thanks to Paul. His surreal decisive-Game 5 (46 points) in the first round against Allen Iverson and the 76ers was one-upped only by his pantheon performance in the Fleet Center’s first Eastern Conference Finals game against New Jersey. In that contest the Celtics entered the fourth quarter trailing by 21 points. Paul responded by playing the most jaw-dropping 12 minutes of basketball I’ve ever seen, slashing into that deficit with 19 points of his own to win the game and snag a slice of history. That one playoff run, with those two games intertwined, was good enough to place Paul at the top of lists in Celtics-record books co-populated by some of the greatest and most prolific champions in the history of the game.
off a stretch in his career where he wasn’t given a whole lot to work with in the jungle that is the West. Like Paul he never complained, always played with a smile on his face and continued being the long range assassin that he’s been since he took to the hardwood. And like Paul, he plays with a distinct passion and rises to the occasion when the occasion warrants it (translation: when the game’s on the line he wants that rock). All and all he’s the guy Paul deserves to have as his wingman and yes, while it would’ve been nice if this had happened five years ago, I have news for you: it didn’t. Nothing has happened in the past five years and no one knows that better than Paul. Furthermore, unlike colleagues of similar stature he’s never used his spotlight to shake down front offices and toss around ultimatums, and when he’s called for change he’s done so respectfully. Granted, at times he’s been angry, but he’s only human, not to mention a fierce competitor who tasted a morsel of postseason glory as an up and comer.