How come every time I watch highlights of the 2009-2010 Boston Celtics, I have to mute the television and feel compelled to listen to Bob Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower” and rekindle images of Hunter S. Thompson sitting by a 1972 typewriter, typing up disturbing images of inducing drugs and describing a pitiful, half-assed, old aged, injury riddled Celtics team in a drug addled state of mind (hey Jay-Z and Alicia Keys, you can keep your “N.Y. State of Mind,” damn it!)?
Actually, don’t answer the silly question that’s filled with subjective speculation that concerns means of following it all up with a horde of expository bullshit.
The Boston Celtics couldn’t play any ‘older’ than how they are right now. Injuries and a coach that’s inept when it comes to solidifying rotations will do that to a team. Considering that it’s February, it’s all right. This team is awfully reminiscent of the ’69 Celtics squad — running on fumes, injuries, and being questioned by reporters. Where’s the quickness and tenacity?
Nowhere to be found.
Two riders were approaching. . . and the wind begin to howl.