ONE long look (28-minutes) Friday night at Celtics offseason signee Patrick O’Bryant is enough for me to state unequivocally: Don Nelson famously fouled up.
No coherent coach could have possibly gotten less out of the 7-footer (drafted ninth overall in ’06 by Warriors VP Chris Mullin) in two full seasons or stunted his growth more successfully.
Conversely, no coach is better figuring out how to get through to a big man in the least amount of wasted words than Clifford Ray.
Ask Dwight Howard how lucky he was to be schooled and motivated by Ray, starting center on the ’75 title-winning Warriors and Mount Olympus’ original Orlando counselor and confidant.
Ask Kendrick Perkins how promptly he progressed once Ray joined Doc Rivers’ incisive, industrious staff last season.
Ask O’Bryant how lacking he was in the intricacies of the interior before Ray and Robert Parish – coincidentally, a flop until he left the Warriors for the Celtics – double-teamed him this past summer at their Bradenton, Fla., camp.
Ask O’Bryant who was there to work out with him at a moment’s notice, at any hour and as long an effort he was willing to invest – a big benefit of hiring a bachelor, I submit.
Ask O’Bryant, no rebounding or shot-blocking slouch, who wised him up on how to position himself on the right block, catch and pirouette into the paint for a nifty petite hook over his left shoulder.
Then again, better start asking opposing coaches how they plan to neutralize that move with one defender when forced to focus on Paul Pierce, Kevin Garnett, Ray Allen and Rajon Rondo.
Last season Perkins (almost fully recovered from shoulder surgery, by the way) was Boston’s singular shaky championship component. His penchant for faltering early in the personal foul column and primitive offensive arsenal compelled VP Danny Ainge to make a passionate pitch to P.J. Brown in New Orleans during the All-Star break.
Ask Ainge if he and Garnett think they could have sweet-talked Brown to recharge his 38-year-old battery without the input of Ray, boys with Brown since ’96 when they bonded as Nets.
Ask P.J. what a constructive influence the team’s newly hired assistant had on his self-assurance and statistics. He improved in every category except blocks, attracting numerous suitors for his free agent services; the Heat prevailed.
Even this certifiable pillow head readily admits there’s nothing emptier than an exhibition (two-point) victory. Nevertheless, O’Bryant’s shockingly efficient effort against the Cavaliers (4-5 FG, 4-4 FT, five rebounds, one invalidation) has convinced me his exit from Nelson’s entombment via the waiver wire means Ainge will not have to beg Brown again to bail out Boston.
Two weeks ago, I alerted coach Mike Brown I was set to anoint his Cavs with championship oils in my season preview:
Cleveland’s addition of Mo Williams – someone other than LeBron James who can create an open opportunity for himself and others – and Boston’s subtraction of James Posey – good for downing at least one money ball per rubber band bankroll battle and defensively deflating one bloated ego – cut the line and got the Cavs ahead of the Celts, Posey’s multifaceted Hornets and Lamar Odom’s (about-to-be-former?) Lakers, I explained.
Of course, that was before discovering O’Bryant isn’t remotely the stiff Nelson’s led us to believe by burying him below the roots of his roster.
And before seeing Tony Allen (6-7 FG and 13-16 FT) past a congregation of twitching Cavs possession after pristine possession. What shattered knee? What trouble in a Chicago club? Ring around this, Posey!
And before checking out Bill Walker and grasp why such a fuss is being made about the 6-foot-6 rookie (10 points, six boards, 21 minutes) who finishes with a Fluoride flush. Theo Ratliff can provide a vivid eyewitness account and description.
And before coming to the intuitive conclusion that championship glory, a parade, a summer of celebration and unadulterated adulation by the masses apparently has done nothing to pervert the priority of the prime time Celtics.
Despite breaking their maiden by liquidating the Lakers in The Finals, Garnett and Pierce and Allen appear to be as ravenous as they were last September upon assembling overseas and setting the ultimate bar.
What, no woman has ignited a feud that threatens to split the holy trinity? Nobody’s posse has stepped out of bounds? Nobody has taken a teammates’ game in vain? Garnett’s not jealous that Pierce harvested more endorsements than him? Allen’s not angry Garnett scored the most guest shots on Leno, Letterman and Kimmel?
Oh, well, it’s still early, there’s plenty of time to turn on each other in the ensuing weeks and months, and there’s always the coach to call out if scoring and credit becomes unbalanced and they lose two straight quarters.
For now, the Celtics’ standard remains inflexible, and their harmony is unsullied, their purpose pure and professional. Unselfishness and enthusiasm abound between the lines while superstars encourage and instruct and cheer role players on the sidelines. Satisfaction has been attained. Fulfillment is their next targeted fantasy.