"There are so many emotions at the end of a season. And nobody likes to talk about it, but one of them is fear. Fear that you've come this far, and it could all end. The dream could die. But me? I like the fear. It means I'm close. It means... I'm ready."
Those words sound familiar?
If you've spent even one minute of the past month with your television tuned to TNT, then chances are that they do. Or if you're like me, and you've spent the majority of your waking hours since April 19 hopelessly addicted to the NBA Playoffs, then you've probably memorized that 30-second sound bite. (That, and you probably know Charles Barkley better than you know yourself. Scary thought, I know.)
Anyway, that whole schpiel about "the fear" has been repeated, via split-screen images of the NBA's biggest stars, for what by now seems like an eternity. Filmmakers Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris (of "Little Miss Sunshine" fame) have foisted that same script upon Kobe Bryant, Shaquille O'Neal, Tim Duncan, Dwight Howard, Chris Paul, Tracy McGrady, Carlos Boozer, Chauncey Billups and Chris Bosh. And here's the thing: It never gets old.
Seriously. I love those commercials. The quirky music, the creepily foreboding voices, the abstract art of combining T-Mac and Boozer into one titanically ugly face... it's all great. I'm almost ready to say the Turner conglomerate has redeemed itself for Dane Cook reminding me 896 times last fall that "there's only one October." (Calm down. I said "almost.")
You may notice, however, that nowhere among the faces repeating "I like the fear" did we see a single Boston Celtic. Nine of the NBA's biggest stars, but not a Kevin Garnett or a Paul Pierce to be found.
Thank God.
From a distance, those commercials are fun. But something tells me that if I had seen KG's mug glaring back at me, telling me that he likes the fact that "the dream could die," that might have hit a little too close to home. What I'm getting at is... well, I have a confession to make.
I absolutely despise the fear.
Boston has undergone a transformation over the past year. Here in the post-KG, post-Moss, post-Daisuke New England, we've entered a new era in which winning is expected, and losing is a calamity. There's no middle ground. Rather than live for the hope of my teams winning, I'm forced to survive the terror of them losing. Even though 29 teams fail to win the NBA Finals every year, being one of them is unacceptable. This gives new meaning to the term "emotional roller coaster."
My moods swung wildly throughout the third week of last October, when the Red Sox fell behind 3-1 to Cleveland in the ALCS, only to fight back with seven straight wins and a victory celebration in Colorado. I think I experienced the never-before-thought-possible phenomenon of temporary death, if only for a few minutes, after Gibril Wilson broke up Tom Brady's final Hail Mary attempt with two seconds left and effectively ended Super Bowl XLII. I shudder to think of what might happen if the Celtics come up short of winning it all in June.
Of course, this is incredibly selfish of me. Over the past seven months I've already gotten to see a World Series sweep, an 18-1 season, and the best one-year turnaround in NBA history. How can I possibly expect anything more?
Actually, on second thought, how can I not?
This is what it's come to in Boston - win or else. At this point, a championship is the only way to make this city happy. And next month, it had better happen - I'm not sure if I can handle another heartbreaker. After all, it's been three months since the Super Bowl, and I'm still having panic attacks at the sound of Tom Petty's voice.
Evans Clinchy is a junior majoring in English. He can be reached at Evans.Clinchy@tufts.edu.
