By DRJ
Two and a half years ago, one Daniel Ainge met with the Devil in Boston, Massachusetts. The fineness of that summer day would belie the great and terrible events that would unfold in its wake.
And
the Devil said: “I will give you Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen, but you
must agree to give up ALL your promising young players and draft picks,
and since I am a fair demon, I must warn you that if you do this, the
Big Three will eat up almost all your cap space, and you will not be
able to get more than one top-flight player for at least the next three
years.”
Danny replied: “I don’t give a damn.” (He was always eloquent.)
“Ok,”
spat the Devil, smoke swirling around him. “But once before a member of
your clan bested me out of a contract, so I am not taking any chances
with you. I am giving you fair warning: though you may win a title in
2008, your top 4 vets in 2009-2010 will be quite old, much more subject
to injury than ever before, and at least one of them will be a little
nuts. No complaints later, got that?!”
“Yep. Do it, Devil.”
After
Danny signed the contract in blood, the Devil rose up and fumed: “You
will have one great year. God made me promise that (goddammit). But
wait till 09-10! I will have your soul yet, Daniel! You will beg me to
buy it when your whole team suffers injury after injury… which they
will, I assure you, because I have placed a block in the mind of Doc
Rivers. He will run your vets and your point guard to the ground, and
he will never use his youngsters when it counts or when he should. I
made sure of that, sir! Oh yeah, and I also made sure that, from time
to time, the whole team will forget everything they ever knew about
defense, that Eddie will miss every relevant 3 he takes, and Sheed will
turn useless at the worst possible times. Let’s see you win a
championship then! Ha ha ha!!”
Danny
was frozen with fear, but decided he must not let the Devil see it.
Walking away from the table, he turned and shouted: “Do your worst,
David… I mean DEVIL. I fear you not, for I have an ace up my sleeve
which you cannot touch because he’s not a Celtic yet. Stephon Marbury
will save us!!!”
And the Devil chuckled. He chuckled again later that day, changing into his earthly secret identity, when he remembered Danny’s mad shout. Then he put on his glasses, and walked out to meet the press.
