After the Thrill Is Gone

The pumpkins have been put away. The nights are getting longer. And the gyms are filling up.

It's November, and that means the gym rats are out in full force. Walk into any local gym and they are playing. Build a net and they will come.

Hoops, if not officially then at least in practice, has become the national pasttime.

And with the NBA season right around the corner, excitement is in the air. Fans want to see the new studs in shorts. They're excited to begin the long march with their teams to the promised land of the NBA Finals.

But this year in Boston, arguably the holy land of hoops, things are different. At least for me, the same feelings of excitement are no longer there.

In past years, November I was an unofficial holiday. It was the day when the Leprechaun returned to the Parquet. I would be over the mental anguish that only the Boston Red Sox could inflict.

It was once again time to tune in and listen to Bob Cousy butcher the English language--but in a lovely, Bostonian way. It was time to watch Larry step back and drill the three. Or it was time to stare in amazement as McHale used and abused some over-priced, over-rated rookie in the low post.

Time to Enjoy Basketball

Most of all, it was time to enjoy the game of basketball at its best. It was time to live in Boston and marvel at the awesome ability of the larger-than-life athletes.

In the early-and mid-80s, the fans knew the Celtics would win. It wasn't a matter of when. Simply show, Would Larry score 50 or would the Chief dominate the opposition? The games simply weren't in doubt.

As the decade wore on, the team grew older, but never dull. The Celtics had not been to the Finals Since 1987, but they still kept you interested.

The fans wanted to watch Larry, Kevin and Robert battle and often overcome the struggle against age. In a way, the games were more gratifying. The Celtics were too old in 1987, and yet the same core hung around and played competitively for four more years.

Two of my fondest memories were Larry in the 1991 playoffs and Kevin against Charlotte last year. Both were supposedly too old and hurt. But they turned back the clock, they reached into their bag of tricks and pulled out just a few more memories for the scrapbook.

But now its 1993 and who is left? Reggie Lewis was ready to take over the role. He wasn't as vocal as Larry or Kevin, but he could play the game. And he was nothing but class.

On a basketball level, his death has left far more than a void on the 12-man roster. He has left the fans searching for someone to root for. Searching for that special someone who could turn heads, who could evoke screams of passion, who could simply make you dream about playing the game of basketball.

Parish is still around, but he wants a reduced role. He's an old thirtysomething and ready to move on.

So the season begins in Boston for the first time in 14 years with little hope, and not much more to root for. On Friday, the campaign will officially begin.

But I don't think I'll be watching. The next day I'll pick up the paper, see the score and check Parish's line.

And then I'll count the days until Chicago and Michael Jordan come to town...Oh, I forgot. He's gone, too.