Celtics Take 1-0 Lead Over Heat: "Two Comedians"

The Celtics won the first game of their first round series with the Heat by a score of 85-76.  The best player on the floor was clearly Dwyane Wade, who put together a stat line of 26 points, 8 rebounds, 6 assists, and 7 turnovers.  Paul Pierce once again showed off his fragility, whether it was due to his delicate physical state or needy emotional character is up for debate. KG elbowed ever closer to the status of a crotchety old man at the Y, growing more and more frustrated with the loss of his own athleticism and, therefore, his own importance, and, somehow, the real catalyst for these theatrics was the long lost court jester, Quentin Richardson, who found the inspiration (testicular fortitude) to take on the spineless role of Iago and whisper sweet nothings in the ear of KG.  KG's response got him suspended.  The Playoffs are clearly upon us, and this scene from Saturday night deserves its own Ed Hopper piece:

Romeo, played by a Kevin Garnett believed by some to be too old for the starring role, holds Juliet's head in his hands and weeps.  Juliet is played by an aging star as well, Paul Pierce, who has a reputation as a great actor in scenes containing the bed cousins of life and death, and even the occasional resurrection.  However, Pierce falters in scenes of the mundane, appearing bitter and cross that not every moment of his career can be seen as dramatic as bearing a cross on his way to the grave and, ultimately, his greatest triumph.  

In fact, Pierce's favorite role in his long career, that exists somewhere in the cloudy realm of better than good but not quite great, is the time he played Jesus in a Hollywood version of Jesus Christ Superstar.    The production was also the first time Pierce teamed up with Garnett, who played the part of the Virgin Mary.  Critics hailed the film as a real life example of the Immaculate Conception, or something out of nothing; after all, the cast did not even meet before shooting started, much less rehearse.  The chemistry between the two stars and their supporting cast was uncanny, as they and their agents had followed a bright star to Boston where a majority of the film took place.  Rajon Rondo was stunning as a more than tempting Mary Magdalene and Ray Allen possessed the knack of disappearing and then reappearing, with burro in hand, as the thankless, always mortal, father figure, Joseph, in The Greatest Story Ever Told.  

The film was an artistic achievement, as well as a box office smash, and the careers of the cast were finally embraced by a pantheon of past greats, that didn't seem to mind even the most expletive filled Awards speeches by Garnett, forgiving each f-word from out the Madonna's mouth as a sigh of relief that all her hard work and difficult choices, such as leaving the place of her birth, were not in vein.  Times were good, and most believed more were on their way, but the group's follow-up effort to their Biblical epic (fans loved their 2009 version of The Big Chill, while critics wondered why the most talented Celtic was cast as a dead man, whose scenes were cut from the final version, even if his death brought out the most from everyone else).  The epilogues of epic myths are often underwhelming in comparison to the stories that birthed them.

Now, the ensemble is reunited, and Kevin, his limbs trembling, cries into his Paul's closed eyes: "Oh, here/ Will I set up my everlasting rest/ And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars/ From this world-wearied flesh./ Eyes, look your last!/ Arms, take your--"

Paul jerks to life, wincing in pain, "Dude! don't squeeze my shoulder so hard!  I told ya'll I hurt it in dress rehearsal putting on my corset."  Kevin stares into Paul's now wild eyes, not knowing how to handles his co-star's ad-lib, whether to kiss him and die or to walk off the stage and say forget the whole thing, neither of us is a teenager anyway.  

"Man, this is terrible.  The lines aren't right.  Casting's terrible.  'Sheed's the only one pulling off his role as Mercutio, which means he's just gotta run his mouth," comes a voice from the front row, which Kevin and Paul can not see because of the stage lights.  "I should have listened to Joakim.  Ya'll lost whatever it is after spendin' last year singin' 'Ain't Too Proud to Beg' like you were a bunch of Kevin Klein's."  The voice, full of frustration, sounds exactly like Quentin Richardson and pauses to let the insults sink in, just long enough for someone to throw an elbow, but even Kevin's long arms can not reach all the way to the front row, if only he were closer.  "That's it.  I'm outta here.  I'm goin' to see Michael Bay's Transformers 3, starring LeBron and Shaq.  It'll be overhyped, but at least it's got some bad ass robots."    

The rest of the crowd erupts in applause.  After nearly an hour and a half, Quentin's monologue is the first genuine acting of the night.  Kevin can hear them picking up their things.  He can hear them moving to the ends of their aisles.  Here he is on the biggest stage in the world, playing one of the greatest parts in history, and the crowd doesn't even have the decency to watch him die--they'd rather follow this harlequin out the door to see some Hollywood bastardization of what was once a great '80s cartoon show.  Kevin can't stand it.  His eyes boil over with hatred.  All of his injuries, all of his pain, all the years of feeling like no one noticed him, he sees it all parading in front of him, following Quentin Richardson, as if Quentin were a pied piper leading all the snakes in Eden.  Kevin leaps off the stage screaming, throwing elbows, biting, pulling and pushing his way through the crowd.  They grab at him.  They try and stop him.  But somebody will die tonight.  It doesn't have to be Romeo.  It doesn't have to be Juliet.  All Kevin knows is that this play is a tragedy, and, as Kevin moves through the theatre like a tank in Tiananmen Square, a calm voice arises over the chaos, "For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."  The voice is that of Dwyane Wade's, a man accustomed to getting the last word.