The Celtics are interested in acquiring the Phoenix Suns’ Mickael Pietrus, according to Mickael Pietrus. (L’Equippe, via HoopsHype)

“A lot of teams are interested in me, like the Lakers or the Celtics,” said Pietrus. “This came from the best player in the world: Kobe Bryant. He told me two months ago that he would like to see me with the Lakers.”

Trading for Pietrus would fulfill the plan I have advocated since day one. The Celtics could sign-and-trade either Glen Davis or Jeff Green to Phoenix, freeing themselves from committing long-term money to an average player (assuming, you know, that Phoenix wants Davis or Green). Pietrus would then come to Boston, where he would presumably help for a season (if that season even exists). After the season his contract would expire, leaving the Celtics with all the cap space they have worked so hard to create. Perfection.

Meanwhile, all of this Pietrus talk reminds me:

Certain players bring me to my knees with a debilitating, but sometimes irrational, fear.

When Jason Maxiell was in his (admittedly short-lived) prime, I was positive he would destroy my Celtics every night. I don’t know his stats against the Celtics during that period. My only evidence is my memory, which tells me that Maxiell was an Incredible Hulk who dunked against the Celtics every single time he touched the basketball.

John Salmons entered a similar zone during the 2009 playoffs. Rationality told me Salmons would miss approximately 60% of his shots. My fears told me he would miss one out of one hundred, if my Celtics were lucky. Other players rest in that zone more permanently. Derek Fisher could be 85 years old, but if his wrinkly body releases a three-pointer during a playoff game, I will still know it’s going in.

Mickael Pietrus inspires the same fear, and in his case that fear is not irrational—at least not entirely. In 14 games against the Celtics, he has shot 42.9% from the three-point arc. In my memory, many of those trifectas came from the corner, with a defender draped all over him, the score tied, and Pietrus fading away from the basket to get barely an inch of separation. Swish. My memory could be slightly misleading, but if it is, Pietrus made it that way. He hit shots against the Celtics and he hit big shots. His threes halted Boston’s runs and kept Orlando’s runs going.

Pietrus doesn’t play quite as well against every other team, but he can shoot (he has shot 35.9% or better from three for the past five years). That he also defends reasonably well (at least by reputation) makes me think Pietrus would fit admirably in Boston. He knows his role, he has played for defensive-minded teams before, he has played along stars, and he plays well coming off the bench. If the Celtics do trade for him, I’m on board.

Boston’s starters subbed out of the game before the third quarter ended, and I envisioned plenty of rest for each of them. The Celtics had led by as many as 29 points, and Phoenix had shown no signs of life (two loud and uncharacteristic technical fouls — by Grant Hill and Steve Nash! — notwithstanding). But an 18-0 run will change things, I suppose, and Kevin Garnett and his fellow starters were forced off their keisters to apply the finishing touches of a 115-103 win.

Not every win can be perfect, even if the Celtics’ first two and a half quarters were pretty close. The C’s passed the ball splendidly, finding the open teammate every time. Rajon Rondo penetrated fearlessly, and the Suns could do nothing to stop him coming off the pick and roll. Kevin Garnett asserted his dominance over Channing Frye, and showed he did not have to ball-tap anybody to do so. Paul Pierce looked as young as ever, taking flight to put Frye on a home-made poster. Ray Allen hit a quick-trigger three in transition, as Ray Allen tends to do. Nenad Krstic continued to look like an upgrade over Kendrick Perkins, at least offensively, and hustled on the boards for the third straight game. Von Wafer threw two gorgeous passes that had me jokingly referring to him as “Cousy.” And if it seems like I’m listing everybody, I am. I could even list more. The Celtics played nearly flawless team basketball and everybody chipped in. For two and a half quarters.

Everything fell apart, of course, as Aaron Brooks began looking like an MVP candidate. But for those first 34 minutes (or so), Danny Ainge beamed at his team — beamed at the beautiful symphony he’d put together through a combination of trades, draft picks, and free agent signings — and everything was right in Celtics nation. At one point, Boston’s lead was 86-57 and they looked unbeatable. I imagined Red Auerbach somewhere up above, readying himself to smoke a cigar.

If Red (God bless his soul) did smoke a victory cigar that early, he fretted just slightly when the Suns cut the lead to single digits. But the game was never truly in doubt, and the C’s overcame Phoenix’s “Hack-a-Rondo” technique (and Brooks’ shooting onslaught) to hold on for their win.

As he had been in his first two games, Jeff Green showed the potential to help everything, but also a slight hesitancy to play his own game. There was a scoop-de-loop in transition, which showed off Green’s agility. There was a one-dribble pull-up in the corner, which showed his ability to make shots. There was a bounce pass to Troy Murphy (who was subsequently blocked), which showed off his passing vision. Green can do a lot of things on a basketball court, indeed, and he showed off an array of skills tonight that few players (and, especially, few subs) have. But he still doesn’t seem comfortable in his new role. Not entirely, at least. Though I mention so many impressive plays he made, Green contributed only six points and one rebound.

For better or worse, Avery Bradley looks far more comfortable shooting the basketball than he ever used to. That tendency hasn’t worked out perfectly for the Celtics yet, as Bradley continues to miss more than he makes (and, on this night, airball as many as he made). But he looks confident while preparing to shoot, and he seems to have lost most of (all of?) his early-season hesitancy. When the shots fall, as one sideline pull-up did, Bradley’s rather good form can fool you into thinking he’s actually a deadly shooter. Which, for whatever reason, gives me confidence that he’ll one day develop into a deadly (or at least competent) shooter. I know, not the best reasoning ever. Sue me.

But Bradley’s best contribution, and the piece of evidence I will use to prove his (admittedly very-far-from-finished) development, led to an airball. Bradley, who normally walks the ball up the floor, pushed the pace with fury. Rarely this season has Bradley looked comfortable making a basketball play, but he did not hesitate at all. His basketball instincts, which I have questioned all season, kicked into play. He drove hard at the right elbow, knowing exactly what he was about to do. He drew the defense, kicked out to Von Wafer… and Wafer airballed by approximately three feet. But the results hardly mattered. My little brother said, “That was a Rondo play,” and it was.  It was also Bradley’s first true indication of learning the point guard position. Even if he showed a half-dozen other reasons why he still has miles to go.

Troy Murphy made his Celtics debut, and he looked a lot more like “New Jersey Nets Troy Murphy” than “Indiana Pacers Troy Murphy” or “Golden St. Warriors Troy Murphy.” At least three times, Murphy was blocked directly underneath the hoop. He had no rise whatsoever, which could be due to this being his first game back after a long layoff (which includes an impressive run of DNP-CDs). Or, it could be due to a far more sinister cause — the quick and sudden downfall of the artist formerly known as Troy Murphy.

With 49.3 seconds remaining in a ten-point game, Glen Davis injured himself with an akward landing. The injuries never end, and Troy Murphy’s role may just have gotten larger.

I could write a game preview relating to Kevin Garnett’s ball-tap, or Channing Frye’s logical comments about the ball-tap this afternoon. I could write about Marcin Gortat’s out-of-nowhere 19 points and 17 rebounds in the last Celtics-Suns meeting, or I could write about Mickael Pietrus’ annoying tendency (and I have no stats to support this) to murder the Celtics. I could write about Jeff Green and Nenad Krstic, or I could write about something else I’ve spent far too much time discussing the past few days.

Or I could write about Steve Nash. Partially because he’s one of my favorite non-Celtics, and partially because he’s having one of the most severely overlooked seasons in recent memory.

The Suns, when Nash is on the court, are an obscene 17.2 points per 100 possessions better than when he’s off it. That’s partially due to the fact that Goran Dragic, Nash’s backup prior to the trade deadline, has taken a step back this season. But 17.2 points are 17.2 points, even if Grant Hill’s grandmother was Nash’s backup. For comparison’s sake, the Chicago Bulls are 4.0 points better with Derrick Rose on the floor, the Boston Celtics are 8.2 points better with Rajon Rondo on the floor, the New Orleans Hornets are 15.3 points better with Chris Paul on the floor, and the Utah Jazz were 8.6 points worse with Deron Williams on the floor (yes, you read that right). When reading these stats, please keep in mind: Mr. Nash is 37 years old. By most historical comparisons, he should have retired by now.

Instead, Nash keeps chugging along, dragging a stable of decent small forwards and — to use a Waltonism — the thinnest, softest frontcourt in the history of Western Civilization to within one game of the Western Conference’s final playoff spot (and, actually, the Suns are one game ahead of current eighth-seed Memphis in the loss column). Quick, name the Suns’ best big man. You said Channing Frye, right? Gross. Yet Nash has this Phoenix team, so flawed in so many ways, four games above .500.

The Canadian magician trails only Rajon Rondo in assists per game, and, per 36 minutes, Nash actually out-assists Rondo 12.2 to 11.5. While Rondo has earned a reputation as a poor shooter, Nash shoots 50.7% from the field, 38.2% from the arc, and 91.6% from the free throw line, while averaging 16.4 points per game — all of which puts him one slightly-extended hot streak away from joining the 50-40-90 club for the fifth time in his career.

Nobody else has ever accomplished that feat more than twice, and only four players besides Nash — Larry Bird, Reggie Miller, Dirk Nowitzki, and Mark Price — have ever done it once. Yet Nash, 37 years old, is whiskers away from doing it again. As usual, he shoots such a high percentage while having to create almost all his offense by himself — only 12.5% of all Nash’s made shots are assisted. Contrast that to Ray Allen, another old man within shouting distance of the 50-40-90 club this season, who is assisted on 73.4% of his made field goals.

The Phoenix Suns, without Nash, would reside in the NBA’s basement alongside the Cleveland Cavaliers. Hell, they’d be worse than the Cavs. When Nash sits, the Suns get outscored by an average of 13.5 points per 100 possessions. The Cavs, meanwhile, get outscored by an average of 10.9 points per 100 possessions.

Again, I point out that Nash is 37 years old. Not that his accomplishments need a qualifier. For a man of any age, Nash’s numbers and play speak for themselves. He just should have slowed down years ago.

Maybe Nash didn’t deserve to make the All-Star team. Chris Paul and Deron Williams are terrific talents, and play (or played, in Williams’ case) for good teams. But Nash has been fantastic, in ways that Nash always is fantastic. Despite playing with a misshapen roster that lacked positional foresight, Nash has done what he always does, lifting Phoenix on his oft-spasming back while making everyone around him much better.

These oddly-constructed Suns could very conceivably earn a playoff berth, and that, in a career filled that has led to two MVP trophies, would be one of Nash’s greatest accomplishments yet.

The Celtics have “dangled Nate Robinson and a first-round pick” in hopes of luring Jared Dudley to Boston, reports Adrian Wojnarowski. But, in Wojnarowski’s words, it “isn’t the most appealing package on market to get a talented perimeter player.”

What, you mean Phoenix isn’t intrigued by the combination of a 5’9 player who’s been mostly awful this season and one of the last first-round picks in a weak draft?

Boston, Chicago and several more would love to pry Jared Dudley out of Phoenix, sources say. Suns can’t dump Childress deal, need money off.

Dudley is a popular player in Phoenix, beloved by organization. Several GM’s are dubious Suns would part with him. Need an excellent offer.

Celtics have dangled Nate Robinson and 1st round pick, which isn’t the most appealing package on market to get a talented perimeter player.

To be clear on Celts, I’m told they haven’t checked on Dudley very recently. No sense Suns will move him, but he has great value to teams.

Would Dudley fit well in Boston? Let’s go to the check list.

Good shooter? Check.

Consistent player? Check.

Tough defender? Check.

Selfless team player? Check.

Natural small forward? Check.

There’s only one problem trading for Dudley would present — his contract extends until 2014-’15, with a player option for 2015-’16. Other than that, he’s almost perfect. Except for the simple fact that, well, it’s unlikely the Celtics have enough to entice the Suns to let Dudley go. The Arizona Republic’s Paul Coro even reported the Suns “went into Wednesday night thinking there was no chance they would make a deal.”

I have experience with that sort of thing. Ball taps, I mean.

No, I didn’t ever hit someone else’s private parts while playing basketball. But during one game, the same player hit me three separate times in my baby-maker. Whenever I set a screen on this player (we’ll call him “Bob” for the purposes of this post), he’d punch me in my nads. Not a little love tap like KG gave Channing Frye. A full-on, Vladimir Klichko jab to my scrotum. In Remember the Titans, Coach Boone tried to teach his players that pain was nothing more than the French word for bread. But, I promise, pain is also getting smacked in your testicles three separate times during the same basketball game.

After the last ball tap, I’d had enough. I could have gone after Bob, but he was a 6’8″ monster who would have eaten me for lunch and had some leftovers for dessert. So I did what was only natural. In a completely quiet gym, I screamed at the top of my lungs to the ref, “Ref, Bob just hit me in my fucking nuts! And it’s the third time today!” My parents, watching the game from the stands, later told me they were embarrassed. The entire gym heard me scream about my “fucking nuts.” But if I have the choice between getting hit in the balls for a fourth straight time and swallowing a small part of my pride, I’m swallowing my pride eleven times out of ten.

So I know how Channing Frye felt. He felt like he wanted to injure someone, except — let’s face it, he’s Channing Frye – that wasn’t an option. So he went down like a sack of bricks, only to hop back up as if he intended to hurt someone. Again, that wasn’t Frye’s real intention — he’s Channing Frye. But he went through the motions, as if he were actually a dangerous human being.

Frye didn’t react with such spunk because he was hurt. The ball tap didn’t have much mustard on it, and — guys, I’m sure you’re with me on this — if KG had connected more viciously, there’s no way Frye would have popped up so fast; a clean ball tap leaves you down for at least a ten count. Frye reacted that way because he felt violated, because there are some things that not even softies like Channing Frye can allow to occur without retribution. So Frye acted like a tough guy, mostly to save face and partially because being ball tapped leaves a man with an inner fury that can’t be stopped.

As for KG, I’m not sure what he was thinking. Part of him was probably still upset with Mickael Pietrus, whose elbow had intentionally struck KG in the neck area just a few plays before the ball tap heard ’round the world. Part of him was probably just being the psychotic killer that gets released whenever KG competes. Part of him probably thought, “You know what, we’re getting pushed around by the Phoenix Suns tonight. I’m quite frustrated by this game. Why don’t I lightly remind Channing Frye’s genitals that I could really ruin his night if I wanted to?”

Afterward, Doc Rivers tried to downplay KG’s ball tap. (CSNNE)

“I thought Channing Frye was the instigator,” Rivers said. “Kevin didn’t jump in Channing’s face. I thought Channing Frye jumped in Kevin’s face. I don’t know how we get a throw-out on that.”

Umm, well, Doc? KG smacked Frye’s balls.

“If that did happen, it would only be like the 20th time it probably happened in the game,” Rivers said. “You see it all the time; guys poke at your stomach. Come on. If that’s what gets a guy upset, then they’re a really tough guy.”

No, Doc. You’re not getting it. He didn’t poke at Frye’s stomach. He smacked him in the balls.

Ahh, I think I understand. Rivers must have been offered Comcast’s G-rated explanation of what happened:

“Garnett was hit with a pair of technical fouls – one for arguing with Channing Frye after he fouled him, and the second for making contact near Frye’s waist,” wrote A. Sherrod Blakely.

I guess Blakely wasn’t technically lying. Contact was most definitely made near Frye’s waist. But this wasn’t just any contact near the waist, let’s get that straight. This was a testicle tap, clear as day.

And when you get hit in the balls, you react loudly and passionately. Even if you couldn’t hurt a fly with a baseball bat.

The ball tap isn’t all fun and games, of course. KG could potentially be suspended. Countless columns and blog posts will be written about how big an asshole KG was, or how he loves picking on weaklings. And Channing Frye might never be able to have Channing Junior.

Garnett was absolutely in the wrong, I’ll agree. He threw a cheap shot, and he did it in a quite sensitive spot. But the ball tap wasn’t a bad one, not at all, and it wasn’t too big a deal. Let’s all move on, shall we?

(Taking a deep breath.)

(Woosah. Woosah. Woosah.)

That went well, huh? I mean, if you don’t count KG ball-tapping Channing Frye. Or the ensuing (and ultimately anticlimactic) screaming fit that resulted in six straight Phoenix free throw attempts. Or Doc Rivers’ ejection. Or the Celtics getting destroyed on the interior. Or scoring 35 points in the first half. Or scoring 71 total points. Or playing hero ball, accumulating 14 total assists — for reference, one more than Rajon Rondo’s average. Or Glen Davis’ strained hamstring, which occurred at some point in the first half. Or the fact that Rondo’s talents were stolen by the Monstars before this Western Conference road trip. Or seeing Vince Carter play like it was 2000. Or the best game of Marcin Gortat’s career. Or Nate Robinson’s late pull-up three-pointer, which halted the Celtics’ only (brief) run of inspired play and led to a classic Bill Walton line: “One of the worst shots in Celtics franchise history.” Or being outrebounded by the Phoenix Suns. Or being pushed around by the Phoenix Suns. THE PHOENIX SUNS, people.

Other than all that, almost everything went handsomely.

I actually had pregame jitters (of sorts) for this one. It was the first time Shaq and Perk played on the same night, and they were playing the frail and weak Phoenix Suns. Thus, I expected the C’s to assert their physical dominance, and to toss around the unworthy Suns all night long.

What resulted was actually the antithesis of my expectations. The Suns looked like they ate their spinach this afternoon, and the C’s enforcers both earned early foul trouble trying to defend the “unstoppable” Robin Lopez-Marcin Gortat pairing. Night one of the Shaq-Perkins Era became a failure, but — to be fair — it wasn’t entirely their fault. When an NBA team doesn’t bring any energy and doesn’t take care of the little things, that’s a recipe for a blowout loss.

One of my college coaches used to say every day at practice, “If we take care of the pennies, we’ll make the big bucks.” I used to hate that saying, mostly because my coach used it more than Charlie Sheen uses drugs. But tonight the Celtics didn’t take care of the pennies, and the Suns walked away with the big bucks. And I can’t believe I just used that saying in a post. I honestly used to make fun of my coach for that saying every single day.

If you’re looking for positives, there weren’t very many of them. KG can easily handle Hakim Warrick in the low post, but you probably already knew that. Von Wafer looked good, again, and continues to earn minutes the hard way. By my count, two of Nate Robinson’s eight field goal attempts were good shots. I say that as a positive, but that means (*carry the four*) six of them were bad shots, and at least three of them could be considered in Walton’s “one of the worst shots in Celtics franchise history” category. Robinson’s shot selection, already bad to begin with, somehow grows worse by the day. Okay, so I couldn’t get through an entire paragraph of positives without letting out my fury. Do you blame me?

I’ll end this recap with one more positive:

It’s over. Finally.

I need to sleep this one off.