I know that loss hurts, but at least it gave us this:

More to come later.

Paul Pierce will be a little lonelier at the All-Star Game than he has been in recent seasons. The Truth is Boston’s only representative on the Eastern Conference roster this season, with the rosters being selected today.

That means, yes, Rajon Rondo was left off the team. And yes, Kevin Garnett will miss the All-Star Game for the first time since 1998-’99. And yes, Ray Allen’s streak of seven straight All-Star appearances is over, barring any injury-related addition to the roster in the coming weeks. And yes, Sasha Pavlovic will watch from the confines of his couch, wearing a Snuggie and playing Chutes and Ladders with his girlfriend, just as he has done during each of his nine seasons in the league.

The Celtics have just one All-Star (and Rondo surely would have been their second, if he had not missed eight games due to injury — as Paul Flannery notes, a third of the season to date). I would cry about the disrespect, but there’s nothing disrespectful here. A case surely could have been made for the selection of Rondo, Allen and/or Garnett, but it’s hardly a travesty that any was left off — even Rondo, whose string of missed games apparently outweighed his stellar nightly contributions.

By now, most people who care about sports surely have seen video highlights of Austin Rivers’ game-winning three-pointer against North Carolina, lofted at the buzzer over the arms of Tyler Zeller, prompting an entire arena of Carolina blue to fall silent.

In the aftermath of the victory, Duke teammates piled on top of Rivers. His father, Doc, who must have flown to Chapel Hill earlier Wednesday and flown back to Boston almost directly after his son’s game-winner, shouted raw and unfettered screams of familial pride, and slapped the hands of everyone within arm’s length.

It was another chapter in the greatest rivalry in college basketball. And what would a chapter in any book be without a random reference to Rasheed Wallace. (Grantland)

Outside the Duke locker room, you could hear wild cheers coming from inside. Chris Collins, an assistant, yelled out, “That’s what he does!” Coach K stood by the door talking with Jeff Capel, his former player and assistant. “That was one for the ages,” he said, in disbelief. Later, he told Capel — and I’m just reporting the conversation, so don’t shoot the messenger — that the Carolina players wanted to run into the locker room without shaking hands (who can blame them, really?) and that Rasheed Wallace, of all people, was instrumental in forcing them to come back.

This is the side of Wallace we rarely see, the side of Wallace that isn’t drinking Bud Lights inside the Celtics locker room, launching ill-advised three-pointers, refusing to slide his feet within a team defensive concept, or falling victim to referee-induced rage.

During my first credentialed trip to the TD Garden, I stepped into the team’s personal lair one hour and thirty minutes prior to tip-off, as soon as the locker room was opened to the media. A few minutes later, Glen Davis walked inside screaming about being a beast and eating — this is a true story, seriously — a cheeseburger and french fries. As I recall, Ray Allen was holding court with the media at his locker, but Wallace came bounding into the room pretending to be a spartan from the movie “300.” This all sounds outlandish and fictionalized, but it’s true, I swear. After a few minutes of mumbling what sounded like pirate speak, Wallace’s brief display of hilariousness died down and the media was pushed out of the locker room.

The Celtics played the Dallas Mavericks that night. Dirk Nowitzki scored 37 points, many of them with Rasheed Wallace defending. (Kevin Garnett sat out due to injury.) Afterward, back in the locker room where he had pretended to be a spartan just hours earlier, Wallace earned a $35,000 fine.

“There were a couple instances where Paul went to the basket and got fouled or whatever, and no calls,” he said. “But we come down, blow on them too hard, and it’s a call.”

“[The refs] don’t like tough defense on [Nowitzki], so of course, I get a whole lot of bull—- calls, but that’s how the story goes,” he added.

The lesson, as always: From missed defensive rotations, to bad shot selection, to spurts of pretending to be a spartan, to stories of his urging North Carolina players to display good sportsmanship, Rasheed Wallace is one complex dude.

Stubbornness. Pride. Competitiveness. Maybe even a little stupidity. In the past two days, Paul Pierce and Kobe Bryant — two aging stars on teams that would be seventh seeds if the playoffs started today — have both conceded that championships remain the driving force.

Championships. Is it possible for the Big Three to win a second? For Kobe to win a sixth? For the NBA gods to continue putting a title just out of Lebron James’ reach? For Kevin Durant and Derrick Rose’s drive at their first ring to be stalled because the older dogs still have a little bite?

It would seem a lot of events would have to unfold perfectly for either the Celtics or Lakers to win a championship. Yet the fact that Kobe and Pierce can discuss with sincerity the possibility, no matter how slim that possibility seems to the unbiased observer, reveals the plainest truth within this conversation: A level of defiance and indefatigable confidence exists in Boston and Los Angeles, making both teams dangerous come playoff time, even against younger, more athletic, even better opponents.

“I’m obsessed about it,” Kobe Bryant said regarding his quest for a sixth title. “I’ve got to get it. It’s just one of those things. It’s what I play for. I can think of nothing else. As a kid growing up, that’s all I saw. I watched Bird. I watched Magic (Johnson). I watched them win multiple titles. I watched (Michael) Jordan win multiple titles. . . . After you win one, you become addicted to it. You win two and win three, and you just get greedy. So I want another one.”

Mickael Pietrus claims he considered signing nowhere but Boston once he became a free agent prior to the regular season. He wanted to play with Kevin Garnett. He wanted to play for Doc Rivers. He wanted to exist in an environment that counted wins as the only viable statistic. Even as the Celtics limped to a sub-.500 start, Pietrus’s smile remained. Perhaps that’s because smiles permanently paint his face, but there’s also an inkling that Pietrus’s gleeful disposition stayed intact during the tough stretch because losses could not deter the Celtics’ mindset. The environment he came for still surrounded him. The atmosphere was still different than Orlando or Golden St. or Phoenix. Banners were still the only goal, and not even a string of ugly losses could cause griping inside the Celtics locker room.

As the defeats piled up early this season, the Celtics were almost defiant. We will emerge from this slump, they seemed to chant in unison. We know better. We are better. We understand the formula. We’ll be okay. There were no tears shed in the locker room. No punches thrown. No team meetings where souls were bared or heads were skinned. Old age certainly contributed to the Celtics’ poor start. But pride got in the way of letting a losing skid become a virus.

The Celtics and Lakers aren’t favorites anymore. They won’t steamroll through the regular season or overwhelm opponents with gaseous fireballs of talent in 2012. There are more complete teams this season, more talented teams, younger teams, better teams. But both the Celtics and Lakers — cross-country rivals who respect each other like hell even if they won’t always say so — still believe they can win a title. Call them ignorant. Call them unable to read their own obituaries. Call them incapable of staring reality in the eye. Or just call them former champions who still clutch onto every morsel of their old attitudes, even as their skills continue to stroll into the ever-approaching sunset.

Kevin Garnett, when he wants to be, is one of the best interviews in the NBA, maybe the very best. He’s funny, he’s entertaining, he’s colorful and he’s powerfully emotional.

After Paul Pierce passed Larry Bird for second place on the Celtics all-time scoring list, Garnett spoke at length yesterday about his friendship with The Truth.

A transcript follows.

On his first meeting with Paul Pierce:

“The first time we were on the court, it was beautiful,” he said. “First time I stepped into Inglewood High, we stepped on the floor, we dapped, said what’s up, had a small conversation, we practiced, and it was instant chemistry. Later on I met his mom and his family, and we’ve been like brothers ever since. Obviously he went to Kansas, I went my way. It’s crazy, we would bump into each other in the summer time. I moved out to LA, a lot of UCLA workouts in the summer. And then finally to this right here [being teammates on the Celtics], it just comes full circle. It’s a little more special for me just because of our backgrounds, our childhoods and what we come from.”

On what Pierce was like in high school:

“Paul was more like a four. In high school you play four or five, you’re the biggest kid on your team or one of them. Paul’s from a rough neighborhood, from brothers and a loving mother and family, so he always had a sense of character and depth to him. When it came to basketball, he was always in the backyard working. I remember he was always talking about David Robinson. I couldn’t understand that one,” he joked, “but it wasn’t for me to understand. But you saw the drive. You saw what motivated him. You saw what pushed him. Being in LA, other players were considered better than him and that drove him from day one. We just have a lot of similarities, a lot of things pushing us, a lot of things driving us as young guys. We just so happen to be best friends and have a lot in common.”

On whether, when he was in high school, Garnett would have believed somebody who told him all that he and Pierce would accomplish, and that they’d come together in Boston:

“I would totally believe them. I would totally believe them. I’d be like, ‘You’re crazy as hell, but I believe you.’ This is just good, that we can sit back and joke about holes in our shoes and playing with itty-bitty shorts and all this other stuff. And then, to be full circle right here, it’s great. So congratulations, Truth.”

In the eye of Boston sports, surpassing Larry Bird is overtaking the golden deity of hard work, floor burns and triple doubles. It’s overcoming the patron saint of jump shots, floor vision and well-deserved cockiness. It’s taking a scalpel and engraving your name directly above the king’s.

Bird will always wear a crown in Boston, but it’s time to start fitting Paul Pierce for a matching diadem.

If you want an argument for why Danny Ainge should not consider trading Pierce, regardless of what happens with the Celtics during the remainder of Pierce’s contract, watch the highlight of The Truth drilling a three from the right wing with 10:23 remaining in last night’s the third quarter. Watch his hands rise to the rafters. Watch Jermaine O’Neal draw the best-timed technical foul of his career. Watch the crowd collectively rise to its feet and throw 14 seasons worth of cheers Pierce’s way, remaining on its feet well after play resumed. Watch all those things and measure loyalty against rebuilding from scratch, and think about what it would feel like to see Pierce wearing another jersey, suiting up for the opponent, and ask yourself if there are certain prizes more important than winning.

Before Pierce overtook Bird for second place on the Boston Celtics scoring list with a three-pointer over the outstretched (and lumpy) arm of Boris Diaw, Tommy Heinsohn tried to explain how players like Pierce make commentating fun. I’m paraphrasing here, but Heinsohn said something to the effect of, “I get to watch a lot of players grow, a lot of people grow up. When Pierce came to Boston, he didn’t know up from down. He played on bad teams, did some dumb things, but he kept growing. He fought through the bad teams, fought through his own ignorant comments, fought through being stabbed in the back, and found the time to master his craft. Want to know the type of guy Pierce is? When they asked him to be the captain, he bought books on leadership and studied how to better himself.”

Pierce is often methodical in his motion, so we underrate his athletic ability. He entered the NBA with a complete arsenal of skills, so we overlook the work he put in to add his present layer of polish. He instantly fit so seamlessly with the Big Three that we hardly noticed the transformation to his game, the changes he made to fit more easily into the machine. It has become easy to overlook Pierce’s greatness — he has never won a scoring title, never earned an MVP trophy, never been named to the First-Team All-NBA — but 14 years later, with a long bomb from the right wing, leaning to the side to wish it in just like he’s done so many times throughout the years, Pierce trails only John Havlicek on the scoring list of the world’s winningest basketball franchise.

Chris Herren, who you might know from the ESPN documentary “Unguarded”, or from his book “Basketball Junkie,” or perhaps you’ve heard of his drug troubles, or maybe you remember him from his days as a temporary starting point guard for the Boston Celtics, remembers more regrets than most. One thing he regrets is not learning from his former teammate Paul Pierce.

“This is your job. Treat it like your job. I look back in shame that I used to pull up to the arena and spend an hour and 45 minutes (there),” Herren said during a December speaking engagement in front of the NBA D-League’s Springfield Armor and Maine Red Claws. “You’re getting paid to work. There ain’t a job in this world that’s two hours long. There’s nowhere in this world you can go get paid for two hours. Paul Pierce showed me what it was to work. He turned those days into eight-hour work days. He worked like the guy picking up garbage. Not two hours.”

Herren said he would arrive at practice and see Pierce in soaking wet clothes, already having put himself through a pre-practice workout. And when Herren left the gym after practice, Pierce would be asking the equipment manager for another pair of mesh shorts, so that he could do more shooting drills by himself. He worked like the guy picking up garbage, when in reality he was already an NBA All-Star during just his third season as a pro, at age 24. This is how you average 16.5 points as a rookie and never below 18.3 in the 13 seasons since. This is how you become great. This is how you scale the Celtics history books. This is how you pass Larry Bird.

Havlicek remains 4,598 points ahead of Pierce, who now has 21,797. Though hardly a given, it is possible to imagine a day a few years from now when Pierce passes Havlicek to become the greatest scorer in franchise history. Then, like tonight, the crowd would be filled with memories both good and bad — Pierce asking for a trade; scoring 46 points after halftime to defeat the New Jersey Nets; wrapping a towel on his head during a postgame press conference; hitting a jumper over Ron Artest after getting his pants dropped to his ankles; standing at the free throw line during Game 7 against Cleveland and sealing a trip to the Eastern Conference Finals; leading the Celtics to a 17th NBA championship — and the overwhelming knowledge that Pierce has grown from a boy to a man in the City of Champions.

To set records and win championships in Boston is expected. To pass Larry Bird is to float above the clouds and proclaim yourself an equal to the shining sun. To mature and to grow and to become someone an entire city can be proud of — there are more than 21,797 reasons why the TD Garden crowd briefly refused to sit down.

Many years from now, when I have no teeth and drink Ensure by the gallon, I will speak glowingly of the night Paul Pierce passed Larry Bird on the Boston Celtics scoring lost. By then I will likely forget his points came against the Charlotte Bobcats. I will forget Sasha Pavlovic ever existed. I will even forget the names of my closest acquaintances.

But I hope to never forget the love that flowed from fans’ mouths and made its way down to the parquet floor to meet a smiling, mature Paul Pierce, the second most prolific scorer (and counting) in the history of basketball’s most successful franchise.

Plenty more coming later.

Is sweat pouring from Greg Stiemsma’s skin as tonight approaches? Stiemsma, the lone Boston Celtic on a non-guaranteed contract this season, will find out by 6 p.m. tonight whether the team intends to guarantee his contract for the rest of the season.

According to the Boston Globe, Stiemsma’s contract is expected to be guaranteed before the deadline. A month or two ago, when Stiemsma was garnering comparisons to Bill Russell and blocking any shot released within a two-mile radius of his lengthy arms, the question hardly even warranted asking. But Stiemsma has played just 11 minutes this month and hasn’t played more than 10 minutes in a single contest since Jan. 18. Since then, Stiemsma’s contributions have noticeably regressed, JaJuan Johnson has started to make an impact and Chris Wilcox has stolen almost all of Stiemsma’s minutes.

Does that mean the Celtics will (or should) cut Stiemsma? No. They would be right to keep him around, if only because they don’t have very much center depth. Stiemsma provides some insurance in case Jermaine O’Neal injures himself while eating a meatball grinder, tying his shoes or reaching for his cane after a game.

Still, the big fella’s role has dwindled, and the Celtics could want to keep a roster spot open for when players are bought out later in the season — lawdy knows Danny Ainge loves the likes of Stephon Marbury, Carlos Arroyo, Mikki Moore and Troy Murphy.