Bobcats 92, Celtics 84

The Bobcats defeated the Celtics Wednesday night in a game that probably had Red Auerbach stubbing cigars out on himself in the grave. After watching the Celtics squander an 18-point lead, all I can say is, if they want Kevin Durant that much, they can have him—they’ve earned it. Forget the 18-point lead: Boston led by 10 with 9.5 minutes to go and the Bobcats playing about as coherently as Borat. Up 74-64, Boston committed 4 fouls, 3 turnovers, and a missed lay-up over the next 6 minutes before their next field goal. By the time the smoke had cleared and the echoes from the referees' whistles had died down, Charlotte was comfortably up by six and Doc Rivers was calling up Alberto Gonzales for tips on stonewalling the press.

For most of the night, it was the Jefferson and Pierce show. Good thing the Celtics don’t have anyone else named after a 19th century president, otherwise Charlotte probably would have been down 30. Al Jefferson purchased a Louisiana-sized level of respect from me with 22 points and 11 boards. Meanwhile, Paul Pierce scored 22 points and had 2 steals, but he sustained a cut inside his mouth off an inadvertent Gerald Wallace elbow with 4 minutes to play in the 3rd quarter and didn’t return, and thus he failed to prevent the civil war that ensued. Kendrick Perkins had 13 points and 11 boards as well. Overall, Boston had more free throws (22/27 to 15/19) and rebounds (51 to 36), but they were done in by 21 turnovers and an abysmal 2/11 on 3-pointers. They also have Brian Scalabrine on their team.

And Sebastian Telfair didn’t even play until the fourth quarter!? Good lord, has he gotten that bad? I thought it was bad enough when he lost his spot to Delonte West, but now Rajon Rondo plays over him, a guy no bigger or skilled than Bow Wow (and possibly less skilled—I watched that Celebrity All-Star Game). The moral of that story, kids, is never have a gripping, compelling basketball documentary made about you (see: Through the Fire, Hoop Dreams, and of course Eddie).

The Bobcats were led by the usual cast of characters: Raymond Felton, Gerald yadayada—WHOA, wait a second, Alan Anderson had 14 points! I love how the NBDL has become the NBA’s equivalent of growing up in the projects. Every time an NBDL vet makes an NBA roster, all we hear about is how we just don’t know how bad it is down there, and how thankful they are to have made it out alive. Anderson probably dedicated this game to his homies back in Tulsa. Welcome back, Alan! Just remember to keep it real.

And finally, the most unsettling part of the game: one day after I lambasted Cavaliers commentator Scott Williams for pronouncing Walter Herrmann’s name like “Herman,” now Matt Devlin and Stephanie Ready are doing it too—with no warning, no explanation, no anything. All year we’ve been giving it the soft “H” and stressing the second syllable, and now it’s just plain old “Herman.” What is going on here? I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. Have I gone mad? Has someone stolen my identity? Am I in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse, possibly involving Sandra Bullock as some sort of special agent? And if so, am I the hunter or the hunted?

I think I know what it might be: those disturbing “Sprite” ads that line the scorer’s bench. Have you ever noticed those things? There’s something really sinister about them, particularly if there are a series of transition possessions and the camera has to pan back and forth. You end up repeatedly getting the message “OBEY Sprite OBEY Sprite OBEY Sprite” implanted in your brain. It’s evil. Whatever happened to that wise-cracking little doll that used to trash-talk with LeBron? The one that looked like Josh Childress with black sunglasses? He just vanished…