Was it the reaction to end all reactions? No, that was this. But Tony Allen’s reaction to beating the Celtics was more or less exactly what one would expect from Allen.

He celebrated like he just won the $304 million Megamillions jackpot. Like the price of gas just went down to less than a dollar. Like he just completed his Beanie Baby collection. Like he just beat his neighbor in Call of Duty: Black Ops. Like he just found out they were coming out with Avatar 2 in 2014. Like I finally ended this paragraph, which has gotten more than a little absurd.

His hands raised into the air, screams flew out of his mouth, and he raced straight to Kevin Garnett. Garnett went in to dap Allen (for those who aren’t “hip,” I suggest Urban Dictionary’s first or fifth definition…but definitely not the third definition, which would have been a very odd response from Garnett), but Allen was having none of that. Hug it out, he had decided. And with what looked to be a mix of emotions (I’d describe it one part surprise, one part “I just lost, I’d rather not do this right now”, and two parts love), Garnett returned the hug. Only Tony Allen, I thought, could celebrate a win with the losing team.

Next on Allen’s hug list was Paul Pierce. Then Doc Rivers. Then Delonte West, who also (lucky him) got the pleasure of Allen whispering something into his ear. By that time Allen’s coach, Lionel Hollins, was gesturing for Allen to come join his own team and Tommy Heinsohn was shouting, “This wasn’t practice, Tony! They’re not happy with you!”

“It was an emotional day,” Allen said after the game. “But I’m just happy with the win.”

Really, Tony? We couldn’t tell.

“I’m a Celtic. But unfortunately, I wear a Grizzlies jersey right now,” he continued, apparently forgetting he had signed in Memphis as a free agent, under his own free will.

In the game, Allen was a mixed bag of ups and downs, as Celtics fans might have expected. Just as he’s capable of ripping Rajon Rondo’s dribble and coasting in for a breakaway dunk, Allen’s also capable of shooting a jumper late in the game and missing by approximately two hockey rinks. He can make a coach cry one minute and jump for joy the next. That’s Tony Allen, just as all the post-game energy and hugs were.

While Allen made his first return to Boston since leaving the franchise, another former Celtic played like, in Doc Rivers’ words, “the baddest man on the planet.” Leon Powe scored 13 points in just 17 minutes, or, worded a little differently, 12 fewer points than Troy Murphy has scored in eleven games since joining the Celtics. Murphy played only four minutes yesterday, scoring zero points to go along with his zero rebounds, zero assists and two turnovers. By the end of the night, Celtics fans everywhere wondered whether signing Powe would have been more beneficial than signing Murphy.

“Yeah, we looked at [Powe],” Rivers told WEEI. “We just couldn’t take the chance, honestly, with all the injuries we’ve had.”

Ah, injuries. Those buggers. At least Jermaine O’Neal will rejoin the team on Monday, with a return probably coming shortly thereafter. I can’t promise he’ll help, but I can promise one thing: When he does return, I won’t celebrate as fiercely as Tony Allen did. Hell, I’m not sure I’ll celebrate at all.

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.

Head-body, head-body, head-body. That’s what Micky Ward, or at least Mark Wahlberg playing Mickey Ward, preached would take down opposing fighters.

I’m not sure if Tony Allen used the head-body, head body technique. But it sure sounds like he beat the living bejesus out of O.J. Mayo. (TrueHoop)

Allen, regarded as one of the toughest guys in the league, tried to avoid a confrontation, but Mayo trash-talked Allen for roughly 15 minutes, criticizing his game, bragging about how he was a better basketball player than Allen, about how he was a lottery pick.

Allen was especially bothered by Mayo’s chatter because they have a friendly relationship. Zach Randolph tried to play peacemaker, telling Mayo to stop ribbing Allen, but to no avail.

Finally, Allen had enough and struck Mayo in the face. He then landed a succession of blows to Mayo’s eye, mouth, shoulder and the side of his head. Mayo was able to get off a swing, but Allen ducked to avoid it and then clocked Mayo once more for good measure.

As Apollo Creed said to the young upstart Rocky Balboa, “Ain’t gonna’ be no rematch.”

What the report failed to mention was that TA took a quick break to foul a three-point shooter and overdribble in the paint.

P.S. – Whenever Zach Randolph plays peacemaker, you know you’ve got some serious issues.

I wasn’t surprised to hear that a teammate fought Tony Allen. Hell, if I were his teammate I’d want to fight him too. The only surprise was that the fight didn’t come after a moronic turnover or a fouled three-point shooter; it came after a game of “Boo-Rah,” the same card game that ended in Gilbert Arenas’ gun play.

According to reports, Allen beat O.J. Mayo pretty easily. Which means that, since Allen entered the NBA, two nights ago marked the first time he contributed to a win. I only kid, folks. Though watching Tony Allen caused my hair to gray and my blood to boil, he actually did contribute to a fair amount of wins. A fair amount of losses, too. And a fair amount of heart attacks.

Speaking of Tony Allen, I had a conversation that related to him yesterday. I watched a high school game my friend was coaching, and one of his players was confusing. Why was he so confusing? Well, he worked harder than anybody else on the floor. That was obvious. He was one of those kids with a million-dollar motor. But he was just dumb. He shot when he should have passed, passed when he should have shot, and was never in the right spot on the floor. He tallied a lot of points and rebounds, mostly because he worked harder than everybody else. But he also single-handedly destroyed everything the team was trying to accomplish.

So my friend asked me, “What do you think about Confusing Player X?”

I responded merely, “The Tony Allen conundrum.”

“The Tony Allen conundrum?”

“Yup. You’re going to want to kill Confusing Player X thirty times per game. But does what he offer your team help more than it hurts? If so, play him. If not, sit him on the bench.”

“I have no idea whether he helps more than he hurts, though.”

“I know. Me neither. Thus, the Tony Allen conundrum.”

Speaking of Allen, please read this article’s title: “Tony Allen is becoming unlikely Memphis Grizzlies hero.”

I guess you’re a hero when you punch O.J. Mayo in the face, then step into his position and miss five layups, but somehow still come away 19 points, three steals, two blocks, a game-saving three-pointer, and half a Walker Wiggle. Yes, half a Walker wiggle.

Back to where I started, I’m not at all surprised T.A. fought a teammate. It was bound to happen sometime. And I’m not at all surprised T.A. beat the piss out of his teammate, either. If you could only use one word to describe Tony Allen (and “turnover-prone,” heart-attack-inducing,” “out-of-control,” and “entirely-erratic” weren’t allowed), it would be scrappy, or tough.

Whether you like Tony Allen or hate him, you have no choice but to admire his grit. And to acknowledge the Tony Allen conundrum.

Marquis Daniels with the left-handed scoop shot. Gorgeous. (Joe Murphy/Getty Images)

The Celtics definitely don’t like to make things easy, and they’re starting to fall in love with overtime a little more than I’d like to. But they just completed a four-game road trip of death, and they were one Rajon Rondo three-pointer away from a perfect 4-0. I find it hard to be too disappointed that the Celtics are still having difficulty closing teams out.

They’re 8-2, hold the best record in the Eastern Conference, and have already demonstrated the ability to beat anybody, anywhere. If they could develop a killer instinct, everything would be just peachy in Celtics Town. As it is, I’m almost perfectly content with the season’s start. Read more »

I can’t help it. I still have pent-up anger directed toward Tony Allen. I guess that’s what happens when a player spends the majority of six years inducing near-heart attacks.

Allen’s latest bad decision was his choice to sign in Memphis this offseason. Even though he presumably knew the Celtics offered a better chance to contend, Allen felt overshadowed in Boston. Behind Paul Pierce and Ray Allen, Tony Allen never felt he received a chance to shine. Plus, Danny Ainge didn’t show enough interest in him, didn’t show him enough love. The Grizzlies clearly wanted Allen more during free agency, according to Allen himself.

Howdaya like him now, Memphis? Before the season, even Allen’s own coach questioned his choice to relocate to Memphis. Then Allen received a DNP-CD last night, the first of his Grizzlies career. Before that, Ronald Tillery of the Memphis Commercial Appeal wrote a sentence that will likely have Celtics fans nodding their heads. “Tony Allen,” Tillery wrote, “brought in to be a defensive stopper, seems to be focused more on scoring and has played a bit out of control on both ends.”

Tony Allen, out of control? Who woulda thunk it?

Even Acie Law, Allen’s teammate, expressed disappointment in Allen. “”I could do a whole lot better,” Law said as he discussed the bench’s slow start, before adding, “Tony could give us a little more.”

Allen, for his part, says he just wants to be a mentor.

“I am trying to prepare them to be good players, the best player they can be,’’ Allen told the Boston Globe, causing me to shudder at the thought of Tony Allen, mentor. “I attack them on the offensive end (editor’s note — read: turn the ball over) and the defensive end (editor’s note — read: foul three-point shooters). But everything is to get them better.’’

To be fair, Allen WAS a lot better last year. He developed a valuable role as a defensive stopper and energy man. This offseason, I even thought it might be a good idea for the Celtics to re-sign Allen, if only because the Celtics had mostly veteran minimum contracts to offer outsiders.

But even when Allen was playing well, I held my breath when he entered the game. Even when he made nice plays, I wondered when his next blunder would give me another headache. Even when he played his best, there was always the thought that everything was going to come swiftly tumbling apart. And I haven’t yet brought up his jumper, which — even a few months later — continues to give young Bostonians nightmares.

Still, Allen doesn’t know why Ainge let him leave Boston with little resistance.

“I miss those guys, but as far as [free agency], if [Ainge] wanted me, he would have did what he had to do to get me,’’ Allen told the Globe. “Obviously, it didn’t work out. Why he didn’t reach out and make me a priority, you’d have to ask him. I don’t know.”

Or you could just ask me, Tony. I bet I know why Ainge didn’t make you a priority. On second thought, you probably shouldn’t ask me. My response would probably hurt even more than that DNP-CD.