It’s 3:19 in the morning and the TD Garden is fully lit. Dozens of people meander around the floor, taking their photos on the Finals stage that is still fully constructed in front of the scorer’s table. Every once in a while, someone will pick up a bunch of the confetti that still covers the parquet, throw it up in the air, and let out a “woo!”
While it’s happening, Joe Mazzulla and his wife, Camai, are walking around the court holding hands and chatting.
The rest of his team is celebrating somewhere nearby. The newly minted champions are celebrating somewhere nearby, some of them probably still wearing a beer and tequila-soaked jersey. They will head to Miami soon to continue the party before coming back to celebrate in front of their fans during Friday’s parade.
But round and round the Mazzulla’s walk as if strolling through the Public Garden. Moments like this are incredibly important to Boston’s championship coach. The personal relationships in his life, with his wife, his children, his team, his faith are everything.
“Yes, that's one thing where I truly do appreciate Joe, aside from being I think an excellent coach, is that I truly do believe that he cares about us, our team as individuals, obviously myself, the conversations that we have,” Jayson Tatum recently said. “He always, through the season, the summertime, obviously through this postseason, has had days where he's called me, called me into his office. Not necessarily talk about X's and O's, but check on me as a person, how I'm dealing with everything.
“That does mean a lot for somebody to take time out of his day to show that compassion or whatever, just know that he's there for me. That relationship between yourself and a coach is important. That's something I truly value about the relationship that me and Joe have.”
Mazzulla is definitely a unique character. He didn’t get to where he is by following conventional wisdom. But no matter what weird parallel he’s trying to draw between life and basketball, it always comes from a genuine place.
“That energy that he had translated to the assistant coaches, to us, to the training staff, everybody, and we just kind of follow suit,” Al Horford said. “Everything that he wanted to do, he was able to accomplish. He always knew when to push the buttons. He's hard. He can be a little whacky sometimes. But that's what we appreciate about him. He truly cares about us, and he cares about what it means to be a Celtic.”
This is the secret to building a champion. It's not just about drives and rim reads and kickouts and shooting a bunch of 3-pointers. Of course, there's strategy and game planning and execution involved, but more than that, it’s how to get a bunch of rich young men with massive egos to do all of that stuff.
How do you get 15 players with different personalities, personal goals, and motivations to surrender to a common goal?
You do it by giving a damn. You do it by caring. You do it by empowering everyone to believe they're a part of something and that when they have something to say, their voices carry weight.
“He's done a great job. He's definitely elevated my game,” Jrue Holiday said. “Had me look kind of outside of myself and bring something different. … he really opened my eyes to that and from the beginning really just made it known that whatever it takes, as long as it takes, we've got to get it done, and I'm not the only one on this team sacrificing. Everybody on this team sacrificed something.”
This is the culture built from the top in Boston. From ownership empowering everyone to do their jobs, to Brad Stevens emphasizing bringing in the kind of people who buy into the team concept. Mazzulla is a steward and the embodiment of this. The coaching staff he assembled made it possible. And the players accepted it all.
“I think sometimes when you become a coach you look at it from a coach's perspective, but at the end of the day the world revolves around the guys and how they view things and the lens with which they look at things,” Mazzulla said. “So you have to alter your communication. You have to alter your schedule. You have to alter things that put the players in the best possible decision to succeed. So a lot of the decisions that I make, it's like, what would I have wanted as a player. We have a ton of former players on staff that are able to help with that, so I think that's the biggest thing.”
Winning a championship is hard work. It takes sacrifice and dedication. It takes people away from their families and friends. It means long hours working at tedious things when much more attractive options are readily available.
What makes a player decide to do all those things? What makes a player go all out? What makes players dive and scratch and fight? What makes a team throw out a stinker in Game 4 of the NBA Finals and fully regroup, listen to everything the coach said, and turn around and fix almost everything they did wrong?
It’s a culture of caring. Coaches caring for the players. Players caring about their coaches. Teammates caring about each other. Only when a group of different people from different backgrounds cares about each other will they come together to accomplish a common goal. When you can look to your right and left and know that person cares about you the same way you care about them, anything is possible. Championships are possible.
After their last lap around the parquet, Mazzulla dropped into a pushup position so he could kiss the floor on his way out. It seemed to be as much a thank you to the game, the franchise, and the team as it was a goodbye.
He’ll return for another one of these moments someday. He cares too much not to.