dennis johnson r-i-p

you might not know this about me: i was a celtics fan once upon a lolly. in their heyday, when i was in jr high and high school and they kept winning. danny ainge always seemed like a pretty boy, kevin mchale like frankenstein's cousin, robert parrish, like a gangly meany (more on that later), larry bird—nuff said, and dj, who somehow in my mind did not have pride of place.

in those days, i was also smitten with the likes of freddy lynn, dewey, yaz, jim rice and the gang over at fenway.

see, i grew up in boston-ish.

today i was looking at one of my fav sections of the paper, the obits, and there was dj's obit with a couple of pix. that's dennis johnson to you, punk. it made me so sad. he was young, in his 50s, when he expired. i remember watching those championship games with my pops and high fiving when the celtics scored and my pops wiping his palm off with a hanky cause that's where he tends to perspirate. also, on his forehead.

later, i ran into robert parrish and dj near the mall where i'd go to the movies sometimes and there was a friendly's parlor which had some kind of crazy rich chocolate flavor that i adored; the two celts were getting out of a black mercedes and chief had flipflops on his long feet, and i said, 'hey, you gonna win the championship this year?' or something of that ilk and he gave me a cold, heartless stare that said, essentially, 'get out of my way you silly suburban girl' and that was that.

they did not win that year. shortly thereafter i stopped caring about basketball altogether. but still, i say kaddish for dj.