The mother-trucking jungle was certainly rocking during Game 3, and Boston’s thirst for winning the Eastern Conference Finals overflowed onto Causeway street in the hours after the Celtics’ 101-91 win concluded.
The scent of marijuana hung in the air like a bad curveball. One 23- or 24-year old woman wrenched open the door to a cab so she could drop-kick the man who flagged it down before she could. Another man staggered across the street begging to use someone’s phone because his had died and his friends had disappeared. The competition for cabs looked like it might if Reggie Evans and Metta World Peace held a no-holds barred steel-cage match, and zero taxi drivers would stop for the lone person wearing a Cleveland Cavaliers’ LeBron James jersey.
“What the fuck did you expect in Boston?” somebody shouted. “You’re wearing a goddamn LeBron jersey.”
“I know,” said the LeBron fan (we’ll call him LBF). “I’m like the fucking devil out here.”
The scene continued on loop for about 20 minutes. LBF tried to hail every cab that drove by. Cab drivers would pull up to the curb, maybe slow down a little, and keep it moving. Drunk people would walk by, make an off-handed comment about LeBron choking in fourth quarters and continue with their lives.
Finally, a man wearing a Kevin Garnett jersey (we’ll call him KGF) approached LBF.
“Your boy will never get a ring,” said KGF, “even though he’s playing with eight guys every night. Do you know how many fouls LeBron’s had in his last eight playoff games before tonight? Nine. NINE! That’s a fucking joke!”
“I hear this shit every night. Still up 2-1. And wait for Sunday,” responded LBF.
“Sunday? Are you serious? Your boy can’t handle the Gahden,” KGF noted, hours after LeBron had poured in 34 points, eight rebounds and five assists, albeit in a Game 3 loss.
“What happened last year?”
“Last year? Rondo got hurt, Gahnett wasn’t himself and you guys still had Bosh. Ronny Turiaf and Joel Anthony, are you shitting me?”
“Bosh is coming back soon and your bench is too weak. All the respect in the world for Rondo and Garnett, but Dooling and Daniels ain’t doing that shit every night, believe that.”
(Editor’s note: Oddly enough, LBF used Daniels’ catchphrase to describe how Daniels won’t repeat his Game 3 contributions. #BeleeDat)
“They don’t need to. Pierce has a 30-plus game coming soon and Allen’s starting to come around. You know you don’t want Jesus Shuttlesworth hooping out there.”
“Jesus Shuttlesworth? Come on, man. What is Ray Allen, like 55 years old? Why hasn’t he retired already?”
“If you want to talk about people being 55 years old, let’s talk about LeBron’s hairline. And are you from Cleveland?”
“From Cleveland? If I was from Cleveland I would have used this jersey as a urinal, or it would be ashes, or in a garbage dumpster somewhere.”
“True. But my man Greg Stiemsma need to start getting some calls! LeBron gets all the fucking whistles. Why can’t Stiemsma can’t any love?”
“Man, I can’t believe we’re talking about Stiemsma right now. It’s 1 a.m. I just need a fucking cab.”
As if on cue, a taxi pulled up. He drove right by LBF and stopped next to KGF.
“Will you take me to Cambridge?” KGF asked.
LBF cried out, “I’m going to Cambridge too!”
“Don’t think you’re getting in my cab, though. I actually have a lot of respect for LeBron and the Heat, but there’s no way I’m sharing this cab with you.”
And with that the taxi drove off.
LBF was stuck on the side of the street, trying to hail a cab that seemed like it would never come.