Green Knows No Mercy
they came in hot,
like the first drink on a Tuesday when the rent’s overdue—
Boston, that city of cracked teeth and frozen dreams,
those boys in green didn’t play a game last night—
they started a damn war.
Orlando came at them like a dream gone sideways,
all swagger and bounce,
but dreams don’t win you games in the Garden,
not when the ghosts are watching from the rafters,
Red, Bird, Russell—
even the sweat-soaked echo of Garnett screaming
“Anything is possible!”
still lingers in the wood.
the ball moved like jazz—
improvised, dangerous, never quite where you expected it,
and Tatum,
he painted the hardwood like it was a chapel,
every step a hymn, every jumper a sermon—
26 points with the calm of a man
who’s stared into the mirror
and told himself the truth.
Jaylen Brown?
he was fury wrapped in a headband,
the kind of guy you want in your foxhole
when the night gets ugly and the crowd gets quiet.
19 points, and not a damn one of them came easy—
he earned them.
like a man hauling his father’s sins
up a mountain with no summit.
the Celtics?
they didn’t win pretty,
they won right—
defense like a closing door,
no escape,
Orlando huffing and puffing
while Boston stood still and said:
you don’t get through here unless you bleed.
Horford turned back the years,
like a barfly who found his rhythm again—
the old man don’t jump high,
but he knows where the ball will fall.
there’s poetry in wisdom
if you know where to look.
and the bench—
ha!
they came alive like old typewriters clacking under neon,
Hauser with daggers,
White throwing elbows at destiny.
they weren’t just playing basketball,
they were writing a goddamn declaration.
the final buzzer was more than a sound—
it was a statement:
this team’s not here for endorsements or headlines.
they’re here for legacy.
for banners and bruises.
and now?
they move on.
to the semis,
where the lights burn hotter
and the nights get longer.
but Boston?
Boston doesn’t flinch.
Boston drinks that pressure.
they sip it slow
and wait for the next poor soul
to walk into their bar
asking for a fight.
end of the quarter.
the blood’s just getting warm.
Celtics advance to the semis.