Celtics vs. Lakers, Part XII or: How We Got Here and Where We're Going

Consider this: not too long ago (three years, to be exact), both of this year's finalists appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be dead in the water. The Celtics had come off a disastrous 2007 campaign in which it had become more than apparent that the young "core" (Gerald Green, anyone?) surrounding Paul Pierce was incapable of propelling the franchise into contention; adding insult to injury, any hope of improvement through the draft vanished with the inopportune bouncing of lottery balls. A draft-day deal for Ray Allen, while undoubtedly an upgrade to the roster and an obvious (and much needed) attempt to placate Pierce, was viewed by some as a foolhardy move which further underscored Danny Ainge's general incompetence and lack of vision.

The Lakers, despite having made the postseason for two consecutive years, were in a similiar dilemma; first-round exits at the hands of the Suns in the two postseasons prior, coupled with the apparent inability of Mitch Kupchak to surround Kobe Bryant with a capable supporting cast, had driven said star to the breaking point. Soon after exiting the playoffs, Bryant (quite) publicly expressed both his displeasure with the Lakers' front office and his teammates, as well as his desire to be dealt to a contender. That summer was thus marked by unbridled speculation regarding Bryant's future, and by any measure the Lakers appeared to be on the brink of starting a long and painful rebuilding process which would mark the end of an era.

Of course, the Kevin Garnett trade of that summer and the Pau Gasol deal in the winter of the following season irrevocably shifted the fortunes of both franchises. Since the tumultuous events of 2007, the Lakers have made three straight Finals appearances, and the Celtics have advanced to that round twice in the same time period; one could even go so far as to argue that the latter was a knee injury away from achieving the same feat as the former. Beyond returning the teams in question to contention and revitalizing the careers of some of the game's most burdened and unlucky stars, the roster overhauls of these two teams and the subsequent success each franchise has enjoyed has had unforseen and historic consequences which have, in a way, upset the NBA narrative of the past decade.

Indeed, this era (or mini-era, if you will) will be remembered not only as a time in which the league's flagship teams returned from the dead to contend for the throne, but also as a unique period in which the order of the previous decade (i.e. the San Antonio-Detroit-Shaq balance of power) was overthrown and the ascendancy of the up-and-coming powers (i.e. Cleveland, Orlando, OKC, etc.) was denied. Neither marked by the stodgy orthodoxy of the old hierarchy nor the friendly exuberance of the new generation, these Celtics and Lakers squads have adhered to a third-way philosophy of basketball which entails a reliance upon players both old and young, a blend of stylized (yet efficient) offense and stifling defense, and a sublimation of individual superstar egos into a greater whole. While these axioms are by no means radical or revolutionary, their successful adoption by L.A. and Boston has created a rift in the NBA order and kickstarted a transitional-period in which the machine-like teams of yore are put out to pasture and the superstar-led outfits of the future are forced to wait their turn to dominate.

And to think that, not so long ago, Kobe wanted to be traded to Chicago to play with Luol Deng and the Celtics were banking on Greg Oden to save the franchise . . .

Where Exorcising Your Demons Happens

Back in those dismal days of the 2006-2007 season, when my beloved Celtics were irrelevant and seemingly without direction, I adopted the Phoenix Suns as a sort of "second favorite" in an attempt to remind myself that the hopelessness of my true favorite's situation was not shared by every team in the league. With the return of Amare Stoudemire from injury, they appeared to be a squad which, if all the right pieces fell into place, could dethrone the Spurs and Mavs in the West, and prove once and for all that a fast-paced brand of basketball could lead a team to a title. Though they got off to a rocky start, they finished with a 61-21 record (second-best in the league to Dallas), and at one point were winners of 33 out of 35 games (with individual winning streaks of 15 and 17 games constituting the bulk of this run); their dispatching of the Lakers in the First Round set them up with a rematch with their rivals, the Spurs, who had defeated the Suns in the Conference Finals two seasons prior. If the Suns were going to win a championship that season, the seemingly most appropriate way in which they could do so would be to vanquish a team whose style of play was completely antithetical to that of "Seven Seconds or Less," and whose philosophy was of an era in which a run-and-gun mentality had been made impossible to act upon.

What followed has been well-documented and analyzed endlessly over the last three years. The Steve Nash nose injury in Game 1 and the Robert Horry-incident in Game 4 gave the Spurs enough of an advantage to finish off Phoenix, and subsequently proceed to win their third championship of the decade; the Suns bounced back with a successful regular season in 2008, though the addition of Shaq and the heartbreaking Game 1 loss to San Antonio in that season's First Round seemingly extinguished the vitality which had been such a large feature of the team in the seasons which that followed Nash's return to the desert in the summer of 2004. Although the Celtics had, by that point, added KG and Ray Allen and were making a run at a title, I still rooted for Phoenix; their trials and tribulations were the stuff of (basketball) tragedy, and were emblamatic of the seemingly inevitable (and, in my eyes, unfortunate) triumph of the "Right Way" philosophy over the more revolutionary (and fun) brand of basketball pushed by the Suns and their imitators.

With the completion of their sweep of the Spurs tonight, the Suns have washed away much of the pain of the last few years, and have subsequently transformed themselves from a historical perspective. Even if they lose to the Lakers in the next round, their decisive defeat of their arch-rivals will forever stand as proof that an up-tempo, fast-breaking team is capable of getting down and dirty, and hanging tough with a team of a supposedly more physical disposition. Two or three years ago Steve Nash's eye injury, or George Hill's four-point play, would have been enough to derail Phoenix; but this specific team is a different animal from past versions of the Suns, and has proven that it can withstand almost anything. Though the benefits of the additions of Grant Hill, Jared Dudley, Goran Dragic, Channing Frye, Robin Lopez, and Louis Admundson may not have been initially apparent, what these players collectively brought to the table may have been what Steve Nash (and, to a lesser extent, Amare Stoudemire) needed all along: teammates who were willing to go to war, and who would be adamant in their refusal to be intimidated by anyone, regardless of history and popular opinion.