In At Least One Rivalry, The Players Want To Kill Each Other



Man, the passion of the Celtics’ hatred for the Heat is something else. The Celtics hate like they're on a reality show. Like they don’t have a championship of their own to fall back on, one that’s only a few years old. No, the Celtics don’t care, and in particular, Paul Pierce, Kevin Garnett, and Rajon Rondo do [pause] not [pause] care. Every LeBron James basket is an insult, every Dwyane Wade block, every goofy Shane Battier defensive stop, and especially every Ray Allen three — I mean, every Ray Allen three is like a loogie hawked into the Celtics’ eye. It’s beautiful, the intensity of Boston’s hate; in fact, it’s almost purifying, in that it creates the first likeable Boston sports team outside of Boston since the Red Sox were plucky underdogs that came from behind and shocked the world and inspired women to wear pink hats. After all, Boston went out and remade their lineup — they brought in Jared Sullinger, Jason Terry, and Courtney Lee — largely because of how they'd match up against the Heat. You can’t hate a team that tries so hard, except when it’s your team they’re trying hard against. In which case, there’s nothing worse.