Twitter / Ben Rohrbach: Danny Ainge on WEEI right …

Okay, so this Shaq news is getting preposterous. Earlier today at the team’s shootaround, Doc Rivers wondered whether Shaq would return at all during the regular season. Now he might return in a few days?

Seriously, I’m almost at the point where I just pretend I don’t see Shaq updates, because they don’t seem to be at all worth discussing. He’ll return when he returns, and until then I’ll believe the updates like I believe, “If Bird were black, he would be just another good guy.”

According to Ben Rohrbach, Ainge also said, “With Shaq, our offense and defense has been better than it has been in four years. That tells you what he’s able to do.”

Shaq being healthy would change a lot. It really would. But I’ll believe it when I see it.

P.S. – For whatever reason, I’ve got a good feeling about tonight’s game. Then again, I also had a good feeling right before the Bobcats game, and that turned into the worst loss in the history of western civilization.

A young man buys Harlan Coben’s latest book, Live Wire.

Immediately, the book captivates him. Coben, as Coben does, spins a fascinating web of intersecting stories, a series of often unrelated events which all connect and affect each other to varying degrees. Coben’s words, so strategically placed and masterfully crafted, make the young man feel as if he’s a part of the story, as if the protagonists Myron Bolitar and Windsor Horne Lockwood III could be in his living room, as if they were his friends.

The young man keeps reading, flipping the pages faster now. The book has completely enthralled him, ruining any chance he had of being productive with his day. Sleep doesn’t seem necessary when the alternative is finishing the book. Less than 24 hours after opening the literary piece of art, and it’s 3:30 in the morning now, the young man has almost finished reading the book.

But he wishes it could go on forever. He wishes it would never end.

***

Just like in one of Coben’s stories, the characters in Boston are bound by seemingly unrelated events. Kevin McHale once played basketball with Danny Ainge, and the two former teammates reconnected years after their playing days to make a blockbuster trade. Ray Allen, Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce had each spent years losing, or else they would not have been so hellbent on winning that they were willing to sacrifice their individual glory. Doc Rivers decided to hire an assistant coach named Tom Thibodeau, who was only available because the Rockets had fired Jeff Van Gundy, who may not have been fired if Yao Ming had been healthy for more than 48 games. James Posey wanted out of Miami because the Heat had swiftly become the NBA’s worst team. The Phoenix Suns decided to sell their first-round pick in 2006, because their owners are cheap, and that first-round pick became Rajon Rondo. The Celtics somehow pried Kevin Garnett away from Minnesota without giving up their young point guard, with Minnesota taking, among others, Gerald Green instead. The events were all related, in different ways, even though it didn’t seem like it at the time, and they all led to 2008, when the NBA season ended with Kevin Garnett donning a baseball cap and shouting, “Annnyyyttthhiiinnnggg iiisssss poooossssiiiibbbbllleeeee!”

It’s hard not to occasionally wonder about all that had to go right for that team to come together. For instance, I can remember a late play against Cleveland in Game Seven of the Eastern Conference Semifinals that year. I don’t even know how clearly I remember it, but I’ll explain it from my vague recollection. There was a jump ball between a Celtic and a Cavalier, with the Celtics ahead by a couple points and time dwindling. Lebron James was being superhuman, on his way to totaling 45 points, and he was making a late charge to win his team the game. Every possession was crucial, and the jump ball seemed essential. It was tipped directly to a Cavalier, right at one of them, maybe Sasha Pavlovic, and the Cavs were going to have the ball with a chance to tie or lead the game. But Pierce jetted in at the last second, stealing the tip and ultimately sealing the game. Pierce scored 41 points that day, but I don’t remember any play more important than the jump ball.

Maybe it was fate, the Celtics winning that game. Maybe those plays are just the plays champions make. Maybe there was an element of luck involved. Regardless, Pierce’s effort while chasing down a jump ball saved Boston’s season. Without that play, Boston might have gone down in round two. Without that play, Kevin Garnett might still be considered un-clutch. The Big Three might still be ringless. Who knows? NBA teams play 82-game regular seasons, then need to win 16 playoff games to raise a banner. And sometimes all that comes down to one jump ball.

Sadly, just like one of Coben’s stories, Boston’s Big Three era will come to an end. I think about this sometimes. More than I should, probably, considering that the C’s, even through recent woes, are legitimate contenders this year. I would likely be better served living in the present, I understand. I just know it could and will all end soon, if not this year than probably next. Even if the Big Three all stay beyond next year, when Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen’s contracts expire, there will soon come a time when they aren’t the same, when their powers are significantly diminished and they won’t inspire the same amount of awe in their fans, nor the same amount of fear and respect from their opponents. There will come a time when the Boston Celtics will have to rebuild, or reload, or whatever Danny Ainge decides to do, and that time isn’t too far into the future.

Allen and KG’s contracts expire after next season, as I already pointed out, and they are both well past 30 years old. The potential lockout also looms as a factor, as it could erase all of next season. If it does, do a 37-year old Ray Allen and a 36-year old Kevin Garnett re-sign in Boston for one last run? Would they even still be relevant? The end is coming, folks, and it’s sad but it might come after this season. If the lockout strikes, and it very well could, this could be the final year of the Big Three Era as we know it.

And it sucks. It sucks not knowing the path Boston intends to take. It sucks wondering whether Ainge expects Jeff Green to become Boston’s clear-cut second option, even though I don’t think he has any chance at excelling in that role, at least not on a championship team. But mostly, it sucks to know the end’s drawing near. To know that this team; which re-instilled Celtic pride, which brought the Celtics from tank-a-palooza to NBA champions in one year, which taught us that anything is possible, which made it fun to root for the Celtics again, which significantly healed all the wounds caused by Gerald Green and Sebastian Telfair, Marty Conlon and Brett Szabo; won’t last much longer.

Sure, the Celtics will go on, but the faces will be different. Rajon Rondo will lead the way into the future, we know, but beyond that there are a growing collection of question marks. Will the Celtics re-sign Jeff Green? What about Nenad Krstic? What about Delonte West? Is Glen Davis worth the money to bring back? Can Paul Pierce produce efficiently for the remainder of his contract (which extends through 2014)? Will the Celtics draft wisely, spend appropriately, and reload quickly, or will Boston fans be in for another 22-year drought? And should I even bring this up now? It’s all so depressing.

When I see Kevin Garnett screaming each game like a man held against his will, my thoughts sometimes flutter to his mortality, which we became more acquainted with last season than we would have liked. He’s 34 years old now, and has already played more minutes than all but 13 players in NBA history. When I see Paul Pierce dunking like it’s 1999, I sometimes wonder how much longer this can last. When I see Ray Allen run around four separate screens to free himself for one split-second, then rise up to swish a three, I become nostalgic. Nostalgic for the past, which is currently the present, which will one day be gone.

Is this year the end of an era? Do the Celtics have another run (or two) left with their current core intact? Can they snap out of their current doldrums to become champions, or at least to provide us with one more thrilling run into June? Should we still be turning the pages furiously, or is this book almost done?

***

The young man has only a few pages left to read. They go by quickly, too quickly, and even though he wishes it would never end he knows he has to finish sometime. Even so, maybe he should take more time to read the book. Maybe he should savor it more than he has.

The end is destined to be bittersweet no matter when he finishes, he understands, the closing of something great and wonderful but ultimately, the young man knows, something finite. He will finish this book, and he will buy another one soon, and he will read that, and he will fall in love with a new plot and a new cast of characters. He knows that.

But damn, he thinks, looking down at the pages while preparing to finish reading. This is a damn good book.

Jermaine O’Neal will play tonight, he confirmed to reporters this morning. A day after practicing for the first time since January, O’Neal’s body felt “pretty good.” (ESPN Boston)

“You’re in there banging, the body is going to be a little sore,” O’Neal said of his first practice. “But I feel pretty good… I’m just happy to be back. We’ll take it day to day, do the maintenance… and keep [the knee] strong.”

“I think getting any guy back helps,” said Rivers. “Especially a guy with size, that always helps. And I think it helps guys mentally.”

Good news on one O’Neal, bad news on the other. Shaq might miss the rest of the regular season, Doc Rivers mentioned today. If so, Doc’s worried about integrating Shaq into the lineup on the fly. (CSNNE)

“I really hope we can get him before the playoffs,” said Rivers, who added that the injury is starting to “get close to bleeding” into the teams’ postseason plans. …

“I just don’t know because I’ve never had this situation,” Rivers said. “It’s getting to become a challenge. It wasn’t before, because I just viewed it as a regular season injury. Now it’s starting to get close to bleeding into playoffs. Now that becomes a challenge.”

Though Rivers did not seem hopeful in Shaq returning before the playoffs, Jermaine O’Neal heard differently.

“From what I understand, he will be back very, very soon,” O’Neal told ESPN Boston. “I think maybe when we get off this road trip. But we’re kinda past that stage where we need to be back. We need to be playing.”

Everybody beware of flying chairs: Nenad Krstic is pissed. (Boston Globe)

“I’m back in my rookie year,” Krstic said. “When I was a rookie I didn’t get many calls. So I feel like the same thing right now. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’m playing with great players. I don’t know. I really don’t have an explanation.

“Those couple minutes, you’re frustrated, but then you try to forget about it. It affects you, especially this situation for me when Coach is stressing for me to do everything right and just to relax and play, then you don’t get calls. It’s tough.

“You can’t control it. You can’t get frustrated, but those things I can get a technical called for arguing with the referees. It’s tough.”

When I began writing this post, I had one goal: just don’t make any “the only thing worse than a soft big man is a soft big man who complains about foul calls” jokes. Because Krstic doesn’t need that. Fans have already started to turn on him. Doc Rivers has been disappointed by his play. And now he’s got the refs conspiring against him, too? The poor guy!

So no, I won’t say he’s been playing like a seven feet tall, mustached woman, and I won’t say he should shut his mouth and just go up strong. I won’t do it. Even if that’s how I really feel.

Danny Ainge has stopped guessing when Shaq “always one week away” O’Neal may or may not return to the court. (Boston Herald)

“I don’t have any idea,” Celtics general manager Danny Ainge said after watching the workout by O’Neal, who is attempting to recover from a sore right Achilles tendon. “It could be a week or two weeks.

“I watched him work out, and he’s starting to do things on the court. We’re just still not sure of when he’s going to come back.

If Shaq misses two more weeks, I should point out, he will have missed the entire remainder of the regular season. Terrific. Which reminds me: I’m pretty sure a Celtics player could be dying, literally dying, and the Celtics would try to convince us he was okay. “It’s just a sore right Achilles tendon, guys. Nothing to see here.”

The night I met my girlfriend Casey five years ago, she was wearing a Jermaine O’Neal jersey. My college was throwing a “Jock Jams” party, meaning everybody dressed up in jerseys; I wore my Indiana St. Larry Bird jersey (which is obviously why she fell madly in love with me at first sight—God knows it wasn’t my looks), and my favorite spotting was a buddy’s Willie McGinest number 55. Who has a Willie McGinest jersey? Anyway, when the Celtics signed O’Neal, my girlfriend remembered the name.

“That’s a good thing, right? I mean, the night I wore his jersey you told me he was a star,” she said.

“I was just trying to get in your pants,” I responded. “But seriously, he used to be. He’s not a star anymore, but at least he knows it. He’ll do the dirty work, grab some rebounds, block some shots. (*Trying to forget about his putrid playoff showing against the Celtics*) He had a good year last year, too. This is a good signing. The Celtics need to replace Perk while he’s hurt, and they’ve done that. Plus, there were no other notable, affordable big men on the free agent market. Best yet, he’s not Rasheed Wallace.”

I looked back at Casey, and she had fallen asleep during my short soliloquy. The lesson, as always: when she asks about the Celtics, she doesn’t really care about the answer.

Fast forward a few months, a dozen injuries, and a lifetime of “I just dropped a glass and it shattered on the floor—it reminded me of Jermaine O’Neal” tweets, the O’Neal signing hasn’t paid any dividends (on the court, at least: the comedic value cannot be properly quantified). He’s played 17 of Boston’s 73 games. In the games he did play, O’Neal shot a measly 44.7%, compiled a 9.16 PER, scored 5.2 ppg and grabbed 3.8 rpg during an average of 18.1 minutes. Doc Rivers was okay with the low output, saying O’Neal was in Boston to rebound and block shots. But his rebounding rate was lower than Nenad Krstic’s, and while he did block shots more frequently than any other Celtic, he didn’t exactly remind anyone of Bill Russell.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, likely causing a lot of that, was O’Neal’s injury saga. He was going to get surgery, then he wasn’t, then he was again. He’d play one day, sit out the next five games, deem himself okay, then complain about swelling and pain 24 hours later. He was like the bobsled the Jamaican’s used in Cool Runnings. He was old and raggedy, his screws were coming loose, and at some point (sooner rather than later) he was destined to fall apart.

But what would have happened to the Jamaican bobsled team if someone had fixed their sled? O’Neal’s midseason surgery kept him out of action for two months, but if it repaired him so he can operate at least year’s level, the two months off will be time well spent. Then again, he’s still faced with a stiff task. O’Neal has nine regular season games to A) work himself into game shape, B) learn how to play with his new teammates, C) become reacquainted with Boston’s schemes, and D) do all that with a body made entirely of toothpicks.

The Celtics can’t reasonably expect anything from O’Neal. At the same time, they need him. It’s a thought that haunts Celtics fans: to win a championship, Boston will need either Shaq or J.O. (or preferably both) healthy. Yet neither O’Neal has stepped onto the court in months: Shaq recently turned 39 years old, got a cortisone shot in his foot last week and has been moving around in a walking boot, and Jermaine’s pulse has been flatlined all year long. Yep, these are the players Boston’s title hopes rely on. In related news, I need a beer.

We know what a healthy Shaq can offer the Celtics. When Boston played its best ball this year, Shaq was clogging the middle, catching Rondo lobs, drawing defensive attention, making things easier for all his teammates, and playing the role of enforcer. We still have no idea what a healthy Jermaine could provide, because he hasn’t been healthy all season. We don’t know whether his shot-blocking would add another wrinkle to Boston’s defense. We don’t know whether his solid midrange jumper would create additional driving room for Rondo. We don’t know how he fits in, because the Jermaine O’Neal we saw earlier this season wasn’t really Jermaine O’Neal. Or maybe it is. Maybe the Jermaine O’Neal we saw earlier this season is exactly what he has become.

Which is why, if only one O’Neal could be healthy, I’d take Shaq any day of the week and twice on Sunday. I wasn’t initially in love with the Shaq signing. I really wasn’t. I had serious questions: Can he let go of his ego? Does his presence kill Boston’s help defense? Does he have anything left in the tank? Can he stay healthy? The questions quickly disappeared, except for the last one. And that question’s changed from “Can he stay healthy?” to “Can he get healthy enough to provide anything in May and June?”

Boston’s problems go deeper than the O’Neals’ health, of course. Rondo has played one good game in three weeks, offense comes and goes, rebounding’s a serious issue, and Doc Rivers has spent the past four or five games looking like someone just repeatedly punched him in the gut. Ray Allen recently told HoopsWorld, “I’m not comfortable,” Jeff Green and Nenad Krstic still haven’t learned Celtics defense, the Bulls are almost definitely going to win the East, Miami’s threatening to steal the second seed, and I sit at home, watching all this and plotting how to murder Danny Ainge if the Celtics don’t change things around by playoff time. (Note: I’m not actually plotting Ainge’s murder. . . yet.)

Anyway, there was a reason I told you the story of my girlfriend wearing a Jermaine O’Neal jersey when we met. Thinking about that memory now makes me angry. Really, it does. Why couldn’t she have been wearing, I don’t know, a John Stockton jersey or something? Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the Jermaine O’Neal era, it’s that you don’t want to associate meeting your girlfriend with your favorite team’s most frustrating player. Seriously, it’d be great to think about meeting Casey and not immediately think, “That motherfucker has the durability of a 90-year old, nursing-home bound woman.”

I’d love to look back on that day with only happy thoughts. I really would. On that front, there’s still hope.

A little, tiny bit of hope.