After a remarkably novel NBA playoff run, Boston’s beloved Celtics were eliminated on Saturday night. I jumped on the basketball bandwagon in March, mostly because I like talking basketball with my brother and my nephew. I also enjoy listening to sports on the radio; I am convinced that prowlers and would-be home invaders, upon hearing Cedric Maxwell’s voice, turn their larcenous feet away from my chicken coop-sized condo. I would like to meet Max someday and thank him for keeping me safe this spring.
The Celtics were writing an amazing story; it was like a serial novel. Each game night, around midnight, they would ship their chapter of the story to the sports talk radio “editors” and the editing process would take place over the next 48 hours as the sports talkers would refine the story. Every aspect of the chapter would be analyzed until several possible conclusions would be floated out. “They’re going to win tonight and it’s done,” or “This thing is going to 7 games.”
If you live in New England, you lived it with me. We couldn’t put the story down and we were waiting for the next installment. Now, we’re tired and cranky, trying to catch up on lost sleep.
It has worn me out.
Yesterday, I dragged myself to my garden in an undisclosed location and picked a plate of French Breakfast radishes.
In some ways, these radishes have been the super stars of this garden. I planted them at about the time I jumped on the Celtics bandwagon, when the soil (like the C’s) was just starting to warm up. They were quick to spring up and they grew steadily. They encouraged me with their ever-better performance; I wasn’t sure when their story was going to end, but I was reading it.
Yesterday, they were ready to tell their tale. I picked them and I didn’t even wait for breakfast to eat them, as the French might do. I just washed them and gobbled them down when I got home. As Cedric Maxwell likes to say “somebody get me a napkin so I can wipe my mouth!”
Let’s get caught up on our sleep and our radishes this week!