Kevin Garnett injured his knee on February 19, 2009, returned about a month later, played four games, and then we were told he needed some additional rest. One game of additional rest became two games, and one week became two weeks. On April 16, the Celtics announced Garnett would be out for the playoffs.
All along we were told that KG had two knee injuries: 1) strained popliteus tendon in right knee; 2) bone spurs in right knee. The second injury made the first one more painful, according to prevailing wisdom. KG then had surgery on May 26, after which we were told "the inflamed muscle indeed was caused by the bone spur," meaning it was really one injury, the bone spurs. Once the bone spurs were removed, wa lah, the knee is all better. A couple weeks later, Ainge added "I don't think (his knee) was real serious. I think it was painful, but I don't think it was real serious." It's all right here if you want to read it. Finally, we had the hokus-pokus about KG being 100% for camp and KG announcing he was "ahead of schedule."
Originally, the FOG AT WALTHAM was explained as tactical legerdemain. The Celtics were being Belichickian or whatever. But let's cut to the chase. The idea that Kevin Garnett hasn't run yet or that no one has seen him run is ridiculous. Doc, Danny, and Celtics' doctors have seen him run and they don't like what they saw. In fact, what they saw was so inconclusive that they have no timetable for his return.
This sounds exactly like last spring, which makes me wonder whether, in fact, the bone spurs were a side issue and the "posterior knee strain" was the real issue. The problem with that scenario is that according to reports, a "posterior knee strain" is only supposed to take a maximum of six weeks for recovery.
So where does that leave us?
Bill Walton and the Bill Walton Watch has returned to Boston, a place where players suffer injuries that befuddle the best doctors in the world.
Either that, or the Celtics' Curse I talked about before 2008 has returned. I might have to rename it "The Curse of Jersey #5."
Showing posts with label Curse of Jersey #5. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Curse of Jersey #5. Show all posts
9.17.2009
9.23.2008
The Not So Green Mile: Did Walton Curse the Celtics?
Bill Walton played 80 regular season games for the Boston Celtics during the 1985-86 season. Prior to that season, he had never played more than 67, and he had only reached that milestone once. In fact, on more than one occasion Walton went the entire season without ever suiting up.
All told, injuries cost Walton more than 5 and 1/2 seasons of professional basketball. Yet except for a sprained wrist and a broken tooth, Walton was the picture of health for more than 8 months during the Celtics last championship run, and, if you count playoff and exhibition games, the big red head actually eclipsed the century mark in games played.
After the title was in hand, Walton's body returned to it's old, brittle self that had been its hallmark since his days at UCLA. Prior to the 1986-87 season, Walton got injured riding a stationary bike, underwent surgery, and then spent the season rehabbing. He returned to play a smidgen down the stretch, but was totally ineffective.
And, then, poof, just like that his career was over.
Smell something fishy about his health and good fortune in 1985-86?
A cabal of my friends and I did, too.
Based on our suspicions, we have postulated a theory.
We know that during the summer of 1985, Bill Walton, a native Californian, paid Jerry West a visit in anticipation of becoming a free agent. After seeing his X-rays, West told Walton "no thanks."
Despondent, Walton turned to his hippie friends for solace. Together they held a séance in his garage, with incense burning and members of the Greatful Dead playing music to summon up assistance from the netherworld.
It wasn't long before Walton was confronted by a dark and shadowy figure, a figure resembling a cross between Curtis Rowe, Vin Baker, and Rick Pitino.
"Bill, you are one of the greatest basketball players who has ever roamed the hardwood. You have been blessed. However, no man is given unlimited blessings, and your well has now run dry. "
"No, no. I have some great basketball left in me. I will do anything to play just one more season, to win one more championship."
"Anything?"
"As long as the season ends in a championship, yes, anything. "
"In that case, Bill, here is the proposition: You will go to work for the Boston Celtics. You will have a season for the ages, and so will the Celtics. You will win individual and team awards, and become enmeshed as a beloved member of the Celtics family. At the end of the season, the Celtics will walk off the court as champions for the 16th time."
"Perfect."
"After that, your body will return to it’s steady decline into oblivion, and the Celtics will begin a spiraling descent in the same direction."
"Understood. Any other conditions?"
"Yes, you will begin to do my bidding."
"How so?"
"I need a platform. I have things I need to say. You people on earth sugar-coat everything. You're going to change all that. So, for starters, you'll go to work for the television networks as a broadcaster, and repeat every obnoxious thing that comes into my mind. After that, I'm not sure. We'll have to play it by ear. We've got a couple of different directions we can go."
"Deal."
++
UPDATE:
Curse Over.
All told, injuries cost Walton more than 5 and 1/2 seasons of professional basketball. Yet except for a sprained wrist and a broken tooth, Walton was the picture of health for more than 8 months during the Celtics last championship run, and, if you count playoff and exhibition games, the big red head actually eclipsed the century mark in games played.
After the title was in hand, Walton's body returned to it's old, brittle self that had been its hallmark since his days at UCLA. Prior to the 1986-87 season, Walton got injured riding a stationary bike, underwent surgery, and then spent the season rehabbing. He returned to play a smidgen down the stretch, but was totally ineffective.
And, then, poof, just like that his career was over.
Smell something fishy about his health and good fortune in 1985-86?
A cabal of my friends and I did, too.
Based on our suspicions, we have postulated a theory.
We know that during the summer of 1985, Bill Walton, a native Californian, paid Jerry West a visit in anticipation of becoming a free agent. After seeing his X-rays, West told Walton "no thanks."
Despondent, Walton turned to his hippie friends for solace. Together they held a séance in his garage, with incense burning and members of the Greatful Dead playing music to summon up assistance from the netherworld.
It wasn't long before Walton was confronted by a dark and shadowy figure, a figure resembling a cross between Curtis Rowe, Vin Baker, and Rick Pitino.
"Bill, you are one of the greatest basketball players who has ever roamed the hardwood. You have been blessed. However, no man is given unlimited blessings, and your well has now run dry. "
"No, no. I have some great basketball left in me. I will do anything to play just one more season, to win one more championship."
"Anything?"
"As long as the season ends in a championship, yes, anything. "
"In that case, Bill, here is the proposition: You will go to work for the Boston Celtics. You will have a season for the ages, and so will the Celtics. You will win individual and team awards, and become enmeshed as a beloved member of the Celtics family. At the end of the season, the Celtics will walk off the court as champions for the 16th time."
"Perfect."
"After that, your body will return to it’s steady decline into oblivion, and the Celtics will begin a spiraling descent in the same direction."
"Understood. Any other conditions?"
"Yes, you will begin to do my bidding."
"How so?"
"I need a platform. I have things I need to say. You people on earth sugar-coat everything. You're going to change all that. So, for starters, you'll go to work for the television networks as a broadcaster, and repeat every obnoxious thing that comes into my mind. After that, I'm not sure. We'll have to play it by ear. We've got a couple of different directions we can go."
"Deal."
++
UPDATE:
Curse Over.
4.08.2008
Can the Celtics End the Walton Curse?
Bill Walton played 80 regular season games for the Boston Celtics during the 1985-86 season. Prior to that season, he had never played more than 67, and he had only reached that milestone once. In fact, on more than one occasion Walton went the entire season without ever suiting up.
All told, injuries cost Walton more than 5 and 1/2 seasons of professional basketball. Yet except for a sprained wrist and a broken tooth, Walton was the picture of health for more than 8 months during the Celtics last championship run, and, if you count playoff and exhibition games, the big red head actually eclipsed the century mark in games played.
After the title was in hand, Walton's body returned to it's old, brittle self that had been its hallmark since his days at UCLA. Prior to the 1986-87 season, Walton got injured riding a stationary bike, underwent surgery, and then spent the season rehabbing. He returned to play a smidgen down the stretch, but was totally ineffective.
And, then, poof, just like that his career was over.
Smell something fishy about his health and good fortune in 1985-86?
A cabal of my friends and I did, too.
Based on our suspicions, we have postulated a theory.
We know that during the summer of 1985, Bill Walton, a native Californian, paid Jerry West a visit in anticipation of becoming a free agent. After seeing his X-rays, West told Walton "no thanks."
Despondent, Walton turned to his hippie friends for solace. Together they held a séance in his garage, with incense burning and members of the Greatful Dead playing music to summon up assistance from the netherworld.
It wasn't long before Walton was confronted by a dark and shadowy figure, a figure resembling a cross between Curtis Rowe, Vin Baker, and Rick Pitino.
"Bill, you are one of the greatest basketball players who has ever roamed the hardwood. You have been blessed. However, no man is given unlimited blessings, and your well has now run dry. "
"No, no. I have some great basketball left in me. I will do anything to play just one more season, to win one more championship."
"Anything?"
"As long as the season ends in a championship, yes, anything. "
"In that case, Bill, here is the proposition: You will go to work for the Boston Celtics. You will have a season for the ages, and so will the Celtics. You will win individual and team awards, and become enmeshed as a beloved member of the Celtics family. At the end of the season, the Celtics will walk off the court as champions for the 16th time."
"Perfect."
"After that, your body will return to it’s steady decline into oblivion, and the Celtics will begin a spiraling descent in the same direction."
"Understood. Any other conditions?"
"Yes, you will begin to do my bidding."
"How so?"
"I need a platform. I have things I need to say. You people on earth sugar-coat everything. You're going to change all that. So, for starters, you'll go to work for the television networks as a broadcaster, and repeat every obnoxious thing that comes into my mind. After that, I'm not sure. We'll have to play it by ear. We've got a couple of different directions we can go."
"Deal."
All told, injuries cost Walton more than 5 and 1/2 seasons of professional basketball. Yet except for a sprained wrist and a broken tooth, Walton was the picture of health for more than 8 months during the Celtics last championship run, and, if you count playoff and exhibition games, the big red head actually eclipsed the century mark in games played.
After the title was in hand, Walton's body returned to it's old, brittle self that had been its hallmark since his days at UCLA. Prior to the 1986-87 season, Walton got injured riding a stationary bike, underwent surgery, and then spent the season rehabbing. He returned to play a smidgen down the stretch, but was totally ineffective.
And, then, poof, just like that his career was over.
Smell something fishy about his health and good fortune in 1985-86?
A cabal of my friends and I did, too.
Based on our suspicions, we have postulated a theory.
We know that during the summer of 1985, Bill Walton, a native Californian, paid Jerry West a visit in anticipation of becoming a free agent. After seeing his X-rays, West told Walton "no thanks."
Despondent, Walton turned to his hippie friends for solace. Together they held a séance in his garage, with incense burning and members of the Greatful Dead playing music to summon up assistance from the netherworld.
It wasn't long before Walton was confronted by a dark and shadowy figure, a figure resembling a cross between Curtis Rowe, Vin Baker, and Rick Pitino.
"Bill, you are one of the greatest basketball players who has ever roamed the hardwood. You have been blessed. However, no man is given unlimited blessings, and your well has now run dry. "
"No, no. I have some great basketball left in me. I will do anything to play just one more season, to win one more championship."
"Anything?"
"As long as the season ends in a championship, yes, anything. "
"In that case, Bill, here is the proposition: You will go to work for the Boston Celtics. You will have a season for the ages, and so will the Celtics. You will win individual and team awards, and become enmeshed as a beloved member of the Celtics family. At the end of the season, the Celtics will walk off the court as champions for the 16th time."
"Perfect."
"After that, your body will return to it’s steady decline into oblivion, and the Celtics will begin a spiraling descent in the same direction."
"Understood. Any other conditions?"
"Yes, you will begin to do my bidding."
"How so?"
"I need a platform. I have things I need to say. You people on earth sugar-coat everything. You're going to change all that. So, for starters, you'll go to work for the television networks as a broadcaster, and repeat every obnoxious thing that comes into my mind. After that, I'm not sure. We'll have to play it by ear. We've got a couple of different directions we can go."
"Deal."
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