During his 16-year NBA career Derek Fisher has become one of the Boston Celtics opponents I irrationally hate.
By most accounts he sounds like an upstanding citizen, a classy dude who smiles, works hard and contributes to society in many ways that have nothing to do with sinking game-winning jump shots with 0.4 seconds remaining in playoff contests. He plays basketball the way I hope my as-yet unborn son does, with unwavering confidence and unalterable poise, with a willingness to sacrifice his body and his statistics in order to help his team step closer to wins. At 38 years old and now considerably slower than during his youth, Fisher can still contribute to an NBA team because he’ll always be a leader who keeps himself in perfect shape and always seems to hit shots when they matter the most.
Still, I hate him. He flops and he whines. He acts like he gets tackled by Ray Lewis whenever an opponent’s body comes anywhere close to his personal space. He spends entire regular seasons as a liability and then always, always emerges from mediocrity to sink a dagger (or several of them) in the playoffs.
I’m not sure how I would respond to Fisher wearing Celtics green. But I might get the chance to find out. (Boston Globe)
It’s late September and Derek Fisher remains a free agent. Fisher wants to return for a 17th season, but the demand may not be there. He could be a consideration for the Celtics, given his leadership capabilities and positive influence last season during Oklahoma City’s run to the Finals.
Fisher’s kind of like Joakim Noah, the irritant you hate until the moment he joins your favorite team and then all the annoying things he does become endearing.
He wouldn’t be the worst option as a veteran presence with a long, long history of drilling important shots. But it’s weird even to discuss this.