Megliola: Emotions ran high with Garnett

Tag : punched mesh

He was the tallest of them all, and the most tightly wound. He isnot a kid. Kevin Garnett is 32. For 12 years he labored for theMinnesota Timberwolves, mostly in vain. They never made it to evenone NBA Finals.
Garnett was no different, emotionally, when he played out there.Pumped. High-strung. Scary even, in his moods, the wide-eyed,possessed look he took on just before a game was to start.
We didn't see much of that around here. The Timberwolves would onlycome to Boston once a year. The Celtics and Wolves never met in theplayoffs. We knew Garnett was a great player. He kept makingAll-Star teams. But we didn't really know him.
Now we do. We learned that, yes, he is possessed. We saw it for 106games. Every game, no change. Garnett had his home-game rituals.Before heading out to the floor, he'd pick up a can of powder atthe scorer's table, shake the contents on the palms of his hands,and then clap, those long mitts sending up a white cloud into thefaces of Mike Gorman and Tom Heinsohn. Every night. They knew itwas coming.
Before the jump ball, Garnett fist-punched all five opposingplayers, then walked halfway to the baseline to his right - no, hedidn't walk, he skipped, like a little kid - pounding his chest,and letting out a yell, a war cry. Before the ball was tossed uphe'd point a forefinger at the three refs, one at a time. It wasalmost as if Garnett was saying, Okay fellas, I'm ready.
Every night, Kevin Garnett was ready to play. If you didn't knowhim, you'd think he was too jacked. Overripe.
He came to the Celtics knowing this was his last basketballdestiny, his last chance at winning a title. Here's where thepressure comes in. Garnett knew he was the source of the optimismthat a team that hadn't even made the playoffs the previous twoyears and had won just 24 games last year, a team that hadn't won atitle in 22 years, could win one this time. He was the reason. Andit sort of had to be this year.
That was the weight of the world the Celtics carried around, and itweighed heaviest on Garnett.
He knew about the Celtics' legacy. He was a fan of the game, of thebusiness in which he made a very, very handsome living. He mightnot have been able to tell you how many championships the Celticshad won, but he knew it was a lot and that it started long beforehe was born.
It did not take him long to get swept up in a) the Celtics gloriouspast and b) the time elapsed since they last were on top of theworld. The ghosts from the past, guys like Bill Russell, Bob Cousy,John Havlicek, Jo Jo White and Heinsohn would be around to remindGarnett of the new world he was entering.
"They explained the tradition," said Garnett. "It'slike coming into a frat. They let you know right away that it'sabout tradition here, and it's about team."
He liked it. He liked it all. "That's right up my alley,"he said. "I've never been a selfish guy or a selfish player.It was so motivating coming (to practice) every day with thebanners on the wall and seeing the ex-players come in and watchingyou practice."
It all meant one thing to Garnett. Just one. "There's so muchresponsibility putting that jersey on. I don't think you guysunderstand how much responsibility there is to carry the tradition.Celtics pride."
Actually, we did understand. While Garnett was trying mightily tomake something of the Timberwolves, Celtics ownerships, coaches,players and fans wondered if the glory train had left the stationforever. If anyone could bring it back, they'd be worshipped.They'd hold a parade for these people.
They got it done. The parade was Thursday. It's not fair to theother players to say that there wouldn't have been a parade, thatthe Celtics wouldn't have won the championship without Garnett. Notfair. But can we at least agree that Garnett made the Celticswhole?
Garnett's no fool. He knew if Danny Ainge was sage enough to unitehim with Paul Pierce and Ray Allen, then the Celtics were deadserious about making a run at a title. Now everyone wanted to seehow the three of them would mesh, how this would work. Garnett,Pierce and Allen were curious too.
"We said 'no more excuses,"' said Garnett. "We saidfrom day one this was Paul's team. Ray and I had no problem withthat. Doc (Rivers) let us know that the three of us were going tohave to sacrifice.
"I thought the three of us did that."
Yep, and it was a beautiful thing to see. Unselfish basketballplayed by three guys who would be Hall-of-Famers one day. Aingeleft no stone unturned. His Blackberry kept going all last summer.He signed Eddie House. He signed James Posey. Once the seasonstarted, he bought two rocking chairs and signed P.J. Brown and SamCassell. They had their moments, especially Brown.
"You could see our team maturing," said Garnett.
The main focus was on Garnett, Pierce and Allen. They had to makethis work.
"I thought we did a real good job of dialoguing," saidGarnett, "talking among the three of us, figuring it out. Itwasn't egos. It wasn't about who was going to get the lastshot."
The Celtics were miffed that they didn't end The Finals in L.A., inGame 5. "That slipped right through our fingers," saidGarnett. He'd had a bad game, and vowed to do much better in Game6.
He did. Twenty-six points.
After the game, Garnett soaked it all up, the roar of the crowd,the championship trophy in his hands, the confetti descending likesnowflakes. So much was crossing his mind. When he had a moment tothink, at least he knew this. "I'll be forever linked to thiscity, and I'm more than grateful for that."
He's not the only one.
(Lenny Megliola is a Daily News columnist. His e-mail islennymegs@aol.com)