The steady march of time tramples all, leaving behind only fading memories of what once was. No one, no thing, no structure nor being is immune. The boots leave only a select few imprints in our minds, and bury the rest under the weight of the present and future.
The greatest era of Boston Celtics basketball has heard its number called. Our legends, our greatest greats, are leaving.
Bill Russell, Tommy Heinsohn, Sam Jones, KC Jones, John Havlicek.
They are not just the foundation on which this franchise was built, they are the foundation of the entire concept of Celtics Pride. When one of today’s players talks about the thrill of stepping onto the parquet floor, looking up at all of the banners above, and seeing the patchwork of retired numbers, they are talking about what was built in their era.
They were the first team to run and gun. Russell’s defense turned to offense as he rebounded and whipped outlet passes to Bob Cousy. They ran their fastbreak engine to perfection, with defensive pit bulls on the perimeter, scorers on the wings, and Russell in the middle making it all work.
The Celtics didn’t dominate because of the competition they faced. They dominated equally stacked competition because they were simply better. They worked harder, ran faster, and thought the game more thoroughly than anyone else.
Time’s journey is a constantly churning evolution. Yes, the old goes away to make room for the new, but the old also feeds what’s next. Leaves die and fall from branches in the autumn so they can be turned into soil under the blankets of winter snow, and provide the nutrients for the seeds that fell before them. When those saplings take hold and begin to grow thick, sturdy trunks, they will take over the forest.
Red Auerbach’s Celtics gave way to Heinsohn’s runnin’ 70’s champions. Heinsohn’s disciple, Don Nelson, carried the torch with “Nellie ball.” Russell was the concept car that spawned an entire line of defensive-minded, shot-blocking, outlet pass-throwing centers. Heinsohn was the “Tommy Gun,” the shooter who shot shots because that's what shooters do. KC Jones was the perimeter defender who blew up the point of attack (with some help from fellow defensive menace, Satch Sanders). Cousy was the fancy-dribbling distributor who set up the scorers. Sam Jones was the closer.
The game has grown more complicated, but the archetypes remain the same. The parquet floor, once a patchwork of wood planks culled from a variety of local lumber yards due to a post-World War II shortage, is now a slickly glazed, purposefully built work of art. And while the lines on the court are a little different now, the dimensions are the same.
The approximate spot where Havlicek stole the ball is now a checkout line at Star Market, which will go down as one of time’s lesser evolutionary accomplishments, but time’s job isn’t to figure out what’s next. It’s just to clear the way for whatever that might be.
A quote attributed to the artist Banksy suggests people die twice. Once when a person stops breathing, and later, when someone says that person’s name for the last time.
Our heroes are going away, but they will never die as long as we remember them, and do so with the appropriate reverence for what they built and when they did it.
These are men who built up a franchise, a league, and a sport. Were it not for their contributions and dominance, we wouldn’t have an NBA that was strong enough to withstand the ABA’s challenge in the 1970s. We wouldn’t have a rivalry that pulled the league from its brink in the early 1980s. We wouldn’t have a Dream Team that spread the seeds of basketball around the world to give us our international superstars of today. We wouldn’t have the WNBA, and the infrastructure to make the game available to everyone.
Our legends are leaving, but it’s what they have left behind that makes them great; it’s the game and the franchise they’ve left Jayson Tatum, Jaylen Brown, Marcus Smart, and Ime Udoka that makes them immortal.
Their stories can never be forgotten. And as long as we keep them alive, as long as the banners hang, as long as those who wear the uniform today honor the past by adding to the future, they never will be.