I hate the Boston Celtics.
I grew up in Southern California. Showtime Lakers and I were born in the same summer; Pat Riley had just won his first championship as coach, and James Worthy had just been drafted.
The Lakers logo is etched onto each chamber of my heart, and purple and gold blood flows through my body.
I have an innate and passionate hatred for the Celtics. I hate Larry Bird's molester moustache. I hate Kevin Garnett's front running yapping. I hate Kendrick Perkin's ogre like stare. I hate the ridiculous Boston accent. I hate the word wicked.
And most of all, I hate the Celtics' 2008 championship. Their Game Four comeback against the Lakers was the worst moment of my life. I ran to my bed and buried my face in the mattress. I couldn't move. I couldn't be consoled. I was beyond sick. I was comatose.
The Celtics would go on to wipe away the Lakers in humiliating fashion.
Without delving into hyperbole, look at my archive of articles on Bleacher Report. There's an 18-month gap from that crushing NBA Finals until my next article. I was too emotionally wounded to enjoy the NBA again, let alone write ab ...
Read Full Article at Bleacher Report - NBA
Article written by Chad Ridgeway
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