I was a young kid in 86 when the Celtics took their third championship in five years. Dad brought the old black and white television along and stuck it on the roof of our red Volkswagen rabbit. While mom shopped, we sat in the parking lot of an outlet mall and watched the Celtics run away with a tough series against the Rockets.
All of my iconic Bird, McHale, Walton, Ainge and D.J. Johnson moments are somehow from that spring. To steal a phrase, “those were the days.” The days of the old garden. It was several parts cigar smoke, bad foam fingers and the world’s nastiest bathrooms—but it was also a place of legendary victories and home of arguably the NBA’s greatest franchise. But history can also have a way of hanging around.
One June evening, the hope of two programs by the name of Len Bias, died; the impact of which I have not thought of in quite some time. He was the future for Celtics basketball. He was the next great thing—at that point I hadn’t even heard about Michael Jordan or how he would rise to greatness. I had only heard about a quiet guy from Maryland that could jump out of the gym.
Years after leaving Boston, I found myself in Maryland. And, of all places, living in College Park to attend the University of Maryland. The basketball team, after years of rebuilding was making a second run at the NCAA tournament. According to Maryland sports fans things had never recovered from Lenny’s death. Their successful program had collapsed under the tragedy that was Lenny’s passing. When I arrived the bursar’s web page still had a beauty shot of a Len Bias dunk. The memorabilia of his tenure still adorned Cole Field House along with the team’s trophies—his ghost was everywhere.
Maryland went on to beat the Indiana Hoosiers for the championship that year, and it seemed like the program had traversed a long and necessary cycle. The heart was beating again, basketball was really back in Maryland, and I heard shock-waves of Lenny Bias reverberate through the campus and regional press. The collective movement passed the tragedy was audible; maybe even tangible.
But the shoes of Len Bias left two programs in ruin. He stalked the Maryland campus for years until their championship released him. And maybe it’s the same situation back in the new garden. Maybe it’s time we laid Lenny (not to mention Reggie Lewis) down once and for all. I guess programs, not unlike people, can be haunted. And so too, they can turn a corner, and allow history to “be” in books instead of in the way. Boston has had a bit of amazing history lately with overcoming the past. And for all the arguments made about willingness to pay out the money for the best players, better leadership, or just better luck, I think history still has an undeniable way of creeping into the consciousness of sports teams.
So the Celtics have had this run of bad luck, but maybe, dare we dream it, this year is a little bit different. Maybe we can lay to rest a man who has haunted parquet with his athletic genius, his sweet demeanor, and his blinding talent. Times have changed, televisions have gotten bigger, and even the rabbit has made a comeback. And I'm hoping, with all this winning going on, banner hanging won't be too far behind.
