Well, that was humiliating. (Photo by Brian Babineau/Getty Images)

Crickets and boos.  Boos and crickets.  Those two sounds were all that could be heard in the Boston Garden tonight.

After tonight’s 111-91 loss, on the heels of a two-point loss to Milwaukee, Celtics fans need more than boos.  They need Booze.  And probably a lot of it.

For the Celtics, it was more of the same:  One step forward, two giant steps backward.  That’s the way this whole season has gone, so why should they stop now, with the regular season so close to completion?  A four-game winning streak, a nice comeback, and the Celtics almost tricked me into thinking they had a pulse.  Even last night’s loss was understandable:  The C’s went ice-cold and Bogut played like the most dominant center since Abdul-Jabaar was still Lew Alcindor.

But what the hell happened in the TD Garden tonight?  Nothing good, I can tell you that much.  If you were to look at the stats, it would look like only Rajon Rondo and Rasheed Wallace had good games.  17 points and 8 assists for Rondo, 11 points, 6 steals, and 3 blocks for Wallace.  Then you look a little deeper, and you see that Rondo made the Mike Conley-Marcus Williams combo look like John Stockton and Steve Nash, and that leaves Wallace as the only decent Celtic standing.  There was nobody else to be proud of, no other shining moments.

I would keep writing, but I’d rather just try to sleep this one off.  Maybe I’ll wake up in the morning and forget all about it, but I’ll probably be thinking about Rudy Gay and O.J. Mayo even in my sleep.

Before the nightmares come, I’ll leave you with just one last thought.

Tonight’s game reminded me of a scene from Good Will Hunting.  You know, the one where Will tells the story of his father giving him three choices: the belt, the stick, or the wrench.

Just like Will, the Celtics chose the wrench.

‘Cuz f–k winning, that’s why.

Normally, Lebron James catching someone from behind is nothing to write home about.  (Hold the “That’s what she said” comments, please.)  He does it about as often as Rasheed Wallace says something to the referees.

But this block was especially sick.  He catches up to O.J. Mayo, an athletic player, after being as far behind him as Michael Sweetney tends to be in preseason sprints.