Physically I can't take it anymore. And I'm not the only one. I can't imagine how the Celtics players are feeling but I do know how a number of fans are feeling. The phone calls, the emails, the shout outs at the grocery store; everyone's stomachs are in knots. The adrenaline is pumping, then freezes up, then pumps again. I've never seen so many men who appear to have PMS every two to three days.
In the six years since my dad passed away I've never wanted him to be around more than right now. Not to watch him struggle with these emotions and the anxiety (even though it would be hilarious because, well, that's just the type of people we are) but because he would be just as thrilled, just as overwhelmed, just as ecstatic as those of us who are here and feel it through and through.
And since I mentioned Father's Day I'll say happy belated to all of you dads and, of course, to Balcony Guy who deserves so much more than some downloaded songs about bicycles and cupcakes decorated by a three year old and clearly licked by the two year old and that new tape measure I can't find but know I bought. It's a good one, honey, really.
Oh, I just remembered, we've got tickets to GAME SIX.
Every time I remember I have tickets to GAME SIX, every time I realize I'll be sitting in my Balcony Seat, my stomach flops in that good way. That way that reminds me of when I realized I was going to marry Balcony Guy and have children named Marley (a girl) and Bo (Diddly, naturally a boy) and George (another girl, you know, from Nancy Drew) and Emerson (sex up in the air but it's the college where we met). Of course we had children named Balcony Princess and Balcony Baby instead.
It reminds me of the way I felt when I got my first big client and again when that client came back (to complain and get their money back but whatever).
It reminds me of how I felt on my due date for Balcony Princess, and the 8 consecutive days after that until she showed up. And again for Balcony Baby on her due date and the 5 days after that until she showed up. Oh, and the feelings of anger and deceit and let-downedness (so a word) toward the doctors who said the kids would be here on a certain day but then they weren't. They were still stuck inside of me and I looked like I was smuggling the whole basketball team and not just a ball. Then they were here and life was sweet again.
All of those ups and downs and ups and downs are making me thrive and shortening my life. They make me want to puke.
I'm so excited that the Celtics will be home for GAME SIX. I'm sure this will be the last one. Really, doesn't it have to be? Why keep the Lakers fans thinking they have a chance? In Boston we don't beat around the bush, we tell it like it is, so we'll stop playing games with LA. And, perhaps most importantly, NO ONE CAN TAKE IT ANYMORE. Every fan, every almost fan, every everyone wants the Celtics to bring it home, get that trophy and allow us all to put this in our memories as the best series ever.
I can't tell you the number of people I've heard say (and seen it written in emails and blogs) that a game seven will kill them. It's true.
I'm thrilled to be a part of this. I'm thrilled to have these seats, to have lucked out and made my dream of being a fan, one who holds tickets in her sweaty little hands night after night and watches every other game she's not at on TV and who's children actually bleed green like I did as a kid in the 80s (thanks Dad!), a reality. I'm thrilled to have made new green friends (not the kind who recycle though I'm sure they all do) in the people who sit around me and share drinks and food at Porters before games and in the people who trade emails with me regarding this passion that is the Celtics (like The Man and his daughters, other Celtics blog writers who I really think should help get us our own duck boat for the parade and numerous responders to this here blog). I'm just thrilled.
So, before I go on and on I'm just going to say that I think the Celtics will win this tomorrow. I think that they will bring a championship to Boston. I think there will be dancing in the street tomorrow night and Balcony Guy and I will be there. I've had goose bumps through all of this typing and all of the things I've wanted to say are just running away from me so I'll sign off now.
Oh, wait, I knew I'd remember! The plane that was to carry the Celtics home got delayed. Big issues, blah, blah blah, google it. Anyway, I imagine that our heroes have sat around all day getting sweatier, eventually boarding the rescue plane, trying to maintain their cool. By the time they touch down in Boston, only to separate and go to their own homes and families, they'll be old school smelly, like riding the bus with the boy's hoops team back from a game in high school and they'll be closer some how. They'll have talked through the disappointment of being stuck. They'll have coaxed each other along to not be angry, to just go with the flow, to be as one and bring on the good karma.
I say good night now. Sweet dreams and GO CELTICS.