Seventeen games in and already I am emotionally exhausted. The wins are nice, the loses are merely a nuisance. Running the gauntlet beginning when we waited for Kemba to return, then Jayson Tatum caught coronavirus and the Celtics fell from first place to middle of the pact after losing four of their last six games.
Now the Philadelphia 76ers are the toast of the town. Suddenly it doesn’t matter your number one pick can’t rise above his rookie averages. The Lakers are lauded for their ability to win on the road despite arenas not having any fans in the building. The discourse is toxic and as always downright idiotic.
Years of every defeat being the end of the world and our short term memories. Maybe these loses are indicative of the bigger flaws that’ll ultimately hold this team back. Or maybe a loss is simply a loss. I don’t know and to be honest fans shouldn’t care. What is in it for you to freak out constantly? You’re never going to be in a position of power to make the decisions you meticulously analyze. Nor are you going to get the satisfaction of your least favorite pundits eating crow if the day you’ve spent years dreaming of finally happens.
No sir. We are living the life of futility. Where are moods hinge on whether strangers wearing our uniforms perform adequately enough to secure a victory in a very long season where seeding is almost pointless given the aforementioned fact fans are not permitted into the arenas due to a plague currently ravaging the United States in horrific ways thanks to the failures of free market capitalism.
If you ask me Brad Stevens should simply limit Tristan Thompson’s minutes time below fifteen, enhance Daniel Theis and Robert Williams’ roles on the team and we’ll all be better off for it.