For the last week, I’ve been hiking over to my friend Angie’s house to watch the NBA Finals between the Celtics and the Lakers. Angie’s one of the few people I know who has a TV that actually tunes into channels (most of us just use them for DVDs and video-games), and she’s nice enough to let me come over and take over her television for three hours every game night. Dawn usually comes with me, but because the games don’t start until 9 p.m., she only stays for the first half. Once she leaves, Angie usually straightens up a little and then goes to bed.

Which means that I watch the second half of every game by myself.

First, let me say that I love watching sports with Dawn and Angie. Most of the time, they don’t care about what’s happening on the screen, but every once in a while, they’ll get into a game, and they’ll ask me questions, and I’ll rediscover all this sports knowledge I picked up as a kid. If I was watching with my friends back in Boston, the guys who follow every game, know the stats and reputations of the players, and have a deep emotional commitment to what’s happening on the scoreboard, I’d feel out of place. But when I watch with Dawn and Angie, it’s not about percentage ratings, or mid-season trades, or even whether the Boston team is winning. It’s about the pleasure of the game. I love that.

But at the same time, once Dawn leaves and Angie goes to bed, I’m just a fool jumping around the living room, pumping my fist at three pointers, slamming the arm-chair at missed lay-ups, and aching for someone to talk to.

If you watched the game last night, or read about it this morning, you probably know that at the end of the first quarter the Lakers had the largest first-quarter lead in NBA Finals history, and at the end of the second half, the Lakers had extended that lead even further. And then the third quarter happened, and the Celtics scored 31 points to the Lakers’ 15. ABC went to commercial break, and I started pacing around Angie’s living room, dying to give someone a high-five. I was gonna call Dawn, but knew she’d be asleep. Then I was gonna call Adam down in Boston, but because I was at Angie’s I didn’t have anyone’s phone number on me.

I did, however, have Angie’s laptop right in front of me, and access to Fluid Imagination. So instead of blabbing to friends, I tried doing the Sports Guy thing and keep a running diary of the fourth quarter.

So join me, won’t you, for one of the most amazing fourth quarters in NBA history.

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Are you kidding me? It’s tied game? After those first three quarters? The Celtics scored six points in the first six minutes, got themselves down by 24 against one of the top-tier teams in the NBA and arguably the best basketball player on the planet, and now, 29 minutes later, they’re tied? That’s just ridiculous.

I hope Kobe and Pierce start trading baskets Bird and ‘Nique style. And look, sure enough, here comes Kobe down the court, and hey!, he remembers for the first time all night that he’s ridiculous in the lane. Kobe drives and lays it in.

And now Pierce comes down the other side. He loses the dribble (it is just me or have the Celtics been falling down all night?), kicks it out to Allen, calls for it back. Looks at the shot clock: five seconds left. He throws a little shoulder juke, takes it to the top of the key, stops, pops, swish.

And we’re still tied. 75-75 with eight minutes left.

~~~~

Three minutes later, and Pierce is hurt. Cut to commercial. Fuck.

First of all, there’s no way these sportswriting live bloggers don’t have TiVo. There’s just no way to write a decent sentence while you’ve got both your eyes and — more importantly — your mind on the basketball court. If I could pause live TV to jot down a few notes for each play…

Seriously? Pierce is hurt? They’re still in commercial and they haven’t shown the replay yet, but you could see it in the corner of your screen as Kobe ran down the court to slam the Lakers into a four point lead. Pierce just collapsed at mid court. No one around him. Just one leg got tangled under another and he went down.

We’re back. 77-81. 5:30 left, and thank god, Pierce isn’t hurt. Turns out he’s just a bit of klutz.

With the Lakers up by four, the Celtics come down the line, and Posey nails a three! It’s a one point game. Posey’s been draining a few of them tonight, but he’s also bricked a cuple too. Last stat I remember hearing, and this is from the start of the third quarter, was the Celts were 5 for 18 from beyond the arc (they’d end the game at 8 for 22).

~~~

It’s official. I like Posey’s mouth guard. I don’t like Rondo’s headband.

~~~

Damn! Awesome defense by Posey on Odom. Odom posted him up and tried to spin into a quick jump shot, but Posey anticipated it and was right there with him. You could almost see the surprise in Odom’s face when he wasn’t all alone. He bricks it. Posey comes down with the rebound, and outlets it to Pierce. Pierce drops it to House, who nails an 18-foot jumper and bam…we have the lead.

Four minutes remaining.

~~~

Fucking Ray Allen! First, he steals the ball from Pau Gasol, then when the Lakers fight for it, he collapses to the ground and covers that fucker like a linebacker on a fumble. Gasol is wrestling with him, and before the referee can call a jump ball, Posey uses his head and calls a 20-second time out. Ray All vs. Pau Gasol on a jump ball? No thank you. We’ll just take it.

So after the time out, the Celts come down the court and Pierce bricks a three-point attempt. But feisty Ray Allen is right there, and he snags the offensive board. We’re up by one point and our shooting guard is snagging offensive rebounds. Nuts. But then, once he gets the ball, he pops it back out to Pierce, and you can see all the Lakers being like, “Oh shit! Pierce is still at the three point line!,” and they all go shooting out to cover him. Pierce isn’t that dumb, so he zips the ball back to Allen, he drives the baseline, leaps under and around the hoops, and drops a backspin off the board, and there you go, fucking Ray Allen! With 3:15 left, the Celt’s lead by three.

Personally, I think Allen’s just trying to get Vujacic to stop playing defense like that hyperactive kid who no one likes to see come to playground. That kid who sucks down like three Sprites and then tries to get you and your buddies to play a three-on-three game full-court. I hate those kids. And the way Allen’s taking Vujacic tonight, I think he hates those kids too.

~~~

The Lakers brick a three-pointer, Pierce gets the rebound, and instead of exploding into transition, they take it slow down the court. They better not sit on this lead like they did in game two. After the way the Lakers were acting in the first half, I want the Celtics to win this one by double-digits. That’ll show these Laker fuckers how to win.

Garnett in the paint. Drops in the eight-footer, and the Celt’s are up by five! 2:10 remaining. Lakers take the time out.

~~~

All right. Since I can’t get a Bird/Dominique point trading thing going on between Kobe and Pierce, it looks like I’ll have to settle for a foul-trading thing instead. Kobe drives. He’s fouled. Hits his two shots. Pierce drives. He’s fouled. Except he only hits one of his shots.

Four point game. 1:41 left.

~~

Posey drains another three! We’re back up by five. 1:11 left.

Oh shit. Fisher drains a three. Now we’re only up by….wait, nope! His foot was on the line. A 23-foot shot and his foot was on the line. We’re still up by three. Gotta love the luck of the Irish.

Pierce draws the foul on Kobe. Celts take a timeout. We come back and Pierce nails them both.

Lakers come back down the court, Kobe drives, and then drops just a beautiful pass to a wide open Gasol, who puts it in for two. Three point game

~~~

Can I say it again? Fucking Ray Allen!!! He just took Vujacic to the clinic. He stood at half-court, wasting time. Then he quietly makes his way to the top of the key, Vujacic with him the whole time. All the other Celtics are spread out around the arch, and since they’re all shooters, the Lakers can’t do anything but spread themselves out with them. Allen and Vujacic are alone in the key. Allen puts the ball through his legs a few times. Brings the clock down to 21. Then he says, “Excuse me, you sugar freak, I have to go be a star,” and with hardly a shoulder juke, he drives past Vujacic and with 1 second left on the clock, lays it in.

This would be the point to note that Ray Allen has not sat down once for this entire game. Fucking Ray Allen.

15.07 seconds remaining. Celt’s lead by five.

The Lakers inbound, and then they call the time-out. Which is just dumb, because if they called it before they inbounded the ball, they could have started at half-court. Oh well.

The time-out ends, and the Lakers just start heaving up long-range two pointers. Not three pointers mind you, which is what they need, but long-range two pointers from just inside the arch. They keep coming down with the offensive boards however, so they keep getting the shots. But nothing’s going in. Nothing.

And then one brick goes soaring out of bounds. Gasol dives for it and throws it back in…directly to Eddie House. They foul him. Three seconds left. He makes the first shot. Bricks the second. Lakers come down with the rebound. But it doesn’t matter, because the game’s over.

Celtics win. Holy shit.