If you’ve followed the Celtics closely over some portion of the last 40 years, there’s a strong chance a specific series sticks in your mind as the one that slipped away.
For those in their 50s or 60s, it’s likely 1987. For those in their teens or 20s, it’s likely 2022. For those who are my age, in their early 30s or a bit older, it’s almost certainly the 2010 NBA Finals.
That loss was absolutely devastating as a high-schooler who watched every game religiously. I hated Kobe Bryant (rest in peace to
a legend). I hated Pau Gasol. I hated Derek Fisher. Don’t get me started on Sasha Vujačić.
While the loss itself was crushing, it was even more heartbreaking because it felt like the Big Three’s best opportunity to secure another title. Watching Paul Pierce, Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen go to war every night was a wonderful way to spend a childhood, and I’m forever grateful for those memories. At the same time, the era left me craving more.
That group had the talent to win a second. While the era will always be celebrated, it also carries the caveat that, no, they couldn’t do it again. It was ultimately a success, but it wasn’t a roaring success.
From my perspective, the Jays era should be viewed through a similar prism. Should Jaylen Brown and Jayson Tatum be praised and appreciated for their efforts side-by-side and officially enter the pantheon of Celtics greats? Absolutely.
At the same time, you can’t help but wonder if this era was truly maximized. That 2022 Warriors series was there for the taking. They were almost ready, but they weren’t quite ready.
Of course, there are some differences. The Jays were fully homegrown, whereas the Big Three was two-thirds acquired. The Big Three and Co. let one slip away after the title they won, while the Jays and Co. did so beforehand. And yes, Tatum is still the star of the franchise and may end up getting another at some point.
But it won’t be with Brown. It’s just “the Jay” now.
That’s a tough reality to accept. These two gave everything they had together. They accomplished their mission, but it still felt like it wasn’t enough. In a weird way, they actually raised the bar so high for themselves that anything less than multiple championships felt like a disappointment.
It’s extremely difficult to win a second title in today’s NBA. The league is structured to produce parity, and it’s not a coincidence that there have been eight consecutive different champions.
Giannis Antetokounmpo and Khris Middleton couldn’t win a second in Milwaukee. Nikola Jokic and Jamal Murray haven’t gotten a second in Denver. It won’t be easy for Shai Gilgeous-Alexander and Jalen Williams to capture a second in Oklahoma City.
That’s all true, but you can’t help but wonder if Brown and Tatum reached their full potential as a duo. Tatum’s Achilles injury deprived them of finishing one season in their primes together and starting another. It created more friction and prevented them from thriving as the elder statesmen of a team.
It felt like if they had the right pieces around them, they could still contend for the foreseeable future and maybe, just maybe, get over the hump again.
Now, it’s over.
As human beings, we grow accustomed to following certain patterns without consciously thinking about what we’re doing. We go to the gym, to work and to the supermarket. We eat dinner, talk about our day, then we sit down together and watch the Jays hoop.
It’s a real bummer that’s no longer part of our routine. While Brown was ultimately viewed in a largely positive light here, it felt like he was under-appreciated throughout his Celtics career.
In a franchise full of all-time greats, he’s one of them. He deserved more respect than he got, as an elite two-way player, a voice of reason and a fixture in the community who molded hundreds of young lives.
Now that he’s gone, I hope fans appreciate just how much heart, guts and 7uice he poured into the city. This was his city. It became his home. We became his people.
Suddenly, after one Shams Charania tweet, it’s time for change. We don’t like change. We like stability, structure and familiarity, and Brown provided exactly that for a decade.
No one can take 2024 away, but it felt like there was more unfinished business to tend to. We’ll never know what would have happened, but we’ll always have the memories.
