The Celtics had just won their first title in 22 years, a title I never thought I'd live to see, and Michelle Tafoya, KG's old buddy from Minnesota, was closing in on Garnett. Pausing while Garnett paid tribute to the Celtic Leprechaun, Tafoya got her man.
Truth be told, I didn't lose it after they won. I didn't lose it when the KG interview began. But then he looked straight into the camera and started talking directly to his mother, yelling "Top of the World! I'm on Top of the World!!"
Garnett had turned a Celtic championship, broadcast to millions of people around the world, into a personal moment with his mother.
It was then the eyes welled up and the tears started flowing.
Being a Celtics fan is personal, very personal, and KG had made the moment about as personal as it gets.
Which brings me to 11/4.
Despite the joy I felt that night, there were no tears and no real threat of tears.
That changed over the course of the next three days.
First I saw an interview with a 106-year-old African American woman who said she had been "willing herself to live one more day" in hopes of seeing the country elect the first black president.
Next I saw people from around the world celebrating Obama's victory. There was a story of the hour-long walk an America woman took to work in Europe on 11/5. Ordinarily, the walk took four minutes. The reason it took an hour was that everyone in the neighborhood descended upon her, knowing she was American, to celebrate the victory with her.
Still, I was hanging tough.
Then NPR interviewed an eight-year-old African American girl after the election.
"This is the United States of America, and you can be anything you want. I know this because the President of the United States is black."
Whoa.
Like the KG moment, simple but undeniably powerful and undeniably personal.
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