The crowd getting into the Garden was surprisingly straight forward. In games past, especially early in the playoffs, there was congestion and confusion and overall pain-in-the-assedness. Tuesday night felt like everyone knew where their seats were, where they where going and how much time they had to get there. OK, perhaps it helped that we were there earlier than we've ever been before. As the Cs entered the arena the cameras panned to the tunnel and as soon as we (the collective everyone-in-the-Garden we) realized they were hitting the court, we all stood up and clapped and screamed. The excitement of the night just got more intense from there. I don't think I sat down much throughout this game. I don't think many people did.
The opening ceremonies had Paula Cole singing the national anthem. I happen to be a Paula Cole fan. Perhaps because I'm a chick? Perhaps because I love the way her albums are recorded? If I could have been there during the taping of Harbinger to see what microphones were used and...oh, sorry, I digress.
Anyway, Paula has an amazing voice. And her connection to Boston made it a good, though surprising choice. While she was singing, the jumbotron had images of Doc and his platoon and, with each face flashed up on that, there was louder and louder cheering. EVEN FOR DOC who, let's face it, has had a lot of naysayers over the past couple of seasons. And through this Paula sang on. Then there were shots of Phil and his platoon and the booing was immense. IMMENSE. I understood the competitive feelings and the emotion running through the crowd but it's the national anthem people. I just wanted to climb under my Balcony Seat because I was so embarrassed. Poor Paula, singing her heart out and getting booed. She couldn't see the jumbotron, she had no idea. But she finished strong and the crowd went insane.
I guess my point here is that I know it's the championship game but SHUT UP AND STAND THERE AND BE ALL SOLEMN FOR A MINUTE. Just saying.
For some reason I have loved watching them take down those two huge replica trophies and wheel them out. Where do those go, do you think? Do they have to get on a plane? Do they reside in a basement somewhere? Perhaps Wyc gets to keep them as lawn art? Perhaps the two best Celtics bloggers get to each own one? Perhaps the other bloggers won't let me in on it because this blog isn't the most serious of serious blogs. I know, you thought it was, dear readers reader, but it's not.
I'm chatting with the guy next to me, Thor*, and Balcony Guy asks, "Who really wears white pants?" because, you know, his idea of fashion is changing the 'reduce, reuse, recycle' pin on his overalls to his pin that says 'your village called and they want their idiot back."
*(some names have been changed to protect the innocent but not Thor's because that name is too good to be true)
As I click a few pics in the general direction of the white pants in question, seated at the left end of the Laker's bench, one of our Balcony Pals (I told Claudia I'd keep her very low profile in this blog) comes over and points out that Steven Tyler is here. Fun. He's the guy wearing the white pants and, perhaps because of the pants, you could tell it was him from WAY UP HERE. I'm sure those of you sitting at home got to see his mug several times on TV but those of us who were there at the game only saw it a couple of times on the jumbotron and not nearly in such the grainy way as these pics portray.
I have some idea of what happened to the Lakers that made them seem as if they weren't all there. This picture says it all. Mihm stood there, in that spot with his hands on his hips, for at least a full minute watching the Celtics Dancers. WTF? This photo (which you can click on to make it larger) is full of interesting vignettes. It's kind of like the back of the cereal box that someone else has already filled in for you. See if you can find: the men in the same row with their hands over their mouths, the woman with the would-be impressive drinking glass except it looks like it holds less liquid than the cup the man behind her is holding and two men picking their noses. That is, picking their own noses, not each others. If you find anything else exciting in there then let me know.
And then there was the couple that fell asleep. Not just one of them but both of them. Oh my, I can't even begin to imagine how much each minute of that nap was costing them. But the moment for the rest of us, as it was flashed on the jumbotron, was priceless.
Well, I'm due for another nap so I'll have to stop here. Stay tuned for Part Three in which I discuss threes, ghosts in the Garden, faded floors, sore pecs and I finally get to the part about The Beast's Buddies.