Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Observations from Game 1

Today was one of the more miserable days of work in recent memory, mostly because I woke up without a voice, and without the drive to do much of anything, after attending the Celtics 95-90 loss to the Magic in Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Semi-Finals last night.

The game itself was a thriller, with the Celts rallying back from a 28-point deficit to come within three points of Dwight’s (only 16 pts, 22 reb) (Only?) (Yeah, we’ll go with that.) Magic in the closing minutes. It was such a remarkable comeback / epic collapse that it’s tough to say which team walked away the winner in this one. The Magic just took away home court advantage (in theory) and are up a game over the defending champs, but at the same time the Celtics just proved to themselves and everyone else that they are a force to be reckoned with and can overcome even the most seemingly insurmountable odds.

That said, here’s a list of observations from my Game 1 experience, in no particular order.

1) My buddy Cunn is not to be left alone while intoxicated. He accompanied me to the game last night and we met up beforehand at (the legendary) Halftime Pizza to slug back some brews and grab dinner. He, being Cunn, had taken the train into the city to meet me, and had downed a glass of Jim Beam before boarding the train and an additional apple juice bottle full of Jim on his way in. Needless to say, by the time he had downed two of Halftime’s 32-ounce, $7.50, personal pitchers of goodness, he was hammered.

Now… before I continue with this story, I feel obligated to tell you another one. Last year, I went to the Celtics season opener against the Wizards with Cunn. I was in school at the time in Vermont. Cunn was in school in Mass. It was a Friday night, and I had an exam that morning, so we agreed that I’d drive down after my exam, meet at my parent’s house, and take the train in to the city for the game.

My piece of shit car broke down on the way down from Vermont though. Luckily, it was a minor problem that I paid a mechanic extra in order to fix so I could make the game. I called Cunn up and told him I’d meet him in the city, outside the garden instead.

So, I get down there 10 minutes before tip off, have to park in the Fanuel Hall parking Garage cause there’s no parking anywhere near the Garden, sprint over to the Garden thinking, “Shit, I’m gonna miss KG’s intro,” and what do I see? Cunn standing outside the Garden, visibly sloshed, hitting on a homeless girl with dreads.

The ensuing conversation went like this:

Me: “What the fuck are you doing?”

Cunn: “A-what?”

Me: “Do you know what time it is? We’re gonna miss tip-off.”

Cunn: “I was talkin’.”

Me: “To a homeless girl! What the hell were you talking about? WHY were you talking to her?” What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Cunn: “I don’t know how I got into that situation, but I couldn’t get out.”

And there you have it.

Last night, though, the legend of Cunn grew tenfold. After I finished my last beers at Halftime, Cunn was struggling with the final sips of his. I needed some wings before the game, so in the interest of time, I decided that I would go over to 7/11 while he finished his beer and grab a Red Bull, and told him to meet me on the corner outside of Halftime in 5.

Cunn was opposed to this idea. “You can’t leave me by myself,” he said, explaining he was basically at the point where he needed a chaperone. Naturally, I told him to stop being a pussy and deal.

So I go to 7/11, get my caffeine fix, walk out, and there’s Cunn, standing on the corner with a confused look on his face, talking to some homeless guy. I could tell by the look on his face that this was a conversation he clearly wanted no part of, so I quickly walked over, tapped him on the back and said, “All right man, let’s go, we’re gonna miss the intros.”

Without saying anything Cunn turns and starts to walk away with me, but the homeless guy starts yelling something, barely intelligible, that I believe was, “Hey, man, no man, hold on man, my brother, Ha Ha, my brother.”

He comes up to Cunn, and hugs him. The homeless guy hugged Cunn in the middle of a crowd of people on Causeway Street before a Celts game. HE HUGGED HIM. WHAT THE FUCK.

Me: “Why did that guy just hug you?”

Cunn: (Petrified) “I have no idea.”

Me: “What were you even talking about?”

Cunn: “I have no fucking clue.”

Me: “How do you not know.”

Cunn: “I don’t… know”

Me: “How did you even start talking to him? How did you suddenly find yourself in that situation?”

Cunn: (Laughing like an idiot at this point) “I… don’t… know”

Me: “So you walk out of halftime, and next thing you know some homeless guy is hugging you.”

Cunn: “Yes… I told you, I can’t be left alone.”