“…this man was one of extreme passion. His name was Tommy Heinsohn” – a great 17th century poet (whose name I cannot recall).
Watching Boston Celtics basketball is a beautiful thing on its own but that beauty is certainly enhanced by the wise words of Tommy Heinsohn. His hate for the opposition is viseral, while his love for the green and white is nothing short of glorious. His ability to remain uncontrollably biased in the face of the most irrefutable evidence is the epitome of honor. In fact, I wish I had that kind of support in my every day life. Think about it. Who wouldn’t feel better if Tommy was there to give his support when you put down the box of Fruit Loops and pick up the Cheerios. Maybe I could get a few breaks from the police attempting to give me speeding tickets if he was in the front seat yelling at them as soon as they got to my window. And I, for one, would be much better off if he was there to demand a foul everytime a girl tried to slip me a finger during a heated sexual exchange. Even if the referee didn’t see it, at least Tommy will be there calling for a flagrant foul. The possibilities are almost as endless as his loyalty. So as you watch the NBA playoffs, remember that Tommy Heinsohn is a saintly figure that should be praised at every turn. Remember that the scotch coursing through his veins is free of that Protestant taint. And remember, his dedication is a shining example for every child in this country who wears a Celtics jersey.
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