Doc Rivers has a dry sense of humor. Earlier this season he quipped that Shaq was sitting out games “because he’s old,” and he has also joked that Chris Johnson would be a hell of a player if he could just use Glen Davis’ weight plan. So when Doc said, “And no, Baby was not supposed to shoot the three” during his press conference last night, the assembled media members laughed. Yet Doc looked forward, with a vacant look in his eyes and not a hint of a smile on his lips.

The very next question asked whether Doc minded Rajon Rondo’s runner, which had missed a few seconds prior to Davis’ “why the hell did he just did that?” three. “Not really,” Doc replied. “I mean, I don’t mind when Rondo shoots ever.” But given the circumstances, with the Celtics in transition and Paul Pierce open(-ish) trailing the play, Doc expected Rondo was going to pass the ball to Pierce, and wished he had. “I just think your best offensive player should always touch it on the last possession, and then if it comes back to a guy for a shot, I think that’s fine.”

Another question came, and Rivers still wasn’t smiling. “Did you just not hear me?” he replied curtly, after being asked if he considered calling a timeout before Rondo’s runner. “I was saying it was transition, and I saw Paul open, so I thought that’s where we were going.”

From Bobby Knight (Nenad Krstic’s inspiration), such a response would have been considered almost kind. From Phil Jackson, the condescension would have been expected. But from Rivers, who treats almost everyone he meets with a big grin, eye contact and a good-natured chuckle, the response was telling. After seeing his team execute like a D-League squad (with all apologies to the D-League) down the stretch while kicking away yet another game in their race for the top seed, Doc was fed up.

These are the games championship teams normally find ways to win, yet the Celtics could have used a Heimlich Maneuver. With three chances to take the lead or tie the game in their final three shots, the Celtics ended up with A) an off-balance runner by Rondo, who was 2-11 shooting at that point, B) a three-pointer by Davis, who has made three three-pointers in his entire career, with seven seconds left on the clock, and C) a last-second prayer by Paul Pierce, which clanged off the rim and led to Tony Allen’s attempt to celebrate with his former teammates.

When the game ended, Doc complained about the offense’s lack of urgency and ball movement, Lawrence Frank beat himself up about the defense’s performance, and Pierce noted, “There should be a better sense of urgency, I believe, around here. Especially when we should be finishing off the season on a good note and trying to get that home-court advantage in the East.”

Indeed.

(Editor’s note: My game recap will be posted late tonight, so don’t wait up unless you’re a real night owl.)

There are times in life when I wonder—wonder if I have my priorities straight, wonder if I should reorganize my attentions, wonder if I’m an absolute dick.

Hearing that Marquis Daniels may never play basketball again provided one of those moments. I’m pretty sure I haven’t mentioned Daniels once since he was traded away. Maybe once, actually, when I defended the Daniels trade because he wasn’t likely to play again this season and it opened a roster spot the Celtics could use on some other, physically able player. You know what they say, out of sight out of mind, and for Daniels that was definitely true.

I dwelled (dwell) on Kendrick Perkins, because he was essential to Boston’s cause during his time here, and because it was unclear (is unclear, really) whether the Celtics adequately replaced him in terms of their championship hopes. But trading Daniels was different, because Boston actually upgraded his position, and losing Daniels was clearly not important after the Celtics replaced him with Jeff Green. Meanwhile, Daniels wondered whether he would ever play basketball again.

Daniels was never my favorite player. I liked him enough, because he was always calm on the court, always steady. He was a far cry from Tony Allen, and to me, at least, that was Daniels’ best quality. He also cut to the hoop as well as any player the Celtics had, but really, let’s be honest—we’ll only talk about a player’s cutting if he’s not doing much else. Paul Pierce has cut to the bucket for a hoop on countless occasions, but I’ve never once heard someone praise his cutting. Why? Because Pierce scores buckets, many of them, while Daniels often made you forget he was even on the court.

Daniels was at his best against smaller players, when he could take advantage of a mismatch. At some point I became entirely convinced that Daniels, if God had made him a seven-footer, would have been the NBA’s best player. That was exaggeration speaking, but Daniels had a unique ability to put smaller defenders in a blender, finishing a variety of post moves, often from herky-jerky angles. He had the gift of abusing mismatches, but Daniels all too often disappeared on the court. And so I stopped discussing him, the moment he left Boston.

What I didn’t know was that Daniels was “having episodes” in his injured spine, that he was “going numb when he gets hit.” I didn’t know his spinal injury would require surgery, which might end his basketball career. I didn’t know, or didn’t realize, or wasn’t paying attention, that this was about far more than basketball, that Daniels’ injury seemingly threatens his lifestyle as well as, I’m sure, his happiness. Maybe I should have. I saw his head hit Gilbert Arenas, and I saw him fall lifeless to the floor. I was there, at the TD Garden, as he laid motionless on the court. I watched his teammates surround him and kneel next to him, and I could see the amount of concern on their faces. I heard 20,000 people completely silent for minutes, as a stretcher came out to take Daniels away. But the Celtics said he’d be alright in a press conference after the game, and then traded him away. So I stopped paying attention to what happened to Marquis Daniels.

Does that make me a dick? I don’t know. But these are the moments I wonder.

Some time many moons ago, I pretty much decided to delete Jermaine O’Neal from my plans for the Celtics. Maybe he would have a positive impact at some point, maybe he wouldn’t. But I certainly won’t expect anything from him, regardless. Yet he has been working out with a trainer, and could be ready to play by next week. Wait, by next week? (Boston Herald)

The most encouraging news, according to Ainge, is that O’Neal has been able to work out for approximately three weeks without swelling. In addition to working out with a trainer, the center has been playing 1-on-1 basketball. “That’s always the challenge,” said Ainge. “He’s been working out for that long without swelling, which is a big consideration.” O’Neal also lost approximately 12 pounds during his rehabilitation. Ainge said that O’Neal may join the team when it begins a road trip this weekend with back-to-back games in Indiana and Minnesota, though it’s unlikely he would play in either game. But the trip continues with games in San Antonio (March 31) and Atlanta (April 1) – possible targets for an O’Neal return. He would also get some practice time, considering that there is a two-day gap between the games in Indiana and San Antonio. “Jermaine just looks good,” said Ainge. “We thought he would be back at the end of this month, and that’s the way it looks right now.”

Oh my goodness! In addition to working out with a trainer, Jermaine O’Neal has been playing 1-on-1 basketball!

Forgive me if I don’t sound too enthused. Not only is O’Neal’s body made of egg shells and not only has he been out of commission since January 10; but he wasn’t very good even when he did play at the season’s beginning. Until I see O’Neal making a positive impact, I’m going to cautiously expect absolutely nothing from him. If he does play well, I’ll be simultaneously thrilled and shocked. And if he doesn’t? Well, at least I no longer expect anything whatsoever.

As the playoffs come closer, scoreboard watching now makes sense. At the current time, the Boston Celtics (50-19) are in second place in the Eastern Conference, 1/2 game behind the Chicago Bulls (51-19). The Celtics are also third in the NBA, behind only the Bulls and the NBA-leading San Antonio Spurs (57-13), mere percentage points ahead of the Los Angeles Lakers (51-20).

A win over the Bulls in the teams’ final meeting (Thursday, April 7) would give the Celtics a 3-1 series advantage and clinch the tiebreaker should the two teams meet in the playoffs. But the Celtics have already lost the tiebreaker against the Lakers. (OC Register)

Because the Lakers split the regular-season series with both Chicago and Boston, the next tiebreaker for NBA Finals home-court advantage is each team’s record against the opposing conference.

The Lakers are done facing Eastern Conference teams and are 21-9 against them. The Celtics are 17-10 so far against the West, which means they can’t catch the Lakers. But the Bulls are 20-7 with three likely victories still left against West teams: vs. Memphis on Friday, at Minnesota on March 30 and vs. Phoenix on April 5.

If the Lakers and Bulls both finish with 21-9 records against the opposing conference, the next tiebreaker would be … a random drawing! Crazy.

If the Lakers tie with Miami, which is 2 1/2 games behind the Lakers, the Heat would have home-court advantage in that NBA Finals matchup as a result of winning both head-to-head games with the Lakers.

For the East-West tiebreaker to be relevant (and for the Lakers really to lament that three-game pre-All-Star skid in Orlando, Charlotte and Cleveland), the Lakers would obviously have to finish the regular season tied with Chicago or Boston. Both the Bulls and Celtics have relatively balanced remaining schedules with regard to home-road and winning-losing teams. The Lakers have a home-heavy schedule (seven of 11 remaining games) but face mostly winning teams (eight of 11 remaining games).

To earn home-court advantage against the Lakers in a possible Finals rematch, the Celtics will need to beat them by at least one game. How important is that one game? Well, you remember last year, don’t you? And you see the Lakers resembling a bulldozer while surging through the Western Conference, right? And you saw the news of Tim Duncan’s injury, no? The Lakers are the clear-cut favorites to win the Western Conference, at least in “the NBA world according to me.” Which means home-court advantage against them could mean the difference between life and death–err, winning and losing an NBA championship.

Earning home-court advantage against the Bulls is obviously crucial. But let’s not forget, doing the same against the Lakers could prove just as important.

When I was in college, I once (and by once, I mean “far too often”) decided not to study for a final exam. I would walk into the classroom on the day of the test, still trying to convince myself I could do okay. “Well, I’ve gone to every class this semester, so I probably picked some things up just by being there,” I would think. “Plus, I’m a little smarter than I look, I’m a decent bullshitter, and, umm, I’m pretty sure this professor likes me.” But no matter how many times I tried to tell myself the test wouldn’t be too bad, I walked into the final accompanied by a sense of impending doom.

Or, the same feeling I got whenever Tony Allen stepped onto the court wearing a Boston Celtics uniform. Allen returns to Boston tonight as a Memphis Grizzly, which seems as good a time as ever to rehash my feelings toward him. That is, if there’s ever a good time to discuss flicking off Doc Rivers every time Allen subbed into a game, or my intense desire to throw my television set out the nearest window, or knowing—just knowing—Allen was about to make the dumbest basketball play earth has ever seen. Remember that time Allen received death threats in Chicago? I’m almost positive they weren’t from me.

In all fairness, I’m too harsh on Allen. He brought positives with him, too. He was tough as nails, the type of guy you definitely don’t want to fight on a team airplane (I’m looking at you, O.J. Mayo). He would defend the other team’s best player every time he stepped on the court, and do at least a reasonable job. At just 6’4, he possessed the quickness, strength, pitbull mentality and versatility to limit Lebron James, Kobe Bryant or Derrick Rose. He was a pest, and he never backed down. Last season, he even became somewhat reliable. It was like watching the girlfriend who always used to cheat on you settle down. No matter how long she remains good to you, you always feel she’s on the verge of making another unfathomable mistake. Okay, maybe that’s not the best example. If you get cheated on that much, just dump the bitch. But what I’m trying to say is that Allen finally settled into his role last year. By the end of the season, when I saw him crying after The Game That Must Not Be Named, I almost liked the guy. Almost.

Alright, I’ve reached (and surpassed) my “Tony Allen compliment” quota. As a Celtics fan, I lived through watching Antoine Walker’s “I only take so many three-pointers because there are no four-pointers” shot selection. I experienced Rasheed Wallace, who never seemed to care about anything except launching ill-advised shots and complaining to any referee within shouting distance. I watched Brett Szabo, Marty Conlon, Gerald Green, Sebastian Telfair, and Vin Baker embarrassing the greatest franchise in basketball history. Yet Tony Allen was the one player who brought me the most frustration. And nobody was close.

Allen didn’t just make mistakes; he made impossibly dumb plays at the worst times imaginable. If the Celtics were tied in the final possession of a game, it seemed like there was a 90% chance Allen would commit a charge. If the Celtics were ahead by two points in the final possession, it seemed like there was a 90% chance Allen would foul a three-point shooter. There wasn’t actually a 90% chance of either of those things happening, of course. But it felt like there was. If my words don’t make sense, you weren’t a Celtics fan during the Tony Allen era. Allen didn’t just walk on the verge of destruction—he constantly rode a bike across a tightrope three miles above the ground.

The Celtics failed to sign Allen this offseason, and it’s tough to tell whether they really tried to. Danny Ainge said they wanted Allen back, but he signed in Memphis for a marginal contract (three years, $10 million) that the Celtics probably could have outbid if they really wanted to.

By all accounts, Allen’s been great this year for Memphis. He’s cut down his turnovers, continued his impressive defense, and remained a difference-maker because of his energy, athleticism and toughness. The Grizzlies blog Three Shades of Blue even wrote after a recent win, “Tony Allen. This guy, right now, is the undisputed leader of the Grizzlies.” Weird, I know. But with the way Allen’s played (combined with the way he played last year), it’s easy to look back and wonder why the Celtics didn’t re-sign him. Then again, watching games is a lot more relaxing now that he’s gone.

All things considered, should we boo Allen tonight, or do we cheer him? I know my answer. As moronically dumb as Allen could be on a basketball court, we never had to worry about his effort. He bounced in and out of Doc Rivers’ rotation but never complained, and even spent most of his bench time excitedly waving a towel in support of his teammates. When he cried after The Game That Must Not Be Named, it wasn’t just because he came so close to winning an NBA title and lost. It was because he’d bought in entirely to Doc’s plan, because he loved his teammates, and because he cared desperately about the Boston Celtics. Tony Allen, though he made a vein appear in my forehead where I never knew one existed, played his ass off.

So I will cheer Allen, loudly. And then I’ll thank my lucky stars that the next time he rides his bike across a tightrope, I won’t be rooting for his team.

“For the 1st time since October 28,” tweeted A. Sherrod Blakely, “the Celtics Rajon Rondo is NOT the league’s assists leader. He’s at 11.47. Steve Nash is at 11.48.”