I'd like to single you out and thank you personally for last night's stellar overtime game.
This isn't crazy news to you buddy, but this year's playoffs have been boring. A one way ticket on the Yawn-train to Snoozeville. In fact, things looked so bleak the NBA was all but ready to pass out a Lakers/Celtics contingency schedule. Already. But I'm sure you already knew that.
Your series had merely been an extension of this disappointing play. Not on the Celtics behalf, of course; you and the men in green came to play. The Magic, though, did not show up, displaying an incredible level of apathy in the first three games. But in Game four? Your nemesis, The Magic, came out playing like they should have always played.
And it's all thanks to you.
My friend Jason has a joke about you: "Not only does Kevin Garnett talk in caps, he THINKS in caps." It's totally true. You are, for lack of a better word, bat-shit-intense (Please don't kill me, man! That's how much you're into it; a one-word description of your intensity has to be stretched to three words). You care a lot. You are a barker. When your eyes are wide and bearing down on the ball, I fear for that ball's life. Put it this way: if I had kids, I wouldn't hire you as a baby sitter. No offense. Again, please don't kill me.
A quiet, reflective moment for Mr. Garnett.
But when you over-reacted to Dwight Howard boxing you out in the third quarter by throwing a fit, swinging those bony elbows, and seething with that jaw clenched at Matt Barnes (can't blame you there), you forced the playoffs to turn a corner. From that moment on, after you got T'd up, your sleepy fans at the Garden awoke. And things got chippy.
More importantly, you gave the Magic something to care about; a reason to get fired up. Sure, that may not sound like a good reason to thank you, because I'm certainly no Magic fan and seeing Orlando win wouldn't exactly define my summer. But I am a fan of basketball, and by getting hot and bothered, you made a boring Eastern Conference Finals feel like the playoffs again, at least for one night.
So on behalf of basketball fans everywhere, thank you, Big Ticket.
Always,
The Mid Range J.
P.S. -Seriously, please don't kill me.
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