Now that the NBA lockout has reached a point where losing the entire season is a real possibility, Glen Davis is open to ideas regarding how he should spend his free time. He told the Boston Herald he has not ruled out playing overseas, and his other options are coaching or, um, working out in a cave.

“I have no idea,” he said. “Where do I want to work? I know the pros and cons of going overseas. I’m financially stable — I’m not hurting at all. I prepared myself well for this lockout.

“Do I want to do some coaching?” Davis said. “Do I want to sit in a cave and work out extremely hard?”

Of course, Davis probably isn’t actually going to sit in a cave and work out extremely hard — the thought of Davis working extremely hard is a little unbelievable. But you can imagine what it would have been like if he did.

Glen Davis complained that he was not educated enough about the NBA lockout developments, which begs the question: Glen, why didn’t you educate yourself?

“I don’t think I’ve been kept in the loop as far as what’s going on and how things are going on,” he said. “I want to be kept in the loop, but when I say that, they say, well, come to the meetings.

“It’s not just Paul making that decision. It’s also Derek (Fisher) and Billy Hunter. I talk to players, but my friends are guys like Paul and (Kevin Garnett) — guys who are in a different stage of their careers from me.

“I don’t talk to a lot of the guys who are more in my stage, like Carl Landry and DeJuan Blair.”

I was prepared to suggest that Davis should have sought information more actively, but Zach Lowe beat me to it. (Sports Illustrated)

The first part of that quote – about coming to meetings — should take its place in the Lockout Quote Pantheon. “They say, well, come to meetings.” And? Did you go? Did you find out where and when the regional meetings were? Did you call your union representative (Pierce) to get that information? Heck, did you read guys like Ken Berger of CBS Sports, sharp minds who published just about every nuance of these talks along the way?

And why didn’t you contact Carl Landry or DeJuan Blair or any other young player trying to cement his place in the league? They aren’t hard to find.

Some very intelligent people have wondered why the union failed to put the latest proposal to a vote. The thinking goes that the union’s membership deserved to vote on a proposal that might have been the best the union will get.

But Davis’ thoughts shed some light on why letting the membership vote on a proposal might not have been the brightest idea. Billy Hunter, Derek Fisher and a handful of others have been involved in the negotiations since day one. They have educated themselves on all the legal, system, and economic issues. They decided the proposal was unacceptable, and it’s their job to lead the union the way they see fit. Putting the proposal to a vote would have allowed uninformed players to vote on important decisions.

Maybe Hunter and Fisher are misguided, and the union should have at least voted on the latest offer before dropping the disclaimer of interest bomb. But putting power into the hands of the (largely) uninformed membership would have been dangerous.

For every NBA team, the lockout sucks. For the Boston Celtics, it sucks even more.*

*For more on “The Art of the Highly Sophisticated Lead,” I suggest calling me to set up a lesson.

Age means a lost season will affect Boston more than other teams. Age means we could be losing the end of Kevin Garnett’s career. Age means we could be losing the final season Ray Allen played at an All-Star level. Age means Paul Pierce could be a step slower when we see him next.

But according to Glen Davis, the Big Three don’t age like everyone else.

“In a way the window may be closing, but nobody knows their bodies better than those guys,” Rondo said recently. “I’m sure they’ll be ready to go.”

Davis, too, has faith.

“That’s a whole year they could miss,” he said. “That’s time gone, whether you’re running or standing still.

“But when you think about who we have on this team, you know they won’t get out of shape. Look at Ray Allen. I think he has three more years in this league, anyway. Kevin, too. I think his body can hold up. We’re really blessed on this team with our Big Three. They’re really different than a lot of other guys.”

Yes, the Big Three stay in great shape. They’re all professionals. But Ray Allen is 36 years old. Kevin Garnett is 35. Paul Pierce is 34. The lockout may not be robbing us of their last days, but it’s robbing us.

According to rumors, he somehow gained 15-20 pounds last year during the season. My first time in Boston’s locker room — true story — he ate a cheeseburger and french fries one hour before playing the Dallas Mavericks. He’s called Big Baby, emphasis on Big, but Glen Davis told the Boston Herald he’s eating better and getting in shape.

He’s now inspired enough to attempt his own cookbook.

“It’s in progress, and I’m doing it for my foundation,” he said of the Glen “Big Baby” Davis Foundation. “I’ve had this idea for a long time, but I had to come to grips with myself first.

“I had to realize that the eating habits I grew up with aren’t good for me. What scares me the most — rest in peace — is the story of Robert ‘Tractor’ Traylor.”

Traylor, the late NBA forward who died of a heart attack in May, had a beefy 6-foot-8, 290-pound build, very similar to that of Davis.

“Everything the article said, I felt they could have been talking about me,” he said. “They said he was a loving, caring guy. That’s me.

“I’m doing this not because I’m a free agent now, but because I’m trying to make a life change — just make a different life for myself. Food has been a way of entertainment for me, a comfort.”

Some foods obviously had to go. The first?

“No more bread,” he said.

I’ll believe it when I see it. Every summer, it seems, Davis vows to cut weight. He tried mixed martial arts one year. He’s done defensive shuffles up a hill. He spent an entire summer in Las Vegas. But the season inevitably comes, and Big Baby returns with a gut, just like usual.

He’s a free agent now, so things could be different. Maybe he’s serious about earning a big payday. Maybe he really was affected by Tractor Traylor’s passing. Maybe he’ll return from the lockout slimmer than ever.

But no amount of talk can change Davis’ history. Until he proves otherwise, he’s still the No. 1 pick in the “Most Likely To Eat Himself Out Of A Career During The NBA Lockout” fantasy draft.*

*Sincere apologies to Jerome James, who technically ate himself out of a career long ago.

There are times when Glen Davis makes his nickname seem quite appropriate. Wednesday, Davis again lived up to his Big Baby billing, directing a little hostility at Paul Pierce.

Pierce has been leading the players’ decertification push, but Davis seems disturbed that Pierce hasn’t been in enough contact.

“Paul has emailed me – he called once,” said Davis, sounding disturbed that Pierce has not been in more frequent contact. “He doesn’t advise me on any of this. That’s what my agent does. He’s Paul Pierce – he doesn’t have to talk to me.

“But what (Pierce) basically says is to be prepared for anything. This is something the league has to go through, and we have to wait for things to work out.

“But he hasn’t talked to me about (decertification). He just talks to me about being ready.”

On another note, Davis remains in pole position for the “most likely to eat himself out of a big payday during the NBA lockout” award, named in honor of Shawn Kemp. So at least he can be happy about that.

Disclaimer: I do not hate Glen Davis. I was thoroughly unimpressed by the way he ended last season, like anyone else with two working eyes. But I still enjoy rooting for him, despite his occasional bouts with immaturity (which sometimes lead to 4 a.m. fights with his best friend). If it still sounds like I hate Davis, I don’t. Seriously. No, really.

The year was 2007, and I sat squished alongside five friends in my buddy’s single dorm room. The seating arrangements could have been (much) better: sitting six people into a Skidmore College single is like fitting 17 in a Toyota Corolla. But I was in New York, I didn’t get Fox Sports New England, and my buddy Harry was the only person I knew who shelled out enough money for the cable package that included NBA TV. I wanted to, needed to, watch the new-look Celtics open preseason against the Toronto Raptors in Italy.

The C’s had just suffered through “The Gerald Green Year,” a youth movement of sorts that — combined with Paul Pierce’s injury-riddled campaign — left the Celtics with the NBA’s worst record, Doc Rivers with a bulls-eye on his back that columnists regularly took aim at, and fans with a “please lose as many games as possible so we can select either Greg Oden or Kevin Durant” mentality. When the NBA Draft lottery came and the Celtics were granted the fifth pick, I pondered my options. I could …

1) change allegiances and become a fan of some other team — ANY other team that wasn’t destined for failed season after failed season. But that really wasn’t an option, because, really, what kind of fan switches teams?

2) continue my existence as a miserable Celtics fan, blame Sebastian Telfair for everything bad that happened in life (“my keys got lost — screw you Telfair, you overhyped, underachieving son of a bitch!”), ask God daily why he ever mustered the cruelty to place Green, Telfair, Tony Allen and Wally Szczerbiak on the same team, and fall asleep each night muttering, “Allan Ray. Seriously?”

Or

3) talk myself into fully embracing Yi Jianlian, who Danny Ainge was reportedly enamored with at the No. 5 pick.

I chose the third choice. A seven-foot tall Chinese dude with soft touch and decent athleticism? Forget Durant and Oden! Yi’s the future of basketball! The Celtics got lucky to fall to the No. 5 pick!

FML.

The events that took place following the Draft lottery can only be described as stunning. The Celtics traded for Ray Allen on draft night, turning from laughing stock to “hmm, that team might be fun to watch” literally overnight. Rumors about the C’s acquiring Kevin Garnett shortly followed. I checked into HoopsHype 759 times per day from the computer where I worked at the local swimming pool. On the umpteenth day of The Garnett Watch, HoopsHype afforded me some ridiculously good news, which can only be judged by my reaction: in front of 75 kids, 15 mothers, three hot mothers and my boss, I loudly screamed “F*** YEAH” at the top of my lungs. I almost got fired, but who cares about a job in a time like that? The Celtics had just paired Kevin Garnett with Ray Allen and Paul Pierce. Thank you, Kevin McHale. Would you like chopsticks with your pu-pu platter?

The Celtics quickly became the hottest ticket around town, but it’s important not to forget: there were serious question marks about whether they could contend in year one of the Big Three era. Ray Allen was 32 years old and coming off double ankle surgery. Paul Pierce had just finished his own injury-prone season. Kevin Garnett was still one of the five or six best basketball players in the world, but could the three of them really carry Rajon Rondo and Kendrick Perkins on their backs? Remember, at that stage, neither Rondo or Perk had accomplished anything in their NBA lives. We knew very little about them. Rondo was young, uber-athletic and showed flashes of unadulterated brilliance, but lest we forget, he spent his rookie year backing up Telfair. And I assure you, it’s never a good sign when your team’s starting point guard was known as “Sebastian Telfair’s backup” just months ago. Perk was hulking, he frowned a lot and he had worked hard during his early years to cut a load of baby fat. But his offensive game was less complete than my latest Rubik’s cube, and it was difficult to calculate his defensive capacity. For so long, his defensive acumen had been hidden alongside young, immature teammates with nary a clue about how to play defense.

I really just used the word nary. But I digress.

For the first time, packed into the tiny dorm room, surrounded by the hot stench of my friends’ body odor, I saw the new-look Celtics in action. A few truths were immediately evident: Kevin Garnett looked odd wearing anything besides Minnesota Timberwolves colors, but he treated even preseason games like the NBA Finals. Ray Allen shot like a goddess, even when he missed, and also has enormous calves. James Posey would help everything, so much, even when he didn’t score. Eddie House had a quicker release than a virgin on his first time. But mostly, I watched and marveled at one thing: in the Celtics offense, the ball moved from side to side like a crowd’s eyes at Wimbledon. Back and forth, forth and back, the Celtics moved the ball like a Pete Carril Princeton team. You could never tell that two of the Big Three had recently been ball-stopping superstars with the basketball constantly in their hands. On this team, surrounded by so much talent, everyone wanted to keep everyone else happy. Maybe even too much so. The C’s passed up a few open shots to make the extra pass. But that was a trivial matter that more practice time would take care of. After watching Gerald Green for the previous year, this was like updating from Soulja Boy to Tupac.

At that point, watching NBA TV in that crowded, hot room, I still had no idea where the Big Three era would lead me. I didn’t know the Celtics would forge so quickly and rattle off 66 regular season wins, more than any team (1985-86, 67 wins) but one in Celtics history. I didn’t know they would struggle to beat the Hawks, barely nudge past a locked-in Lebron, find their inner playoff warrior against the Pistons and embarrass the Lakers in Game 6 to take home the franchise’s 17th title. I didn’t know “Anytthhinngggg isssss posssssiiibblllleeeee.” I didn’t know the slew of what-ifs that would follow in the coming years. What if Garnett didn’t get hurt? What if Perk never tore his ACL? What if Danny Ainge never traded for Jeff Green, or Rajon Rondo never dislocated his elbow? I didn’t know how joyful it would be to root for this Celtics team, even in the playoff losses, always so valiant and selfless and inspired, even if certain regular season games — especially the second night of back-to-backs — have been frightful to observe. I didn’t know Paul Pierce’s transformation into a mature man would finish. I didn’t know Rajon Rondo would blossom into one of the league’s most exciting, creative players, and also one of its most confounding. I didn’t know just how nice it would be to watch Ray Allen spot up on the wing in transition. I didn’t know Eddie House would become one of my favorite Celtics ever, James Posey’s hugs would be etched into my memory forever, or that Perkins — with his jaw that always seems set for war — would prove his worth and then some. I didn’t know losing to the Lakers in Game 7 would hurt so bad. I didn’t know I would come to love Tony Allen, even if I still hated him half the time. I didn’t know Stephon Marbury would be so strange, Glen Davis would make me feel the entire spectrum of human emotions, and Sam Cassell would never, ever stop shooting ill-advised shots. I didn’t know P.J. Brown would play such a crucial role in the only Celtics championship of my lifetime.

I didn’t know four years later, the NBA lockout would threaten to bring the Big Three era to a close without us seeing it through to the end. This glorious era that began when the Celtics got screwed in the NBA lottery might have just one season left. For the love of Scott Pollard, let us — let me — enjoy it.