LOS ANGELES.  A look at the box score to Tuesday night's game 3 of the NBA finals was as revealing as the clipboard at the end of a hospital patient's bed, according to Dr. Wu Yi Lee, a physician at Massachusetts General Hospital a court-length pass away from the TD Banknorth Garden.  "Big Ticket has Ralph Sampson's Disease," Lee said.  "He need to take it to hole."

The right way

Ralph Sampson was a number one draft pick out of the University of Virginia who was expected to transform the game when he was paired with Hakeem Olajuwon in the Houston Rockets' "Twin Towers" offense.  The 7' 4" inch Sampson opted for mid-range jump shots over low-post moves, however, and never realized his potential, causing college basketball scouts to apply the name "Ralph Sampson's Disease" to a big man's phobia of driving to the basket.

World's Largest Point Guard

Garnett was fouled only twice in Game 3, four times in Game 2 and 6 times in Game 1, causing Celtics trainer Ed Lacerte to call for help from high-powered basketball pathologists at Mass General, a hospital that has treated other NBA greats for ailments such as Iverson's Rock-Retentive Syndrome, colloquially known as "Ball Hog's Disease".

Dr. Lee:  "Take two Dance Team members and call me in the morning."

Garnett's long-term prognosis is good, but he is day-to-day in terms of his ability to overcome the limitations of the disease, says Lee.  "He is one very lucky man," Lee said.  "Medical conditions named after athletes can be fatal, like Lou Gehrig's disease, although Sampson ended up in the Spanish League with Unicaja Ronda, which merely sounds like it could kill you."

Copyright 2008, Con Chapman

We do so many defensive drills in practice that we do them in our sleep.  Man, I come home putting the press on my woman, denying her the ball.  It's sad, man.

                                               
                    Boston Celtic Kevin Garnett, The Boston Herald

It was 7:28, and I had my game face on.  I put the last glass in the dishwasher, dried my hands with a terry-cloth towel, and headed for the den. 

Kevin Garnett

As I walked in, I saw my wife Sarah "Sally" Christopher, a two-time Volunteer of the Year for the Uphams School PTO, fiddling with a dried flower arrangement on the armoire.  Just like her, I thought, acting blase right up to the moment of tipoff.

"Are you going to be in here or the living room?" she asked as she turned around.  Like I'd tell her where I was going to set up.  "Can't say," I said as I picked up the local paper and nonchalantly flipped through the high school sports section.  The second hand on the Pottery Barn Scottish Terrier clock on the wall ticked up towards twelve.  We looked each other in the eyes, bent at the knees and extended our arms for balance.  Bring it on.

That is just so precious!

As the clock struck 7:30, we lunged for the remote and, after a brief scramble, I emerged with possession.  "Celtics vs. Kings," I said as I pointed and clicked at the big-screen TV.  "You're going to have to go watch 'The Queen' someplace else."

"That's okay, I'd rather spend time with you," she said calmly as she picked up a Martha Stewart Living from the wicker magazine basket at her feet and took a seat on the couch.  I wasn't fooled--I know a zone defense when I see it. 

The Celtics took a 25-17 lead as the first quarter ended, and I decided it was time for dessert.  "I'm going to go get some ice cream," I said as I got up from my chair.  "You want anything?"

"No, I'm fine for now, thanks," she said, not even looking up from a photoessay on homegrown herbs.  She had learned the game in the hardscrabble Presbyterian living rooms of her youth, in a gritty suburban neighborhood where you didn't get to watch H.R. Pufnstuf unless you were quick to the dial, and willing to throw an elbow at your big sister if you had to.

H.R. Pufnstuf: He's your friend when things get rough.

I scooped myself a bowl of Haagen-Dazs strawberry frozen yogurt--I needed to be ready to run if she decided to switch to an uptempo game in the second quarter.  I turned and walked back to the den and saw--Sally with the remote in her hand, clicking for the Lifetime Channel!

Lifetime Disease-of-the-Week Movie:  "I just hope you live 'til the next commercial, sweetie."

"Hey, what gives!" I said with a pouty look that I learned by watching Miami Heat coach Pat Riley. 

"Gimme the remote, dammit!"

"You snooze, you lose," she said as she watched a mother lovingly stroke her daughter's forehead.

I flopped down in my chair as if I'd just been pulled from a game for a missed slam dunk.  "What's the Disease-of-the-Week?" I asked, knowing that someone would get sick and die before I'd see another transition basket.

"They don't know yet," Sally replied.  "They think it might be Osgood-Schlatter's Disease."

Osgood-Schlatter's Disease

"What a crackpot diagnosis that is!" I said with a snort.  "Everybody knows Osgood-Schlatter's primarily affects adolescent boys . . ."

"Primarily," she said without taking her eyes from the screen.

I decided to slow things down and work the shot clock.  It is virtually impossible for a woman to watch the Lifetime Channel for more than ten minutes without breaking into tears.  Sure enough, just as they wheeled the girl into the operating room for emergency surgery, Sally began to sniffle. 

"I'm going to go get a tissue," she said as a touching commercial for instant cinnamon-flavored cappucino (yuk) came on.

"You getting a cold?" I asked solicitously, if sarcastically.

"Keep up the trash-talk and you can sleep on the couch," she said.

As soon as she was out of the room I set up on the block in front of the cable box and switched back to the game--45-44 Kings, halftime.  The Boston Celtics dance team--who go by the name 'The Boston Celtics Dance Team'--took their places on the historic parquet floor of the TD Banknorth Garden to shake some obligatory male-fan-base-pleasing booty.

Red Auerbach is spinning in his grave.

"Oh for the love of God!" Sally exclaimed when she returned as she saw the rock-hard abs that are standard equipment on the underemployed aerobics instructors who succeed in the fiercely-competitive world of NBA fleshpot entertainment.

"I thought you liked dance," I said with an innocent look on my face.  "Sure, they're not the Boston Ballet, but then who is?"

Co-Defensive Players of the Game

Sally plopped down on the couch as Rocco and Oakie, our two cats, came into the room, looking for a warm lap to sit in for the rest of the night.  I don't like to brag, but they do favor me--maybe because I'm such a sensitive guy.

Sure enough, they both hopped up in my chair and settled down after doing that circling thing that cats do to find the best spot.  Rocco took the high lap up by my waist where he could get his chin scratched, while Oakie took the low post on my ankles, which were resting on a footstool.

"They sure love you, don't they," my wife purred with a chocolate-eating grin after our little tableau vivant was set.

"What's not to like?" I asked rhetorically.

"Oh, I don't know," she said with a thoughtful look on her face.  "Maybe the way you hog this!"

As she spoke she stole the remote from my hand.  I was stuck--I couldn't fight my way through the double-team.  "Illegal defense!" I yelled.

Deviated septum:  Before, and after.

"You're not going to get that call in a close one," she replied coldly.  "The refs aren't going to win the game for you."

Sally switched back to Lifetime, where the ailing daughter was seen walking out of the hospital and throwing away her crutches.  "Mom!" she cried.  "I'm fine--it was just a deviated septum!"

"Oh, honey, that's wonderful!" the mother exclaimed.  "Now we can go shopping for scented candles and potpourri again."

"Okay, it's over," I said.  "Can we switch back to the game now?"

"Let's see what's on the House and Garden Channel."

Copryight 2007, Con Chapman

Glen "Big Baby" Davis 

Hey everybody—           

First I want to say “Ciao”, which is kinda like “Aloha” in Hawaii—it means either hello or goodbye, but right now I’m saying hi. 

            We went to the Vatican today, it was great.  Michelangelo was a very talented painter, and what’s crazy is, he did it all lying on his back.  You’ve got to come to Rome to see it, though, because it’s one thing Isabella Stewart Gardner couldn’t steal and bring back to Boston—it’s attached to the roof.

"I just gotta finish the ceiling."

             It took Michelangelo six years to paint the whole place!  Supposedly the Pope was getting impatient after five years and dropped by to make sure Michelangelo wasn’t goofing off.  He comes in and says “Hey Mike—how’s it going?” real innocent like, and Michelangelo says “Pretty good, I just gotta finish the ceiling.”           

Speaking of the Vatican, did you know “Chateauneuf du Pape” means “the Pope’s new house”?  I didn’t either, and when I asked somebody if the Pope had moved, they said no.             

We beat Toronto last night at the PalaLottoMatica, a place where you can play the lottery, do your laundry and shoot some hoops at the same time.  It’s cool.           

I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.

Ciao—and this time I mean “goodbye”.

Bernard "Little Baby" Berenson 

 Hey guys—

             Today I picked up the media guide, which shows us all in our new uniforms.  Have to say, I’m putting on a little weight eating that good pasta every night.  I was hoping for more of a chiaroscuro effect—you know, a couple of shadows in the folds of my jersey—but I filled it out pretty good.

"Does this make me look fat?"

            We went over to the Coliseum and saw where them Christians got eaten by the lions.  I got so hungry listening to the tour guide, my mouth was watering.  I was looking at Kevin Garnett, but he’s so skinny he has to pass a place twice to make a shadow.

"Final score, Lions 14, Saints 0."

            I was about to pass out when somebody gave me a gelato, which is Italian soft-serve ice cream. 

            I’m learning a lot!

Rubenesque women:  "Oh, what the hell--I'm going to have a piece of cheesecake."            

Back at it today—           

I like the looks of the women in Rome.  They’re very “Rubenesque”, even though Rubens was Flemish with a Baroque style that emphasized movement, color and—get this-- sensuality.  He musta known some Italian girls!

            Not all the guys are digging it, though.  Rajon Rondo, who’s the skinniest guy on the team, asked me “What’s the difference between an elephant and an Italian grandmother?”  I said I don’t know, and he said “Fifty pounds and a black dress.”

             He thought he was being funny, but I didn’t laugh ‘cause I don’t wanna get in trouble with the front office.  I’m just trying to make the team!           

Catch you later.

Roman Forum 

Hey there--

Well, today we did some serious scrimmaging, and I got to throw my weight around a bit.  I like to set up on the low block, like one of the columns at the Roman Forum.  Nobody can move me down there except maybe Kendrick Perkins, who's 280 pounds if he's an inch--with the wind at his back.

I'm an old-school guy, none of this modernist #### for me, just like Berenson.  Personally, I think there's gonna be a renaissance of East Coast-style hoop this fall, with plenty of post-up play and application of psychology to the interpretation of the art of basketball, as William James noted in his seminal review of "Florentine Painters of the Renaissance". 

"Have some calamari--it's just like onion rings.  Really."

Got2Go--it's "Rookie Night" tonight and the vets and the guys eligible for the mid-cap salary exception are gonna make us "rooks" eat calamari.  Don't know what it is, but hope mine doesn't come up again during "suicide" sprints tomorrow.

 Yo--

Uh, that was a great "bonding" night, but I never thought I'd be lookin' at the business end of a squid after four bottles of Moretti beer.  I was doggin' it this morning on the three-man weave--hope Coach didn't notice. 

Titian's "Venus Urbino":  Plus-size models of the Renaissance.            

Think I'm gonna cool off today by lookin' at some Titians and dig how in his later works forms lose their solidity and melt into a lush texture of shady, shimmering colors and unsettling atmospheric effects.  'Cause that's what I'm feelin' like right now.

Ciao!

BOSTON.  In a move that reflects Danny Ainge's philosophy to "get old in a hurry," the Boston Celtics today traded guard Rajon Rondo and the starting lineup of St. Brigid's fourth-grade CYO Falcons to the Philadelphia 76ers for the rights to Dolph Schayes, a star of the early NBA.

Dolph Schayes, pictured shortly after the earth cooled.

"I am confident that with the addition of Dolph Schayes we have put in place the last piece of the puzzle that has been sitting on the card table in the game room at the Shady Acres Rest Home for some time," said Ainge, who is Executive Director of Basketball and Mascot Operations for the Celtics.  "Dolph is the kind of guy I would have idolized when I was growing up, if I hadn't been two years old when he retired."

"Aw, Red--do I have to wear my blazer to the game?"

Ainge and the Celtics made headlines around the league over the summer as they acquired thirty-two year-old Ray Allen and thirty-one year-old Kevin Garnett for young stars Gerald Green, 21, and Al Jefferson, 22.  "Gerald and Al have a great future in this league," Ainge said, "but they didn't fit into our system where everybody has to buy a round after a win."

Togo Palazzi:  Is he available?

Those who know Ainge personally say his purge of young players is tied to feelings of insecurity he first developed when he joined the Celtics as a baby-faced guard out of Brigham Young University in 1981.  "Danny used to get carded a lot," says former teammate Robert Parrish.  "That's what happens when you try to use Chuck E. Cheese tokens to buy a pitcher of light beer."

"Hey Danny--these two bet fifty tickets they can beat you at the free throw machine!"

As for Schayes, the 79-year old says he is excited about the prospect of winning his second NBA championship.  "The only time I won it all was in '55," Schayes said.  "I don't remember which century."

Copyright 2007, Con Chapman