I'm not gonna say it. But you know what I'm thinking.

Or, let's put it another way. Feel better now?

This Celtics-Atlanta series isn't over. It might even come back to Boston for -- miracle of modern miracles -- a Sunday afternoon game -- but the Celtics are going down to Atlanta on Friday night leading the series, 3-2. And if it must return to Boston on Sunday, what you saw Wednesday you will see in some variation or other Sunday. To repeat, this is why you battle to get the home-court advantage.

What took place at the Garden on Wednesday was very much the natural order of things. The Celtics did everything the way they did it during the 66-16 regular season. They played killer D. They had an exquisite inside-outside offensive balance. They shared the ball. They got timely bench lifts from the likes of Leon Powe (a 9.9 on the Lovability Scale, isn't he?). It all looked very familiar and logical.

The Stars shone. If the 1986 Larry Bird had played a game such as Paul Pierce submitted in Game 5, we'd be busy composing sonnets and commissioning statues in his honor. Pierce was all over the stat sheet from the beginning, and what I especially loved was the way he set the tone for the offense by combining strong (and ambidextrous) moves to the hoop with a velvety outside touch. He rebounded with great relish and he passed beautifully. That 50-foot outlet pass to a speeding Rajon Rondo as he came down with a second quarter rebound was a Bird-like play if I've ever seen one. Doing what he did in the context of the "menacing gesture" controversy was pretty impressive.

Kevin Garnett was quietly magnificent. His passing was superb, especially his subtle drop-down entries. And when the game got sticky at 60-54, he basically said, "Just give me the ball, please; I have something in mind." That something was an aggressive post-up move that stopped the bleeding and set the forces in motion for what would turn out to be a 25-point win and a guaranteed Gino viewing.

Ray Allen came up huge in the second half. He was quiet offensively in the first half, with just two points and the team's only turnover (he just lost the ball out of bounds en route to the hoop). But he was a monster in the third quarter, nailing three threes just when the team really needed them.

Speaking of threes, which I will always hate, and which I consider to be the worst thing to happen in basketball during my lifetime ... there is nothing worse than what happened in Game 4, when, thanks to some early threes, the Celtics got off to that quick 13-point lead. Making early threes is a curse, because you start thinking you're playing better than you really are. It is far better to get an honest lead and then allow threes to be incorporated into your offense as the game unfolds. In other words, to have it all play out as it did in Game 5.

The Hawks cooperated by playing a typical Atlanta road game. Don't forget. They were 12-29 away from home for a reason.

So the Celtics did what they had to do, and what logic told us they would do. But, as Doc Rivers continually points out, this group has yet to accomplish much of anything. They could get through an entire playoffs without winning a road game, for example. But I wouldn't recommend it. Let's see what they're made of in Atlanta.

By the way, you looked pretty foolish out there on that ledge.

Have we no institutional memory?

People are beginning to act as if something odd is going on in the Celtics-Hawks series, as if we've never seen this before. I've even seen one columnist I think is pretty smart actually employ the dreaded "C-word" in reference to the Celtics' performance against the talented, energized Hawks.

This is the 25th time in Celtics history they are 2-2 coming back home in a best-of-7 series. If you have Game 5 at home in anything other than the post-1984 Finals (David Stern foolishly insisting on a needless 2-3-2 format for the Finals), it means, by definition, you are the higher seed. You have the home court advantage. That's why you slog through the Big 82 in the first place.

What is going on in this Atlanta series is nothing new. We have seen it all before. Everyone really does start off 0-0 in the playoffs. The regular season does not matter.

The home team wins Games 1 and 2 at home, often in rousing fashion. The home crowd starts thinking sweep. You get to the other guys' place for Game 3 and it's all different. The crowd is maniacal. The other guys are all pumped up. You simply don't take them seriously enough in Game 3. You claim you've learned your lesson, but Game 4 comes and what you're really thinking is "They can't play that well again, can they?" But they do, and now you're coming back home 2-2 and the series officially begins.

I repeat: The regular season records no longer matter at that point. Want some examples?

1972 -- 56-26 Celtics tied at 2-2 with the 36-46 Hawks.
1973 -- 68-14 Celtics tied at 2-2 with the 46-36 Hawks.
1974 -- 56-26 Celtics tied at 2-2 with the 42-40 (Buffalo) Braves
1976 -- 54-28 Celtics tied at 2-2 with the 46-36 Braves
1976 -- 54-28 Celtics tied at 2-2 with the 49-33 Cavs
1976 -- 54-28 Celtics tied at 2-2 with the 42-40 Suns
1981 -- 62-20 Celtics tied at 2-2 with the 40-42 Rockets
1984 -- 62-20 Celtics tied at 2-2 with the 47-35 Knicks

OK? It happens.

In all the above cases the Celtics won Game 5 at the Boston Garden and went on to win the series, and all but the 1984 Knicks series ended in 6.

Game 5s when it's 2-2 are fun. They are mini-7s, which is why their absence in the Finals for the last 23 years is so sad. Yeah, there are Game 5s, but they should be in the court of the team with the home court advantage. The finals are far less suspenseful as a result.

The Phoenix Triple OT was a Game 5. The famed "Heat Game" in 1984 was a Game 5. The Bird Steal against Isiah was a Game 5. Cedric Maxwell's great 29-point game in the 1981 Finals was a Game 5.

You've seen Atlanta the past two games. Joe Johnson, Josh Smith, Al Horford, and Marvin Williams have a lot of talent. They're obviously better than their 37-45 record would indicate. They're figuring it out at the right time. Give them credit.

But they're just the latest example of a Celtics opponent finding it and feeling it in the playoffs, not the first.

You need to know that.

The sky is blue. The sun is shining. The boidies is choipin'. I'm in New York City on a glorious Saturday.

So what do I do? I watch 11 hours and 35 minutes of non-stop sports, is what I do. Hey, I'm sposed to be a professional sportswriter, ain't I?

1. 12:30-sometime around 3: Cavaliers-Wizards

Good game. Lots of shifting momentum. Gilbert Arenas makes a boffo entrance, nailing four threes after entering the game, including one to end the first period that really is from three or four steps beyond the arc.

It goes back and forth, each team making a run, until there's like a minute left. And it's as if the first 47 minutes don't matter. It comes down to one simple fact: Cleveland has Him, and Washington doesn't.

LeBron takes over. He goes to the hoop, takes a major whack, and it doesn't matter one little bit. He banks it in. The Wizards get a stop. LeBron takes the ball, sashays into the lane and swishes a runner. That's it. Cavs win.

Keep this in mind as we celebrate the 22d anniversary of Michael Jordan's 63-point performance in Game 2 of the 1986 first round series with the Bulls. LeBron can do that kind of stuff, too. He will bring it up, so you really can't get it out of his hands. There's no kind of defense he hasn't seen. If the Cavs win, fasten your seatbelt, baby.

The most amazing thing about LeBron is this. He turned 23 on December 30. There have been countless NBA rookies older than he is now (Larry Bird turned 23 a month-and-a-half into his rookie season). And he's already scored more than 10,000 points. He's also the all-time Cavalier point leader.

That's sick.

2. 3-ish to 6:35: Spurs-Suns

See? Some things in sport do live up to the hype.

Everyone said this would be like a Finals, so what do they give us in the first game of a first round series? They give us an epic.

The Suns dominate most of the first half. They even lead by 16 in the second quarter. But the Spurs never look rattled or fazed. They hang in there and they get it down to eight at the half (48-40).

I should mention that Shaq has two ultra-quickies, and that as soon as he comes back in the second quarter he picks up number three. They are doing all this without any help from the man they traded for to give them a chance to beat this team, right here. One reason they are functioning so well is the play of Boris Diaw, who is, to me, their X factor player.

Anyway, the Spurs keep hanging and hanging and they eventually catch them, at which point the game goes from really good to great. This is the NBA being the NBA, which means that, as much as any of us can like college ball, the level is waaaay beyond that of even the best college game.

And how could I go this far without mentioning Tim Duncan? He's on his way to 40, and I'm sure you know that three of them come on a shot that ties the game and sends it into a second OT. It's his first three-pointer of the year.

It will be interesting to see if Phoenix gets over this loss. They come into the series knowing that the must win one game in San Antonio, and will they get a better opportunity than this? It's not the 16-point second quarter lead so much -- this is, the NBA, after all -- as the fact that in both the end of regulation and end of the first OT they have the ball and a three-point lead and give it up each time, and each leads to a game-tying three, the first by Michael Finley (who only looks like he's 75) and the second by Duncan, who is the man the Suns most wanted to be stuck with the ball behind the three-point line. But I guess that's why the Truly Great are a cut above the Merely Great.

Just a great spectacle. It's the kind of game that justifies being a sports fan, let alone one who eschews the Great Outdoors on a perfect spring afternoon in order to sit in a hotel room watching a couple of ballgames.

OK, full disclosure here. I only watched the Cavs-Wizards game and the first half of the Suns-Spurs game in my room. I watched the second half and both OTs of the Suns-Spurs in Jimmy's Corner, which is a 44th street bar everyone should know. That is, unless the idea of a $3 draft steps from Times Square is of no interest to you.

3. 7-10ish: Our Beloved Bruins vs. The Habs

Thank God for the ESPN Zone. Where else was I going to find Versus?
Remember what I just said about something justifying being a sports fan? Xerox that up for the third period of the Bruins and Canadiens. You can't get much better than that, and while the Sturm goal wins the thing, the play I'll always remember is the fourth Bruins goal, which features a spectacular collaboration beytween Sturm and Phil Kessel, the former making the perfect centering pass and the latter making the dream conversion, all of it occurring at approximately 175 mph.

A great game, and dinner, too. Sitting in a recliner. Beats workin'.

4. 10:15-11:05ish: Joe Calzaghe-Bernard Hopkins fight on HBO

Imagine that. A fight you actually want to see that's not pay-per-view.

I'm curious about this undefeated Welshman who has never before fought in the States. I'm also curious to see how good a 43-year-old fighter can be. In the first round I discover he's good enough to put the Welshman on the canvas.

But Calzaghe bounces up and by the third or fourth he's into his rhythm and he's on his way to a 12-round split decision. The only surprise is that one judge -- the female judge, if it makes any difference -- gives it to Hopkins. Everyone else thinks the Welshman has dominated the final 10 rounds. "Nine rounds to three, Calzaghe!" screams the great Harold Lederman,. "It's not a hard fight to score!" (Ah, if only you could hear me right now. I do a very passable Harold Lederman).

The highlight of the fight is Enzo Calzaghe, Joe's father and manager/trainer/whatever. He obviously believes there is no other way to communicate with his son other than by employing the F-word, and this being cable, no one blinks. I'm not sure the Pope, if he's watching in his hotel room, would approve.

So, whaddya think? if you're going to forego a gorgeous April Saturday in The Apple, this is the way to do it, right?

SAN ANTONIO — Before I get to the part where I knew him when, allow newly elected Basketball Hall of Famer Pat Riley to tell a story that might help explain why your Celtics are 61-15 and will have home-court advantage throughout the playoffs.

‘‘I have a place in Malibu, and one day two or three years ago I was taking a walk with my wife when we ran into Kevin Garnett and his wife,’’ Riley explains. ‘‘This was 10 o’clock in the morning, and we started talking. About noon the four of us went back to our place to have lunch on the deck. We continued to talk all afternoon. Things like this don’t happen with opponents very often; they just don’t. Usually, it’s just a handshake and goodbye. And let me say I wasn’t recruiting him or anything. It was just something very enjoyable you rarely get to do.

‘‘He wanted to ask questions. We talked about winning. And you could tell that he was desperate to win. We wound up spending about eight hours together, and when it was over, I was thinking, ‘Man, would I like to coach that guy!’

‘‘I think the Celtics can do it, and what I like about it is that, even with Kevin there, and all he’s meant to them, it’s not about one guy. He won’t allow that. He wants to be over there on the side. They have a legit chance. My personal pick would be their defense against anyone else’s offense.

‘‘But what a trade,’’ Riley laughs. ‘‘They’re going to have to check out what happened with Danny [Ainge] and Kevin [McHale]. I’m not saying there was anything surreptitious, but keep an eye out and see if Kevin winds up working for the Celtics in five years.’’
(Attention, David Stern: the president and coach of the Miami Heat was just kidding).

Anyway, Pat Riley has been elected to the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame to honor his five NBA titles, and has any new electee ever been more in need of a pick-me-up? As has been well-documented, he has been taking leave of his coaching duties of late to take an up-close-and-personal look at the obvious top lottery picks in the 2008 draft. In case you haven’t heard, his Heat, just two years removed from a championship, are the certified worst team in the NBA with a 13-64 record.

‘‘This business of personal scouting is an easy call,’’ he says. ‘‘If you’re going through the pain we are, and if we get lucky in the lottery, we must make sure we make the right first pick. We can’t have a Portland situation, picking first and passing up Michael Jordan.’’

The Riley image is so firmly fixed in the contemporary American consciousness — the Gordon Gekko hair, which is actually the Pat Riley hair appropriated by Michael Douglas; the expensive suits; the catch phrases, etc. — it’s a good thing there are a few of us around who remember Pat Riley long before he was a CEO. It really is as if there are two separate people.

When I first met the original Pat Riley, for example, he was the odd man out on the 1976 Suns playoff roster, the 13th man on a 12-man team. He was happy to hang around Paul Westphal’s pool, happy to have somewhere to go. It would have been a bit far-fetched to project that guy into the famed multi-millionaire celebrity coach he has become.

In addition to which .....

Do many young NBA fans, for example, know of his demigod status as a Kentucky Wildcat, or that he played for Adolph Rupp?

Do many young NBA fans know of his nine-year career or his role as a key sub on the 1971-72 Lakers, who won 69 games?

Do many young NBA fans know that he actually spent a year (1976-77) following his retirement from active playing out of basketball entirely, that he got back into the game as a color man for legendary Lakers play-by-play man Chick Hearn, who didn’t really need a color man, or that he was placed on the bench as an assistant in a chain of events that began when coach Jack McKinney, only weeks into his Lakers tenure, fell off a bike and suffered a major head injury early in the 1979-80 season, or that he assumed control in the 1980-81 season when Magic Johnson staged a (needed) coup to depose Paul Westhead, the man who had succeeded McKinney?

Riley admits there was a certain arrogance about him in those early days. ‘‘I had all these great players,’’ he recalls. ‘‘I had Kareem, Magic, James Worthy, Bob McAdoo, Michael Cooper, and I thought it was all about me. I was coach of ‘Showtime.’ All I can say is that I’m a lot different at 63 than I was at 35.’’

Here’s one Celtics fans will love. ‘‘I choked away the series in ’84,’’ he admits. ‘‘Game 2. We’re up 2 and we get the ball and I call timeout with the greatest ballhandler and playmaker in the game in possession of the ball. I call timeout to set up a great inbounds play, which might as well have been called ‘Throw it to Gerald Henderson.’.’’

There’s more. ‘‘I completely mishandled the McHale takedown of [Kurt] Rambis [in Game 4],’’ he says. ‘‘I realize all Kevin wanted to do was stop a layup on a fast break, but back then I was all fired up. I got in the huddle and said, ‘If Bird goes to the hoop, knock him on his ass,’ and I lost focus.’’

But he loved those days. ‘‘There was never a better hard-fought rivalry than the Lakers and the Celtics,’’ he maintains. ‘‘We were so competitive it was hard for us to even talk to each other. There was respect, but it was hard to like them. That’s why I was flabbergasted when Larry asked me to do the foreword on his book. That was a real rivalry. I don’t know that we have those kind anymore. I’m talking about something that had nothing to do with branding or marketing to get in the way. It was, pure and simple, about winning, with maybe an occasional commercial thrown in there.’’

You could write a book about how Riley went from the guy who coached ‘‘Showtime’’ in LA to the guy who singlehandedly may have turned the NBA into glorified sumo wrestling when he was with the Knicks, but there is no question he has been a compelling and influential coaching figure in basketball for nearly 30 years. There isn’t any debate about his qualifications to be in the Hall of Fame.

He likes the timing, too. ‘‘We are the luckiest class in Hall of Fame history,’’ he says. ‘‘With Dick Vitale as a member, we’ll be promoted every day for the rest of our lives.’’

It has come to my attention that there are folks in our midst who are upset over the composition of the 2008 Final Four. So, not for the first time, I ask the rhetorical question, "Where do these people come from?"

We have four No. 1 seeds. And this is not a good thing? Really? This must mean we have the four teams judged by the selection committee to have been the four worthiest teams in the land when the tournament began. We're just not used to seeing the four best teams show up for the Final Four, because, well, since they went to the current 1-through-16 regional seeding format in 1985 we've never had all four No. 1 seeds get to the final weekend. For whatever reason.

Yeah, yeah, I know. There are no Cinderellas, no George Masons. As far as I'm concerned all that means is that we don't have someone getting a walkover into the Finals. The two teams with the honor of playing Monday night will have earned it. There will be no doubt they have beaten a very good team to get there.

Cinderella is back home in Davidson, N.C. getting her rest. Was I rooting for Davidson last Sunday afternoon? Of course. It was a great story, and Davidson was a likeable team. Like most people, I'm still wondering why coach Bob McKillop had Stephen Curry bringing the ball up for that last possession, thereby guaranteeing he'd be double-teamed and thus forced to give it up, but, whatever. Isn't the idea with Curry to run him off screens? Has anyone ever suggested he's Kobe II, able to create his own shot at any moment? So why was he on the ball?

It's too late now. Curry never got to shoot and now the Wildcats are home, where, frankly, they belong. Is there any doubt Davidson would have been as outclassed as George Mason was against Florida two years ago?

The time for Cinderella to strut her stuff is past. What makes the NCAA tournament so great is that it has three distinct aspects. That Friday when Davidson beat Gonzaga (hardly a shock) and the three 12s beat the 5s was exhilarating. Davidson beating Georgetown, a team I really liked? Exquisite. That's what the first weekend is all about.

The second weekend has often provided us with more thrills. Not this year. The second weekend was a dud, not because the four top seeds advanced, but because only one, Kansas, had any challenge at all. I mean, I was in Houston and pumped up for what I thought would be a great weekend of basketball. I never dreamed Texas would toy with Stanford or that Memphis would humiliate Michigan State. Beat 'em, sure? But embarrass 'em? No. But I was even more surprised when Memphis simply trashed Texas, moving to an astonishing 50-20 halftime lead. Memphis was very impressive, but we had all been cheated out of a decent basketball game.

But now we've got the four No. 1s, and how can that be a bad thing? How can anyone professing to love the game not be excited about the prospect of a Memphis-UCLA (allowing us a chance to rhapsodize about a certain 21-for-22) and North Carolina-Kansas doubleheader, or whatever pairing we wind up with on Monday night? How could anyone professing to love the game not be fired up about seeing the likes of Tyler Hansbrough, Kevin Love, Derek Rose, Brandon Rush, Wayne Ellington, Ty Lawson, Darren Collison, Chris Douglas-Roberts, and Mario Chalmers, all under the same roof?

Had I really thought Davidson had a chance, that would be one thing. But the carriage was going to turn back into a pumpkin at some point, and that was that. What we now have is far better. We have the four best teams. Forgive me for being excited.

There are many types of columns. One hardy perennial is what I call the push-the-button column.

What this means is that there are columns you know will push the buttons of angry fans. Now I do not write one of these columns for that purpose. I cannot write something I don't believe. I have never written for effect or to rile people up for its own sake But there are times when you know you will generate response, and said response is far more likely to be negative than positive.

I wrote such a column for the Sunday, March 9 Globe. The subject was Brett Favre, who had announced his retirement from the NFL in a teary press conference earlier that week. I had been kidding about him all year during various TV appearances, saying on the ESPN "Sports Reporters" show that I was "Favred out." And I was.

My problem wasn't his playing. He had a tremendous year for the Packers. But I was put off by the adulation that bordered on canonization, particularly by the networks. I know the case for Brett Favre. I could write it myself. Toughest QB alive. Three-time MVP. All-time leader in completions, yardage, and TD passes. Never missed a game. Overcame addiction to painkillers and alcohol. Does great charity work. Just someone who seems totally accessible as a personality to the fans. Perhaps the most popular Packer ever. Etc. etc., etc.

But the networks acted as if it were Brett Favre and the 43 Dwarfs. He had a great year, yes, but the Packers were also good because they had a really good defense and because they found a running back in Ryan Grant. This all reached a peak on Thanksgiving Day, when it was billed as St. Brett vs. the Lions. Anyway, that's the way I saw it.

I also wanted to put Favre in the proper historical perspective. To me, he's barely in the Top 10 all-time, and I surely wouldn't want him QBing a game I absolutely, positively need to win, since his notorious recklessness makes him the most likely candidate of all the great QBs in history to throw the foolish, game-killing interception. To me, this was rather obvious.

Now I fully expected the response to be overwhelmingly negative. 3-to-1, 4-to-1. Maybe even 10-to-1. So I'm pleasantly surprised to report that, with most precincts having reported, the tally is as follows:

Yea --- 100
Nay --- 106
Neutral --- 19

The most interesting aspect of the response is that so many of the people who said, "Yeah, I got a little sick of the Favre adulation" and, "Yeah, he's overrated" and, "Yeah, the INTs drive me crazy" came from Wisconsin. It's obvious there is a brave cadre of Favre critics who live a quiet life, not unlike the members of the French resistance during WWII. They dare not voice their Favre feelings in public, but they're darn glad I spoke for them.

Most of the negative fans had a predictable tone. You don't know anything about quarterbacks. You don't know anything about Brett Favre. You don't know anything about football. You don't know anything about sports. You don't know anything about anything. You should retire. You should be fired. You should die.

That's entirely normal. All columnists learn to expect this. You can't take it personally. It's just people blowing off steam because you have insulted their favorite (pick one) team, player, coach, state, whatever.

And I welcome that. It's all part of the fun. Sports arguments are what keep us all going in this business.

But there were a few who just don't get it. It always amuses me when people come up with various conspiracy theories. I took issue with Favre because I'm a Tom Brady fan, or because the Patriots lost. Not true. Utterly irrelevant. Nothing to do with anything.

The other thing some people believe is that I would write that just to be controversial, or, as a couple of them put it, "to make a name for myself." I've been writing here since 1968. By this time I either have a "name" or I don't. It's a little too late for that.

Do I care if people agree with me? To some extent, sure. If you believe you're advocating a reasonable position, well, sure, it would be nice to have some approval. If it's zero to 100 against, something is wrong. I wouldn't be real comfortable with 10-90, either.

But in this case, due to the nature of things I was expecting to get hooted down, big-time, and I wasn't. Life's full of surprises.

Pat Riley is playing hooky from the dreadful Miami Heat in order to scout college players. I'll bet it won't be as interesting a trip as the one I once took with an NBA coach who was off doing the same thing.

The year was 1979 and the coach was Dave Cowens. The big difference between that trip and the one that Riley is scheduled to take was that Cowens only arranged to miss practices, not games. But it was an honest-to-God scouting jaunt, all right.

The funny thing in Cowens' case was that there really was no reason for him to make the trip. After all, only a few days earlier mercurial owner John Y. Brown had just traded away the three first round draft picks the Celtics had cleverly accumulated in exchange for Bob McAdoo. Player-coach Cowens had been planning this trip for a while, the purpose being to look at big men. But without the three draft picks, what difference would it make?

But we're talking about Dave Cowens here, and in my 39 years covering sports in this town I have never encountered anyone quite like Dave Cowens. Perhaps he just wanted to get away from his team for a few days. Perhaps he liked watching big men for big men's sake. Perhaps he just wanted an adventure. By God, he was making this trip. I asked if I could tag along, and he said, sure.

First, a prelude. The Celtics would be taking a somewhat leisurely five-game West Coast swing spread out over 11 days. It would begin in San Antonio on a Wednesday. It would not resume until the following Sunday night in Portland. The rest of the trip would consist of games in Oakland (Tuesday), Los Angeles (Friday), and San Diego (Sunday afternoon). Ah, those were the days.

But the McAdoo trade was a big deal. Sort of. Well, yes, it was, but things were a bit different in those days. Today, a player of that magnitude would be sent to his new team by private plane. He'd be picked up at the airport by a club official and he would be treated like royalty.

Yeah, well, Bob McAdoo arrived in San Antonio to join his new team on Wednesday afternoon. No one picked him up at the airport. Bob McAdoo strode into the lobby of the hotel where he was greeted by, well, me. Seriously. No one else was around.

He suited up that night, and while I cannot tell you how he did, I can tell you it wasn't a glorious evening in the Hemisfair for your Boston Celtics. The Spurs, won, 149-119.

The next day Dave Cowens and Yours Truly headed out to see big men. Cowens put the team in the custody of assistant coach Bob MacKinnon and they flew to Portland.

Our first stop was Reno. We were going to see Nevada-Reno, with Edgar Jones, play the University of San Francisco, with Bill Cartwright, at the Reno Auditorium, or whatever they called it. There were plenty of NBA scouts there, including the legendary Marty Blake, the league's head of scouting, who informed me that Cartwright was the best center prospect to be presented to the NBA in 10 years.

I, of course, had already decided I didn't like Cartwright, whom I had seen in the Cow Palace for that great USF team two years earlier. It wasn't that he couldn't play. I just hated everything about his game, especially that god-awful ugly shot of his.

Now Edgar, of course, was something else. The prevailing folklore was that Edgar was in no danger of Mensa recruitment, that, in fact, he had not quite understood the difference between Nevada-Reno (now University of Nevada) and UNLV, and that when he appeared on the doorstep of the Rebels they politely pointed him north, in the general direction of the Wolfpack. Sounds to me as if would have been an ideal Tark player. Anyway ...

There was also the matter of Edgar's look, which was distinguished by the fact that he had a ready-made NHL mouth; i.e. no teeth.

I don't remember a whole lot about that game, other than I'm sure USF won. Nor do I recall any pertinent Cowens observations about either of the big men in question.

You all know what happened to Cartwright. As aesthetically unpleasing as his game was, it was good enough to get him a 15-year career in the league, and he got three rings with the Bulls. Edgar Jones played for four teams in six wild-and-wooly seasons, and I'll never forget the game in which Kevin McHale deliberately fouled himself out of a game in order that Edgar Jones wouldn't hurt him, and, no, I'm not making that up.

It wasn't all work and no play. We were, after all, in Nevada. Casinos beckoned. I was a casino virgin, this being my first trip to Nevada, and all. So we went to the blackjack tables, where Cowens staked me to a few chips, and where I proceeded to invoke the Beginner's Luck clause in my contract to the approximate tune of $250.

The original itinerary had called for trips to Reno, Las Vegas, and Corvallis, Ore., but the Vegas thing fell through for some reason so we went to Corvallis, where the three big men he'd be evaluating were Steve Johnson of Oregon State, as well as Stuart House and James Donaldson of Washington State. After tipping the dealer, dinner was on me. And I've seldom played, and never won, again.

We went to dinner prior to the Oregon State-Washington State game, and Dave had no sense of urgency. All he was worried about was playing "Rocky Top" on the jukebox. I abhor being late for anything, but he was in charge. So we strolled into Gill Coliseum four or five minutes into the game. Worse yet, we had to go to like the 25th row. You think anyone noticed this big redhead and his flunky making this grand entrance?

The game goes along for a while, and now Cowens makes an observation. He says, and this is pretty close to a verbatim quote, "I feel sorry for this guy Donaldson, having to go through life that clumsy."

Donaldson was 7-1 and listed at 275, and he was certainly no candidate to be on "Dancing With The Stars," then or now. But he would carve out a 14-year NBA career. So Dave might have been a bit hasty. House never played in the NBA.

The 6-9 Johnson, then a sophomore, stayed for the full four years, becoming the No. 1 pick of the Kansas City Kings (7th overall) in 1981.

He once led the league in field goal percentage, and he was a three-time leader in both personal fouls and disqualifications. He was a strange combo: a finesse player on offense and a butcher on defense.

I will never forget Gill Coliseum, which remains the home of the Beavers. That thing has 12 gargantuan girders holding up the roof. I have never seen such girders.

The game in Corvallis was on Friday night. We drove to Portland on Saturday, but not before stopping at a roadhouse kind of place to have a few beers and watch John Tate KO Duane Bobick in the first round. We went to the movies that night in Portland. The flick was "Movie, Movie."

With Dave there would invariably be a lot of laughs, but one thing we hardly discussed on that trip was the team. So I was more than a little surprised on Sunday night when the starting lineup was announced and McAdoo was in. Dave had taken himself out of the lineup. Knowing Dave, he had probably decided to do it five minutes before tip-off.

I should point out that the Celtics really didn't need any of those draft picks. All they had to do was make sure they signed the guy they had drafted the year before. It was a 6-9 forward out of Indiana State named Larry Bird.

I'm also going to guess Riles hasn't agreed to have any members of the Miami media tag along with him. Just a hunch.

Now that's what I'm talkin' about...

Forget about the fact that by winning the Celtics seal a 2-1 season's series edge over the dreaded Pistons, something that would serve as a tiebreaker if needed. Forget about the fact that the victory, combined with convenient losses by the Nets, Pacers, and Hawks, makes the Celtics the first NBA team to clinch a playoff spot (with an astonishing 23 games remaining). Forget about the bragging rights the Celtics now have (until the seemingly inevitable Eastern Conference Finals begin in May).

The real significance of what transpired at the Gahden on Wednesday night was what took place when the game was over. I was there strictly in an observer's capacity, so I blew out of there as soon as the game concluded. And as soon as I left the building, what did I encounter? What I encountered was an exiting crowd almost giddy with excitement. Their Celtics had just given them the gift of a memorable performance on an otherwise drab evening in early March. Their Celtics had just delivered the goods.

These were people who, like their forebearers in 1968, '78 and '88, had come into a late season game full of anticipation. They had spent all day antsy and itchy, eager to get on with it. They had spent all day thinking about the matchups, thinking about the ramifications and thinking about seeing plain good old-fashioned basketball.

This is what the Celtics have done: they have restored meaning to the regular season. They have given people a proper season's experience.

This is what matters. Do not listen to people who say it's only about championships and only about the playoffs. It can't be if there is to be any meaning to this whole thing known as fandom. The fact is that the playoff dynamic is quirky. Luck and circumstance play a large role. If you invest in a sports team for the sole purpose of seeing it through to a championship, and for no other reason, the overwhelming odds are that you will
be disappointed.

I beg Patriots fans to stop moping. Their team provided them with four unmatched months worth of thrills and satisfaction. Their team elevated and dignified the game. They came within one Asante Samuel INT, one Eli Manning miracle escape (and, from what I now gather, one monumentally uncalled hold on Richard Seymour), and one sensational David Tyree catch of winning the Super Bowl. They were 35 seconds from victory. You know what? There is no truer statement in sports than "You can't win 'em all." Sometimes, it's just not your day. I urge Patriots fans to recall the many glowing feelings they had watching this team play so magnificently for 18 games. That is what it's all about.

And I now call upon the Celtics fans to do the same. Could this team win it all? Sure. It could. I don't think it will, but it sure could, and I'm anxious to see it try. But if it doesn't, does that mean that all these wonderful exhibitions of, yup, Celtic basketball we have all been witness to in the months of November, December, January, February, and, doubtless, April will not have happened? Will it erase the memories of nights such as Wednesday, when their team walked the walk against a quality opponent? It should not.

I have made that same walk out of that same door since the new Gahden opened in 1995. And I am here to tell you that I do not recall a comparable buzz. Now I'm sure it was that way on that Sunday afternoon when the Bombs Away team came from 20 back in the fourth quarter to beat the Nets in '02, but I worked that game and so by the time I left no one was around. That, of course, was a playoff game, so, sure, there was a buzz.

But I have made that walk many, many nights after regular season losses, and even routine regular season wins, or even pretty good regular season wins, and I have not been in the company of so many jabbering, smiling, flat-out deliriously happy people as I was on Wednesday. Everything they had spent all day wishing for had materialized. Their Celtics had come through, mucho big-time.

A few random thoughts about the game ...

Kevin Garnett was magnificent, of course. How about Paul Pierce restricting himself to 9 shots, but making the team's only threes, including what was perhaps the game's biggest basket? Kendrick Perkins had those 20 manly rebounds, to go with aggressive defense (and a couple or three defensive three-second violations) and smart finishing when needed. Ray Allen had an off-night offensively (1 for 9), but he buckled his chin strap for 8 rebounds and kept his head up for 5 assists. And did anyone even notice Rip Hamilton, save for one straightaway three-pointer? No, they did not. Give that credit to Ray Allen.

But the person who intrigued me the most was Rajon Rondo. How did you like the way he responded to that 18-point Chauncey Billups third quarter? That was a Bleep You Statement Dunk if I've ever seen one. And I just loved his demeanor in the fourth quarter, capping it off with that tough leaner in the lane. He just seems to gain more and more court maturity with every passing game.

And Big Baby. How much do we love Big Baby? It's almost becoming a cliche now, but I don't know any other way to say it: He just knows how to play. We're just not seeing this kind of instinct and precocious court in a package that's 6-8 and Lord-Knows-What; that's all. I just know he's very difficult to keep from getting to the offensive boards, that he can pass, that he runs around setting picks, that he works extremely hard on defense and that he has a tremendous left hand. He's very effective, and he's just flat-out F-U-N.

Will this game have any true bearing on the playoffs? No. But right now I'm not concerned with the playoffs. Back in 1986 I honestly believed that the Celtics of Larry, Kevin, Chief, D.J., Danny, Walton, et al had rendered meaningless the concept of the meaningless game. This team is on its way to doing the same thing.

This Celtics team gave everyone who loves basketball in this town something to look forward to all day Wednesday, and then it put on an exhilarating show on Wednesday night. That's what I'm talkin' about.

But first things first...

I have never seen a more obviously stunned and surprised Oscar victor than Tilda Swinton when her name was called as recipient of the Best Actress In A Supporting Role on Sunday night. And if she was acting, then we have a 2008 Emmy winner on our hands.

That she had done a good job as that evil lawyer in "Michael Clayton" was never in question. But I cannot recall a single story in the run-up to the Oscars that gave her the prize. The consensus favorite was Amy Ryan for her portrayal of the all-too-real Southie mom in "Gone Baby Gone," and I confess I was rooting hard for her as a local favorite. That movie was a home team film, all right, and Amy Ryan spit out sparks every time she opened her mouth.

Tilda was regarded as little more than a 16 seed, happy to get into the tournament. No way she expected to win.

Gotta love Tilda, though. Talk about unusual living arrangements. Back home in Scotland the 47-year old actress lives with a guy two decades her senior with whom she has 10-year old twins. Nothing wrong with that. Well, except that she has taken up of late with a 29-year old artist, who has moved in with her and the original guy in a menage-a-cinq of some sort.

In other words, Tilda Swinton is simultaneously a Jennifer and a Cougar. Now that's the role of a lifetime!

There were no surprises in the other major awards. Javier Bardem was a 1-seed as Best Actor In A Supporting Role. It was a very strong category. Many people loved Hal Holbrook for "Into The Wild." I'm sure John McCain did. I was really pulling for Philip Seymour Hoffman, if only to acknowledge that, without question, he was the true Actor Of The Year.

I mean, here's a guy who was sensational in three 2008 releases. He was the self-absorbed prof in "The Savages." He was the despicable loser executing the robbery of his own parents' jewelry store in "Before The Devil Knows You're Dead." And he was the wise-cracking CIA type in "Charlie Wilson's War," for which he was nominated. No actor or actress had a better year. You wish that counted for something.

Like many, ahem, seniors, I had a rooting interest in the eternally hot Julie Christie for her performance in "Away From Her." But how could anyone have a problem with Marion Cotillard for her portrayal of Edith Piaf in "La Vie En Rose?" The only slight problem I have with her triumph is that it continues a recent trend of rewarding people playing real people in biopics. It's almost to the point where that might have to become a separate category. I said "almost."

Daniel Day-Lewis was, of course, the lock de tutti locks in the Best Actor category. Once again, there were some very worthy contenders, but this was not just a 1-seed. This was UCLA in 1968. Lew Alcindor and Friends weren't losing that year, and neither was Day-Lewis in '08.

I knew the Coen Brothers would get Best Director(s), for "No Country For Old Men," but the Academy would have shown me something had they given that prize to Julian Schnabel for "The Diving Bell And The Butterfly," a flick in which he managed to tell the story of a prime-of-life stroke victim (43), able to move only his left eyelid, while somehow making you smile, at least occasionally. The movie is told from the viewpoint of the victim in an ingenious manner. If that's not Grade A directing, I give up.

As has happened far too often of late, there was no picture worthy of the title "Best." Of the nominees, my favorite was "Michael Clayton," but I knew that had zero chance. 'No Country" was the prohibitive 1 seed favorite, and it came through. I'm a Coen Brothers fan, but in case you're unfamiliar with their work, I'm here to tell you this movie was not their best. It's no "Fargo;" I'll tell you that.

My happiest moment came when they gave the "Best Song" prize to Glen Hansard of "Once," not because the song was so memorable, but because "Once" itself was my most enjoyable movie experience of 2008. And bravo to whomever gave the okey-dokey for Marketa Irgrova, Hansard's co-star, to come back after a commercial break and give her sweet thank-you speech to the world after getting the musical get-off-the-stage brush-off (as did many others). She deserved her moment.

By the way, among the many virtues of this superb film was the fact that, unlike 99 percent of modern movies, it actually knew how to end properly.

If you're some, like, you know, Guy, and you want to demonstrate to your Sweet Patootie that you're more than just some slob who pines for Porky VII, rent this movie for her. You will thank me, early and often.

ALL RIGHT, SPORTS, IF YOU INSIST
I'm not used to having a boss who knows and loves college basketball more than I do, but that happens to be the case. The guy even blogs his St. Joes' brains out for us. So I hesitate to offer any opinions on the subject.

But I'll say this.

I won't be shocked, but I might be awed, if some weirdo team wins it all this year. I say that because we now have conclusive proof that there ain't no number one.

Tennessee had it for about an hour and a half, but whoever believed they really were, you know, numero uno? Memphis will now run the table entering the tournament, but we know they're far from invincible. Carolina will be the be the next No. 1, but are you buying that? Kansas? Texas? Duke? UCLA? (maybe). It's not like this is a bad thing. I like the idea of a nice competitive tournament.

Meanwhile, Michael Beasley makes the game look ridiculously easy. K-State may not be a great team, but they're a team you pray gets to the sub-regional you bought tickets to 12 months ago, while also praying your team doesn't draw them in the first round because he could drop 5-0 on you.

Dunkmania once again grips America, and once again I find myself asking why?

Well, sure Dwight Howard is creative. Great. Has anyone noticed that he's 7-feet tall?

It makes a difference.

In a better, saner world, no one over that 6-6/6-7ish range could enter a dunk contest. Period.

It's that simple.

I was more impressed with Gerald Green. Love that cupcake thing.

But, really, what's the matter with everyone, slobbering over Howard when he's 7-feet tall? Oh, I forgot. He's athletic. We're supposed to be dazzled that a 7-foot guy can do what Dwight Howard did Saturday night.

Excuse me, but do you really think he is more athletic than Kevin Garnett, who is also 7-feet tall? Well, he isn't.

Nor is he more athletic than the prime-of-life Wilt Chamberlain, who ran the quarter mile and threw the shot in his spare time. Wilt wasn't famous for specific dunks. He just flushed entire teams with his power moves. I assure you that if the 1959 Wilt were re-incarnated today and were asked to devote a little time to dunking as an art form, he could do anything Dwight Howard did.

Sorry if I sound like an old f-word, but somebody has to bring a little perspeective to this debate, and I'm nominating myself in the apparent absence of other interested candidates.

As for Gerald Green, would that he spent as much time learning the T-Wolves plays or figuring out how to defend the pick-and-roll as he does conjuring up dunks involving edibles.

For the record, the greatest dunker I ever saw was 6-5. His name was Jackie Jackson and he was the original pick-a-quarter-off-the-top-of-the-backboard guy. And the greatest performer in the history of ABA or NBA dunk contests remains Spud Webb, for obvious reasons.

By the way, Jackie Jackson, like Wilt, was in full athletic flower during the 50s and 60s. Hate to disillusion you young-uns, but "athleticism" was alive and well four and five decades ago.

Coming Up: A look at ESPN's Top 25 College Basketball Player list.

I read an interview the other day with Tom Coughlin in which he claimed that the team committing the fewest turnovers wins 86 percent of all NFL playoff games. I can't verify that, but that is a chilling number.

So here we have the Chargers, with 48 takeaways, against the Pats, with a league-low 15 giveaways. Do you realize that no Patriots wide receiver or running back lost a fumble this year? Losing or not losing after the ball gets loose is pretty random and circumstantial, we all know that. But none, zip, zilch? That's truly amazing.

I anticipate yet another opponent playing its best football against the Pats. But I can't see it making any difference, can you? The one thing I'm anticipating is the Chargers bringing the house on many occasions against Brady. Surely they won't allow him to set up shop back there for the entire game, the way Jacksonville did after that opening sack. They've got to risk getting burned every once in a while in the hopes of putting him on the ground, or, at least, making him throw something he doesn't really want to throw. The alternative is madness.

You do realize that the Moss flap has riled up the vast anti-Patriots movement even more. He is, after all, one third of what could be construed as a three-pronged Patriots Axis of Evil, along with, I would presume, the coach and, I would guess, Rodney Harrison, who lived up to his image with those two not-needed 15-yarders last week. Not that it matters to the Pats, of course. They have taken rather well to this national Us vs. Them scenario. It may make for a messy offseason for number 81, but his mates will rally around their beleaguered wide-out. It will be of no consequence on Sunday.

Don't forget to pack your sunglasses for the Arizona trip.

MARKET CORRECTION?

The giddiness of November and December will not return. The Celtics remain on target to win 60-something, but the final tally doesn't matter. The goal will be to prepare for the playoffs, and there is no doubt there are vulnerabilities, and it's nothing people don't already know.

Danny MUST address the point guard situation. They really need Rajon Rondo to initiate both their offense and their defense, and that doesn't mean he's anywhere close to being a complete player or a star. It's just that he's the only point guard they have --- although Doc did take a look at Gabe Pruitt on Wednesday --- and they're not the same team without him.

Apparently, it's far easier said than done. And, no they don't want Gary Payton.

Secondly, they could use a 6-9, 6-10 guy who is better than Scot Pollard, better then Big Baby and better than Brian Scalabrine. I realize Pollard will have his moments banging around people and I like Big Baby's enthusiasm, as well as the breadth of his game (this kid can pass), but refs aren't going to respect him, and he will be out of his element in some games. One more useful big man would be nice.

Now I am not a betting man, but if you are, and there is such a thing as a futures wager, put a wad down on the Trail Blazers to win it all in 2010-2011. In that season, Greg Oden will be in his second year, Brandon Roy will be in his fourth, Steve Blake will be in his sixth, Martell Webster will be in his sixth, LaMarcus Aldridge will be in his fourth, Jarrett Jack will be in his fourth, Channing Frye will be in his fifth, James Jones will be in his sixth, Travis Outlaw will be in his sixth, Sergio Rodriguez will be in his fourth and Joel Przybilla will be in his ninth. And he will be the only one of this bunch over 30.

They won't all be there, of course. Moves will be made. But based on his early track record, GM Kevin Pritchard will make the right moves. This is a fabulous nucleus. Brandon Roy is downright Kobe-esque. I loooooove the Trail Blazers.

FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT

How does Boston College lose to Robert Morris, at home, and then run up 112 five nights later against Wake Forest? Is that your question?

Because that's their nature; that's why. That's what happens when three of your first seven players are freshmen, when your 6-11 center doesn't seem to realize how good he is and your best player is an electrifying 6-foot guard. Oh, and your so-called power forward is a cheating' 6-3.

BC is an interesting team. I figured they'd be good for 17 W’s, max, and an NIT berth. But they already have 12 wins, and that's with losing the aforementioned home game to a Northeast Conference foe, which should not happen. They're talented enough to beat any ACC foe at home, with the obvious exception of North Carolina (Duke doesn't come here). They're also erratic enough to lose to anyone, anywhere, at any time.

The freshmen are 6-5ish Rakim Sanders, 6-6ish Corey Raji and 6-2ish Biko Paris. These kids can all play. But they will be all over the spectrum as the season unfolds.

The 6-11 center is Tyrell Blair, a legit big-time shot blocker who has the ability to score 15 points-per-game but who, on some nights, is offensively invisible. He is a relatively late-bloomer whose best basketball is ahead of him. I'm not saying there is an NBA in his future, but I will tell you that there is indeed a country for him somewhere. He will get paid to play basketball next season.

The 6-3ish power forward is Shamari Spears. Against foes of limited athleticism and skill, he can operate very effectively. Against a typical ACC player, he is overmatched physically, especially since he is a wide body with limited lift. Think of him as an A-league Craig Smith or Danya Abrams.

The best player on the team is, of course, Tyrese Rice, the latest in a long line of outstanding BC guards that goes as least as far as Tom O'Brien in the late forties and which, frankly, stacks up with just about any big-time basketball power you can name. In fact, if you want to start the Mother Of All BC Basketball Arguments, tell someone he must give you an All-Time BC backcourt. Trust me, it's not easy.

Anyway, Rice is a tremendous scorer. If you haven't seen this kid play in person, you should.

HE MADE 'NEXT YEAR' HAPPEN

Johnny Podres died last Sunday. He was 75.

Long before it was chic to wallow in Red Sox misery, there were the Brooklyn Dodgers, who were an enormously popular team that had never won a World Series. They lost World Series in 1920, 1941, 1947, 1949, 1952, and 1953, not to mention being beaten out for the National League pennant in a 1946 playoff with the Cardinals, as well as being victimized on the last days of both the 1950 and 1951 seasons. The perennial fan cry was "Wait 'Till Next Year."

But they finally broke through in 1955, and the primary reason was the left arm of the 23-year old Podres, who, with his team down, 0-2, beat the Yanks on his 23d birthday and then won Game 7 with a 2-0 shutout.

You young'uns have no idea how huge this was. "I guarantee, there was more celebrating in Brooklyn that day than there was for the end of World War II," said Dodgers general manager Buzzy Bavasi.

Podres is even a footnote in Celtics history. For when the Lakers beat the Celtics in Game 6 of the 1985 NBA Finals here in Boston, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, a Manhattan native and knowledgeable baseball fan, said, "I feel like Johnny Podres."

Podres had a fine career, finishing a 15-year career with a 148-116 record. He pitched in three subsequent World Series and he appeared in three All-Star games. His best year was in 1961, when he went 18-5, with a league-leading 2.66 ERA and six shutouts.

But he only needed that one victory in 1955 to be remembered in Brooklyn forever.

It's now 48-5.

Since Game 4 of the ALCS, when the Red Sox were down 3-1 to the Indians, the Sawx, Pats and Celts have a combined record of 49-6. The three losses have been by one point, in OT and two points on a (totally valid) call with one-tenth of a second left in a tie game. That loss to the Detroit Pistons is the only time anyone has seen one of those three teams lose a game at home since Oct. 17.

Please do NOT take any of this for granted. In terms of being a sports fan, this is beyond sick.

Everyone has had his or her say on the Pats. The record truly does speak for itself. We've all seen them react precisely the way a special team has to act when tested. Starting with the Eagles, teams have consistently brought their A-plus games. The Eagles, Ravens, Steelers, Jets, Dolphins and Giants all played over their heads in maniacal attempts to derail the Pats. All fell short.

But the aura of invincibility is gone. If you are playing from behind in the fourth quarter, you are certifiably mortal. The Patriots certainly have moments when they look quite vulnerable defensively. We know we'd like to turn the clock back a few years on their linebackers, and we all worry every time a pass is launched in the direction of Ellis Hobbs. We wonder why there isn't more of a consistent pass rush. Eli Manning could have spent a good portion of last Saturday night's game wearing a tux.

Still, it always seems to work out. The big play, the big stop, the big something is made and the Pats hold. Is there any reason to think that won't continue to be the case in the next three games? No, there isn't.

Brady? I was one who said he was a pup from the Montana litter from the start. A fourth Super Bowl would make him Montana's postseason equal. He has a computer for a brain, a howitzer for an arm and a competitive zeal second to none. The fact that he has made himself into what he is after being the 199th player selected in an NFL draft is, and always will be, one of the great stories in American sport history. If you want to know how this became remotely possible, I cannot recommend strongly enough that you seek out a copy of Charlie Pierce's informative Brady bio, "Moving The Chains," and I would say that even if Charlie worked for the Herald and was not a friend of mine. If you care about Brady, the Pats or football in general, you must read this book.

And if you're wondering just how Coach Bill got where he is, you must also get David Halberstam's "The Education of a Coach," and I'd say that even if he also hadn't have been a friend of mine. Hey, I try to hang around with smart people; what can I say?

Homina Homina

Yeah, I'm in a Ralph Kramden mode. I'm not sure exactly what to say about the phenomenon known as the Boston Celtics.

All I can say is that I watched every bounce of the ball in the Celtics-Lakers game, even though it was quite clear it was over early in the fourth quarter. I have reached the point where I simply cannot get enough.

What is increasingly evident is that the 2007-2008 Boston Celtics are far, far from a finished product. No, Messrs. Garnett, Pierce and Allen won't be getting any better individually. But Kendrick Perkins and Rajon Rondo get better all the time. Meanwhile, James Posey and Eddie House, two superb pick-ups on the Sammy Morris level (a notch or two below Wes Welker's), seem to be getting more and more comfortable in their roles. Scot Pollard now seems to be settling in as Doc's chosen rotation back-up center (at Big Baby's expense), and that, too bodes well, since you need that experience in the big games.

The X-factor is Tony Allen, who is still trying to figure out who he is as a player in the aftermath of rather serious knee surgery. He's still in-between. One night he's laying the ball in on a sneakaway that represents the icing on a Utah victory cake, and the next night he' s landing in a terrifyingly awkward manner after a needless dunk in LA. But let the record show that he was excellent against the Lakers, although I would not go so far as to say he was really a "point guard." But if that designation makes him feel happy, I'm more than willing to roll with it.

As I watch this team I am continually amazed at how easy they generally make it all look. That's what a very good team does, of course. Very good teams know how to play off each other. I've been fortunate enough in my time here to cover two Celtic teams that elevated basketball to an art. Both the Havlicek-Cowens-White-Silas-Nelson Celtics teams of the 70s and the Larry-Kevin-Chief-Max-Tiny-DJ teams of the 80s knew how to make life easy for everyone involved. Throw in the Russell teams, none of which I was privileged to cover, but the last six of which I was able to watch, and I had considered myself blessed to be a basketball lover living and working in Boston since 1964.

I had resigned myself to never seeing anything like those teams around here again. No one has a right to that much basketball bliss. My cup had already runneth over.

But here they are, the 2007-2008 Celtics. I still think the Pistons are the team to beat in the East, and that's fine. The point is that the Celtics have brought elegant professional basketball back to us. I cannot imagine even the most hard-head, cynical old-timer not enjoying this team. I don't know how many they'll win or how deep they'll go into the playoffs. I just know that every Celtic game is appointment viewing.

If the true essence of sport is giving fans hope and always providing them with something to look forward to, just think about January. The Patriots will be marching to the Super Bowl, even as the Celtics are putting on glorious hoop productions, night after night. Damn right it's going to be a Happy New Year.

All too often we scribes really are guilty of shamelessly over-hyping an event because our main premise is just too juicy and too easy to resist.

That was not the case with Wednesday night's Celtics confrontation with the Detroit Pistons.

We all pitched this as a semester exam for the Celtics, who came into the game at 20-2 while only being tested once at home (Miami). After watching them do such things as grab a 39-point halftime lead over Denver; compile a 54-point fourth quarter lead against the Knicks; and go wire-to-wire four times, including back-to-back conquests of Golden State and LA; we were all hungering for, you know, a real game against a quality conference foe. Make that THE quality conference foe.

With all due respect to Orlando, we all knew who the team of true substance was in the East. And we also surmised that the Detroit Pistons were very much looking forward to this game against the reconstructed Celtics, whom they would want to put in their place.

Was it a great game? No. But it was good enough. The Celtics casually put up 29 first-quarter points, with Rajon Rondo playing inspired offensive basketball. But the Pistons made their statement in the second half, coming back from a 10-point deficit by clamping down on the Celtics, who only had 33 points in the second half.

There was an obvious we've-been-there-before aura surrounding the Pistons as they went about their business in the second half. Chauncey Billups decided to show young Mr. Rondo who's boss, mixing up back-in post-ups with killer long-range jumpers. It was a very impressive show. And Rasheed Wallace demonstrated that when he is focused on basketball, as opposed to coaching and officiating, he is a game-changer.

The ending was enormously frustrating, of course, but I felt a little better about it the next day. I'm sure Tony Allen was reminded not to go for Chauncey's expert pump-fake, but he could not get beyond the fear of allowing Billups an open shot. His instincts took over. He fell into Billups' trap, and that was that. You can't put Billups on the line. Ain't no way in a trillion years Chauncey's gonna miss twice.

If this were a pass-fail exam, then, of course, the Celtics would have failed. But it wasn't. There was good. There was bad. There were lessons to be learned.

I give them a B. And I look forward to the next Detroit game. That will take place in Auburn Hills on Saturday, January 5, if you're interested.

DICKIE V

I must admit it's been strange watching all these college basketball games on ESPN and never hearing the familiar sound of Dick Vitale's voice.

Just think how many people have never known college basketball without Dickie V. He broadcast ESPN's first college telecast (Wisconsin at DePaul) in 1979, and he has been its signature personality from Day 1. Love him or hate him, you've never been able to avoid him.

He has vocal cord problem, which has been addressed (hopefully) here at Massachusetts General Hospital. The target date for his return to the air is February. Let's hope.

Let me add to the chorus. Put his loud, bombastic style of doing a game over on the side for a moment. Dickie V doing a game is not for everybody, and he's not even for the people who love him 100 percent of the time. But he is on the very short list of genuinely nice and caring people who happen to make a living through organized sport. His compassion is enormous. His faults are due to an excess of zeal, not a lack of interest. He is a truly wonderful man.

So join me in wishing Dick Vitale a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year and a full and speedy recovery.

DECK THE HALL

We'll soon know whether or not Jim Rice's 14-year wait to become an official baseball Hall of Famer will end happily.

Dan Shaughnessy thinks he'll get in. I hope so. I'd like to think that all this steroid business will force people to re-evaluate the candidacies of people such as Rice, Andre Dawson and Dale Murphy, who hit a combined total of 1218 homers the old-fashioned way, with no articificial enhancement.

I voted for Rice, Goose Gossage, Bert Blyleven, Jack Morris and my hopeless candidate, Dave Concepcion. It took me a long time to come around on Gossage, Blyleven and Morris, but I am now comfortable with all three. Gossage, who got 71 percent of the vote last year (you need 75), will almost undoubtedly make it. Rice had 63 percent. Messrs. Blyleven and Morris have a way to go.

Concepcion is my current quixotic obsession. I will vote for him as long as he is eligible because I believe he was the best shortstop between WWII and Ozzie Smith. Yes, I think he was better than Reese, better than Rizzuto, better than Aparacio, better, in fact, than anyone who played the position for a 35-year period. I firmly believe it was a major mistake to enshrine Tony Perez before properly honoring Concepcion. I'm not sure Perez belongs at all. No way does he compare to Jim Rice, by the way.

People sometimes wonder how players gain or lose votes over the years. The only way someone should lose one is if there is some shocking negative revelation (oh, say, like evidence of PED usage), but I can tell you how someone can gain a vote. A voter simply changes his mind; that's all. You put a career in a different context. Someone presents you with a solid argument. You buy into something you weren't buying into before. You go out an educate yourself. It's pretty simple.

There is one intriguing new candidate on the ballot. A lot of people are making the case for Tim Raines, who was, for a time, the Alydar to Rickey Henserson's Affirmed as far as leadoff men were concerned. He's got a lot of hits (2605) and a lot of stolen bases (808), but it's hard to say he was a truly great player for more than six or seven years, which, since he played for 23 seasons, means he was a fairly ordinary player with great legs for upwards of 15 years. I'll be very interested to see how much support he attracts.

By the way, Rickey is on the ballot next year. Like many others, I cannot wait for that acceptance speech. The over/under on how far he goes into the into the speech before mentioning he was always underpaid is three paragraphs.

I believe the smiles have been wiped off our faces.

No, not the Patriots themselves. We can take them at face value when they say they never paid any real attention to the undefeated hype. They left that to us: the fans, the media, and the oddsmakers who kept making them prohibitive favorites, week after week after week.

But we all bought into it, anyway. We loved the weekly blowouts. We loved the talk about records. We loved the idea that Tom Brady might blow past Babe Ruth and Roger Maris. We loved the idea that the Patriots might really be the Greatest Team That Ever Was. It was fun to talk about, for sure.

Now reality has truly set in. The Patriots have their vulnerabilities. A pair of mediocre quarterbacks have made some big plays against them, and a quality running back such as Willis McGahee has run right through them. The Patriots have been treated with utter disrespect by a pair of teams that will not make the playoffs.

They are, however, still unblemished. They are 12-0 and they remain favored to go 16-0, and then 19-0. It's just that it's not going to be as easy to accomplish as it once looked.

First of all, they miss Rosevelt Colvin. He had blown hot and cold, true, but he was a savvy vet you could count on in big situations. That's only the half it it, however. They are down a key body. Tedy Bruschi and Junior Seau are now being stretched, perhaps past their current ability to perform. The lack of a really viable young linebacker is a problem. Pierre Woods and Eric Alexander may be OK auxiliary players, but what the Patriots could use right now is a frisky young linebacker who can really play, and they don't have one. (I think we're looking at a draft day need, not that they are known for need drafting).

But say this: when they absolutely, positively had to make defensive stops last night, they did so. One of them was made by Rodney Harrison, whose great shoetop tackle prevented what would have been a killer Baltimore first down. Please, Rodney please. Find a way to stay healthy for the remainder of the season.

On the other side of the ball, I was actually encouraged. The Ravens did a nice job on Randy Moss (although they can't take credit for him dropping a touchdown pass). They also did what no one else has done, and that is neutralize Wes Welker. But Brady now has so many weapons that it's ridiculous. Dante Stallworth was a factor early, Benjamin Watson, despite his awful drop of a TD pass, was a factor, and then there was Jabar Gaffney, who's not a bad number four receiver, eh?

By the way, did you know that in the 2000 Tennessee-Florida game, Jabar Gaffney caught a controversial game-winning touchdown pass with 14 seconds to go from Jesse (Hot Bachelor) Palmer, in which the issue was whether or not he was juggling the ball in the end zone? Neither did I until alert reader Ted McCaffrey told me.

I was further encouraged because the Patriots did get a little something out of the running game and because they found a way to get the ball into Laurence Maroney's hands with a little daylight. I'd like to see more of that.

Were they lucky? You bet your autographed picture of Horace Ivory they were lucky. Luck has always been part of any superior team's deal. The Celtics of legend were always lucky in the eyes of their opponents. The vaunted Leprechaun was always their best Sixth Man. You send Rex Ryan a thank you card and a box of chocolates, and you move on.

The officiating? I have heard all those complaints before, too. One person you didn't see complaining too much on Monday night was Brain Billick. He knew. His team started killing itself with penalties almost as soon as the game started, and it never stopped. The calls were clearly valid. Sorry, Ravens. You did it.

I find it interesting that in each of the last two weeks a sub QB having a very good game had his carriage turn into a pumpkin in the form of an unforgivable interception on a ball that should never have been thrown. "A rookie mistake by a fifth-year quarterback" is the way Steve Young described the James Sanders interception last night. He could have made a similar comment on the Asante Samuel pick last week.

Yet that's also a predictable part of the Big Picture when a team such as the Patriots comes along. Most of the time, you end up being who you are and they end up being who they are. As You Know Who loves to say, it is what it is. The Patriots can beat you by 40 or they can beat you by three, but they find a way to beat you, and you will have a hand in your own demise.

Incidentally, Brady needs nine touchdown passes in four games to beat the record. December is here. Those games will be in Foxborough and the Meadowlands. It's no lock. Then again, he'll be playing the Jets and Dolphins.

Games like the last two are great fan treats when you win. There is something to be said for leading, 35-7, at the half, but it does get boring, week after week. Games like the last two enhance the fan experience. Coming from behind is exhilarating. These are also indicators that your team has what it takes to play under extreme pressure. Common sense says you'll need to win at least one of these when the playoffs come. A little dress rehearsal is nice.

HOORAY FOR BARNEY

You'll have to bear with me on this one.

I congratulate Dick Williams on his overdue election to the Hall of Fame. I have long championed his enshrinement.

But he's not the most overdue selection. I'm sure 99.999 percent of the current fandom knows little and cares far less about Barney Dreyfuss, but I am telling you that his exclusion from the Hall all these years was the single most baffling and inexplicable oversight among all non-playing personnel in the 20th century. That's a big statement, and I'm prepared to back it up.

Barney Dreyfuss was the owner of the Pittsburgh Pirates, but he was so much more. He was, in fact, the single most important non-playing baseball figure in the first 30 years of the 20th century.

A bookkeeper by trade, the German immigrant entered baseball as the man who kept the books for a team owned by his employer, the Bernheim Distillery Company of Louisville, Ky. He would eventually own the Louisville franchise in the National League. When the National League liquidated the franchise following the 1899 season, he took his 14 best players with him to Pittsburgh.

When war broke out between the established National League and the upstart American League, Barney Dreyfuss brokered the peace. His Pittsburgh team was the first great team of the century, winning the 1902 pennant by a record 27 1/2 games, which is still the record today. A year later he issued the challenge to the Red Sox that became the first modern World Series.

No one ran a team the way Barney Dreyfuss did. He donated his own proceeds from the '03 Series, which means that the Pirates remain the only losing team ever to take home more money per man than the winners. As a fascinating twist, he had the players' checks made out to their wives. He knew full well that many a player would have squandered the earnings on, shall we say, a good time.

Wrote legendary New York Times scribe John Kieran, '"As usual, he emerged in the mantle of the victorious martyr. Always remember he contributed the entire proceeds for division among his team. No other owner has ever since duplicated this generous gesture."

He was renowned as the smartest man in baseball. No one with his baseball sense had his business head, and no one with his business smarts had his baseball acumen. He was entrusted with making up the league schedule, for example, and it was said of him by an anonymous obit writer in 1932 that "all other magnates relied on the experienced veteran to straighten out their schedule, and conflicts in dates, hard railroad jumps and unequal distribution of holiday home games. What the other magnates had to ponder, Barney had it all at the ends of his fingers."

It was acknowledged that National League president Harry Pulliam wouldn't make a move without consulting Dreyfuss.

His ethics were beyond reproach. In addition to seeing that the wives got control of the '03 World Series swag, he routinely invested money for his players, promising to cover all losses himself."While he would not guarantee what return could be expected," wrote Chester Smith of the Pittsburgh Press, 'he promised there would be no loss."

He believed in trading, not selling, players. Again from Mr. Smith: "He never sold a player for the cash he could get out of the deal."

Not surprisingly, therefore, he hated what Harry Frazee was doing when he sold his treasure chest of great Red Sox players to the Yankees. Said Smith, "He was caustic in the denunciation of the trades and purchases which sent a greater part of the Boston Red Sox to the New York Yankees, a move which deliberately wrecked the former club and made the latter a perennial contender."

Your kind of guy, right?

In his day, he was everyone's kind of guy, which is why I cannot understand how he could have been so neglected for the past 70 years. When he died, he was certainly appreciated. Wrote Pittsburgh scribe Ralph Davis, "The Last of the Mohicans --- that's Barney Dreyfuss, sole active survivor of an era when baseball spikes had long, sharp blades and when men invested their money in the National Game because they loved it as a sport rather than regarded it as a business. These were men who were fan magnates who thought more of a victory by their team than they did a dividend from their club."

But neglect set in almost immediately. When the World Series celebrated its golden anniversary in 1953, just 21 years after Dreyfuss's death, he was already officially marginalized. New York writer Dan Daniel was puzzled. "There is no effigy of Barney Dreyfuss," he wrote. "There is no memorial to the vision and vital contribution to the the game of the one-time owner of the Pittsburgh Pirates."

The Veterans Committee has righted a terrible wrong. Barney Dreyfuss is finally in the Hall of Fame, and I'll drink to that.

FOR THOSE OF YOU SCORING AT HOME

Since Game 4 of the ALCS, the Red Sox, Patriots, and Celtics are a combined 38-2. The two losses both came on the road, one by one point and the other in overtime. So, yes, you'd better be thanking the Sports God for your inexplicable good fortune.

Imagine being one on the many people in Greater New York City who are diehard Giants and Knicks fans. Nice week they had, huh?

I mean, if that fiasco at the Garden on Thursday night wasn't enough to get Isiah fired, what will it take? There is already a school of thought that says Isiah is actually trying to get fired, so he can collect his money from James Dolan and slink away. I don't know if I buy that one, but I'm now wondering about the other possibility: do his players want him out? Losing by 45, and avoiding an all-time point low only because Nate Robinson hits a 40-footer at the buzzer, does not testify to team cohesion.

But that's New York's problem. We don't have a problem. Well, no big ones, anyway. After 14 games of the 82-game season, the Celtics are far exceeding the expectations of even their most irrational boosters. Doc's boys are selfless on offense and surprisingly together on defense. The key auxiliary players --- Eddie House and James Posey --- have shown us what they can do, and even better times are ahead in both cases, if the testimony of former employers can be believed. Big Baby, despite reservations about his lack of "lift," might also be helpful. And just in case you haven't noticed, Scot Pollard has done his get-in-the-way thing nicely when called upon.

There remains one big problem.

Rajon Rondo needs help.

The kid has been just fine at home, but the team is in acute need of a veteran point guard who can help the team get through the rough spots on the road, where young Mr. Rondo has not exactly been the same player he is when performing in front of the adoring Garden crowd. Mr X doesn't have to be a star. He just has to be a savvy vet who knows what's up in hostile situations.

That said, if this is the Celtics' biggest current problem, ain't life grand?

PAYING THE PRICE
Something happened this week that should have commanded the attention of every college basketball coach in America. Ralph Beard died.

Ralph Beard was 79. He was a great player at Kentucky, a star on back-to-back NCAA championship teams in 1948 and 49. He won a gold medal in the 1948 Olympics. He was, very possibly one of the ten greatest college players in the first half of the 20th century. But he made one horrible mistake that truly and literally followed him to his grave, and if you don't believe me, consider the headline we at the Globe ran on his obituary:

RALPH BEARD; BASKETBALL STAR IN COLLEGE BETTING SCANDAL; 79

Ralph Beard was implicated in the massive college betting scandal of the early 50s. He admitted to having taken $700 to shave points while at Kentucky but always insisted, that, while he did take the money, he still played honestly. But he was barred for life from the NBA, regardless.
Here is what every college coach in America should do. He should hold up the headline on Ralph Beard's and read them the first paragraph, which is essentially the same in every story. In our case, the Associated Press first graph read as follows:

"Ralph Beard, an All-American guard for Kentucky in the 1940s and a key figure in college basketball's biggest betting scandal, died yesterday. He was 79."

And then the coach can say, "Is that how you want to be remembered?"

The truth is that if a college basketball player ever succumbs to temptation and takes some dirty money to shave points, let alone dump games outright, he can an be sure of one thing. If he's caught, that will be in the first paragraph, and probably the headline, too, of his obituary. Is that what he'd like his family and friends to read?

I'm not naive enough to doubt that plenty of college players in the last 57 years have done business with gamblers without getting caught. I'm sure there have been hundreds. But if you do get caught, and many have, you live in lifetime disgrace.

It's something to think about.

THE KID STAYS IN THE PICTURE

I believe Jacoby Ellsbury is a .340/210-hit/50 stolen base guy waiting to happen, probably as early as '09. I want that to happen in a Boston Red Sox uniform.

Theo seems to agree.

Whew!

We have officially gone back to the future.

For the last 10 years or so, you could walk into The Four’s, the landmark sports bar located a Ray Allen 3-pointer from the New Garden, two hours before game time and sit yourself down, no problema. Now, two hours before game time means an hour wait for a table. Perhaps Larry, Kevin, and Robert aren’t walking through that door any time soon, but in the meantime, thank you, KG. The Buzz around North Station and its environs is back.

‘‘You could see the difference right from the first preseason game,’’ says Doc Rivers. ‘‘The atmosphere that night was better than we’ve had in three years.’’

And it all escalated from there.

‘‘Every game seems like it’s supposed to be a big game now,’’ Rivers notes. ‘‘Miami — big game. Orlando — big game. And Lakers, of course — big game. So I tell my team they’re all big games, and we just have to keep working and improving.’’

The truth is that while all games aren’t created equal, some games really are big games if people say they are, and can there be any doubt that there was more interest in last night’s clash with the Lakers than for any Boston-LA game in, say, the past 15 years? Maybe 20?

No, it’s not Feb. 15, 1987, when they were clearly the league’s two best teams and they met at The Forum on the first Sunday following the All-Star Game, each with a 37-12 record. (The Lakers prevailed, 106-103, with Magic Johnson taking over in the final two minutes.) That was a true heavyweight championship battle for the regular-season ages. I cannot suggest last night’s game was going to be that good.

But after going through a long period in which the ancient rivals seldom matched up at anything approaching a mutual high level, it was both refreshing and exhilarating to contemplate a confrontation in which each team was feeling pretty good about itself, the Celtics because of a 9-1 start and the 7-4 Lakers because there appears to be a chance they might turn out to be a little more than just Kobe & Friends.

The Lakers were slowed a bit by a 110-103 loss in Milwaukee Wednesday. They were a very interesting team the night before in Indianapolis, when they blasted the Pacers, 134-114, with seven mates accompanying the estimable Mr. Bryant in double figures. They actually have won most of their games without the need for Kobe to score 40.

This is not to suggest that preparing for the Lakers doesn’t mean beginning and ending with Kobe Bryant. The rest of the Lakers are very much a supporting cast. The difference is they do seem to have a few more lines in the nightly script than we may be used to hearing from them. But the nightly production will always revolve around Kobe, just as the vintage Bulls were all about Michael Jordan.

In case you’re wondering, yes, Rivers says it most certainly is appropriate to utter those two names in the same breath.

‘‘There’s no difference,’’ says Rivers. ‘‘There really isn’t. What you have to do is not forget about defending the other guys. You can’t let those other guys get off. But, having said that, clearly, you need to concentrate on Kobe. With guys like Kobe, Dwyane Wade, and Baron Davis, you need what we call five guys guarding the ball. Even when you’re guarding your man, you have to keep an eye on Kobe. When he gets by the first man, somebody must meet him.

‘‘You want to keep him out of the paint and, of course, you don’t want to put him on the line. But that’s become the hard part. In Michael’s prime, you could touch him, anyway. That helped. But the way the rules are now, there’s not much you can do, and he will get to the line. They [the Lakers] lead the league in free throw attempts, and, as far as I’m concerned, it’s all due to him, even the foul shots the other guys get. Finally, he’s going to make contested shots, but at least try to make sure they are contested shots.’’

Kobe is the league’s No. 1 walking, talking soap opera. Something always seems to be swirling around the outrageously gifted, 6-foot-6-inch superstar. If it’s not a battle for control of the team with Shaq, it’s a controversial rape trial or a trade crisis. Through it all, his play never wavers.

‘‘It’s like he conjures up a crisis so he can have peace on the court,’’ Rivers surmises.
Doc undoubtedly laid out his Stop Kobe plan to his team last season. Kobe had 43 and 38 in a pair of Laker wins.

But that was last season, and things do appear to be better this year. With Kevin Garnett on board, the Celtics have been transformed. The Lakers were up against the team that was No. 1 in a very meaningful defensive stat: field goal percentage (.401). And, by the way, guess who was No. 2 at .426? Yup, the Lakers.

What was once the league’s premier high-level rivalry had deteriorated badly. You can put most of the blame on the Celtics, whose last truly great regular-season claim to fame was a 29-5 start in 1990-91. Then-CEO Dave Gavitt summoned the media to announce that Larry Bird’s back was acting up, and things have never been the same around here.

Starting with the Laker victory Jan. 27, 1991, the teams had met 32 times (there were no matchups in the strike-reduced 1998-99 season), with LA winning 19. The Lakers have had a better regular-season record in 14 of those 17 seasons. Since the Celtics last won the championship in 1986, the Lakers have won five times, while advancing to the Finals on two other occasions. The Celtics have not reached the Finals since 1987 and have only advanced as far as the Eastern Conference championship once, with the ‘‘Bombs Away’’ team in 2002.

So you can’t blame the Lakers for messing with the rivalry. Since that epic regular-season game 20-plus years ago, they have only had three losing seasons. They have had, starting with the 1987-88 season, four 60-win teams, in addition to eight 50-win teams. They have won five championships and have missed the playoffs only twice. The Celtics in that same span have had 11 losing seasons. They last won 50 games in 1991-92. They have missed the playoffs nine times. And, naturally, there have been zero championships.

Hence, no Buzz.

Now, The Four’s (and everything else in the vicinity) is packed, and The Buzz is back. Time to resurrect the old ‘‘Beat LA!’’ chant, I’d say.

Bob Ryan is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at ryan@globe.com.

Nah.

Here's what I think went down.

Don Shula has known Bill Belichick since he was little Billy Belichick, Steve's son. Start with that.

Don Shula's phone rings one day, and it's Bill Belichick.

"Coach, I need a favor," Belichick says. "We're on our bye week, and they're all going home, or wherever, and everyone's going to be talking 19-0 and how great they are. Our next game is at Buffalo now, and, you know, they're playing better, and there is no way, no matter what I say or do next week, I'll be able to keep them from sticking their heads up their you-know-what when we get to Buffalo. We should win by 30, and we'll be lucky to cover.

"So what I'm asking is this: Would you mind coming out and saying something like, 'Ha! If the Patriots go 19 and Oh they should put an asterisk on it?' Something like that. OK? I need something to get their attention. I'll make a donation to your foundation, or take everybody to dinner at your restaurant when we come down next year and maybe we'll tip the waiters big-time. Think you could do that for me?"

All right, it probably didn't go down like that. But it might as well have, because it was just what Belichick needs right now.

The two best things to happen to the New England Patriots this year were 1. Randy Moss and 2. Spygate. Both are gifts that keep on giving.

Moss is self-explanatory. Spygate is fascinating, because it never goes away, and has provided Belichick with a built-in motivational tool. They are playing with an Ayers Rock boulder on the shoulder every week.

People will not let it go. Never mind that the Shula comment was silly, for the simple reason that Spygate happened on the first day of the year. There would have been no conceivable gain from that day's proceedings, anyway.

This entire season has been played on the up-and-up. No one can argue otherwise. If the Patriots do go 19-0, there will be nothing anyone can say except, "Congratulations."

Don Shula is understandably proud of his 1972 Dolphins. That's why I can't get exorcised over what he said, particularly since it can only help the Patriots prepare for the remaining 10 games, capped off by the Super Bowl on February 3.

Everything is going Coach Bill's way. Has ever a coach of a then unbeaten team, as the Pats were after beating the Cowboys, had a comparable motivational tool in preparation for a game against a winless team, which the Dolphins were at the time (and still are), as Belichick had? At the conclusion of his Cowboys postgame press conference, he referenced the game from 2006, when the Dolphins shut out his team, 21-0. He never does that. But he had a reason to do it this time.

Anyway, Coach Bill owes Coach Shula a cigar, or something. It was almost as if he were on the Patriots payroll.

Aw, we love the big lug
Schill, I mean. I almost broke out the bubbly when I heard he was coming back. For a writer or columnist, there's nobody like him.

Did I think there was any chance it would happen? Nope. I was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong WRONG! And happily so.

So what did happen?

Six weeks ago, uh-uh, no way, Jose. The Red Sox were ready to say good-bye, no matter what Schill or his blog buddies think. They were grateful for all he had done, but they were ready to move on.

The first thing that happened was that Schill once again walked the walk, winning three post-season games with his new toned-down repertoire.

You think he'd be here if he had been lit up in the playoffs? Please.

Then Schill fooled everyone. He came down from the guaranteed $13 million and actually did the reasonable thing, which was settle for an incentive-laden deal. The Red Sox knew what was out there in the market and decided that they would take him back on their terms. Schill capitulated, not that we should be feeling sorry for a guy who will pocket $10 million guaranteed next year provided he can avoid the dessert tray every now and then. He gets $2 million simply for not being fat. On behalf of just about everyone in North America, I say, "Where can we sign up?"

What a complicated guy. He has a huge heart. Few people do the legitimate charity work Curt Schilling does for both ALS and anything to do with cancer, especially skin cancer. But he does have a some major blowhard proclivities, shall we say. To me, it just makes him fun and interesting.

And he can still get people out. That's what matters in the long run, nothing else.

Welcome back, Curt. And think salads.

On deadline. I screwed up and about 70 kazillion sharp-eyed readers picked up on it.

In my post-game column on Sunday night, I said that the American League has now had four sweeps in the past nine years.

Well, of course, the answer is 5 in 10. I cited the Yankees over the Padres and Braves in '98 and '99, as well as the Red Sox over the Cardinals and now the Rockies in '04 and '07. I forgot all about the White Sox taking out the Astros in 4 just two years ago, and I should know since I was there for Games 3 and 4.

Things happen on deadline, especially when you don't have the extra time to look something up. But that was something that I was never going to look up, because, well, because when you're sure about something why look it up? And I just didn't have the White Sox in my head, for some reason.

So you can stop with the e-mails now. I'm 'fessing up, and it's time to move on.

Everyone on the outside is saying it, but do people around here really grasp it fully?

We've got a baseball team in the World Series, we may very well have a football team for the ages, we have the most talked-about NBA team of the off -(and exhibition) season and we even have a hockey team off to a 5-2 start with some exciting young players.

We also have a college football team ranked, however improperly, number 2.

So what say we send a sincere collective sympathy card to the folks in Cleveland? You know they're hurting, major big-time, today.

Before I turn my attention to the looming DH crisis, a few clean-up thoughts on the ALCS:

You know, 16 and 0.

I still think not. I'm still calling 14-2, one loss being to the Colts and the other, assuming they're 14-1, to the Giants on that Saturday night in late December. I can see a lot of bodies being rested that day.

But suppose they are 15-0? I would guess that the owner would then like to go for it. I'd like to hear that conversation.

Meanwhile, just how many things can keep going Coach Bill's way? The season starts and he's hit with the Spygate charge. The team rallies around him and starts destroying people. He gets to 6-0 and he's playing an 0-6, team, but, wait. He's actually got a motivational ploy: last year's 21-0 loss in Miami. Now he's got something else to harp on in preparation for the Redskins: the 21 points yielded by the defense on Sunday.

The only yeah-but I'd throw out on the Pats is the schedule. Dallas is the marquee victory. But looking at this team I'm not so sure it really makes much difference. The Colts appear to be the only team in their class.

Now I ask you. What does it say about the talent evaluation of the Raiders if they were insisting that Randy Moss had lost his legs?

Anyway, how 'bout dem Bruins! And I honestly do have a good feeling about Mr. Matsuzaka tonight. But if Jake Westbrook can repeat Game 3, more power to him. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.

As far as Paul Byrd is concerned, I am totally bummed. I wanted to believe in that man. You can be sure there will be no end to the bad news on the HGH front as the winter unfolds. Don't be shocked by any name you hear.