For the past two weeks, my wife and I have been reading tons of myths to my son at bedtime. Whether it’s classic Greek epics or comic books, we’ve filled his head with stories about heroes and their bravery and bravery. And the night he was traded away from Boston after a sweetheart nine years, I told him about Marcus Smart.
Somewhere between Hercules and He-Man, it stood tall as the tallest Celtic of the Brad Stevens era. I captivated my nine-year-old with stories of Tommy Points’ clever sprinting, well-timed defensive plays that shifted momentum, and hitting playoff shots whenever his team needed him most—Marcus Smart makes Marcus Smart play. Laugh with joy at watching the Cobra’s swift thefts and reckless public abandonment of Smart play with it. Admittedly, it was difficult to get him to fall in love with basketball like I did as a kid because he always viewed it as “Dad’s job,” but he really sparked Smart’s unrelenting style of play and daring to seemingly beat up the basketball giants. sling.
Then I told him how Smart had lost his brother and his mother to cancer and still always visited sick children at Boston Children’s Hospital and how he had dedicated his life YounGameChanger Foundation To help disadvantaged children and their communities.
Really hero.
You set the ultimate example of what it means to be a Boston Celtic ☘️
Thank you for your tireless commitment to the community, for giving it your all every time you step onto the field and for being our heart and soul for nine years.
thank you for everything, @ smart_MS3 pic.twitter.com/VERRdSjuch
– Boston Celtics (celtics) June 23, 2023
But the truth is that Smart was not superhuman. Smart was not infallible. On the contrary, it was probably his humanity and humility that made me root for him so hard. It wasn’t perfect. He was never the best player on earth, but he always left it all on him. He never shrunk in the moment, nor was he afraid of a shot or a defensive task. He was not afraid of anything and yet, he never felt overly confident. Intelligence always shows up if there is work to be done, no matter the odds. The quote on his Twitter profile says it best: “Strength doesn’t come from physical ability. It springs from an indomitable will.”
His critics would point out that Smart’s courage and tendency to go to great lengths was his failure. His defensive prowess and basketball intelligence were let down by his theatrical volatility. The three no-no-NOs outnumbered the no-no-yes. They will describe it as arrogance, but this is not Achilles refusing to go into battle or Icarus flying too close to the sun.
It was Celtic Pride.
It can be difficult to describe these two words together. In my 40 years as a fan, Celtic Pride has meant a lot of things. It is synonymous with winning for sure. Smart did a lot of that in his nine seasons, making win after game win after game win. Celtic Pride means the embrace of Boston and the unwavering loyalty of the fans. He has lived on the corner of love and trust his entire career. But to my son, I wanted to pass on what Smart really embodies when I talk about Celtics Pride. For me, what made Smart special was that he always cut into giving more than he had.
In his final two seasons with the Celtics—after he outlasted the All-Star and league MVP candidates to finally become the starting point guard—Smart played with a controlled reserve that seemed uncharacteristic of his younger days, a more calculating version of the blue-collar madman. The same beloved of the city. This more mature approach led to his Defensive Player of the Year award and culminated in his first trip to the NBA Finals.
But more often than not, he would touch the stars when he had to. In his signature final game, Smart scored 22 points and seven assists in a Game 6 must be won against the 76ers. He measured as PG for the team, knowing when to push the pace or slow things down. He was on Jayson Tatum’s ear after JT missed his first eleven shots but closed with four 3’s to force a Game 7. That was an indication of how much Smart has grown over the years.
But then there were those perfect clever plays that make him who he is: wrestling with Joel Embiid at the post, driving against big defenders and bullying them into the paint, tearing the rock away from would-be ballplayers. He was smart at his best – just a human doing super things.
Unfortunately, in the end, that wasn’t enough. On Wednesday night, Smart was dealt with, well, ironically, a unicorn, a mythical creature, but we’ll save that trade analysis for later.
Right now, the lesson I want to pass on to my son is that anyone can be a hero. Yes, very often our heroes cannot escape their fate, especially in this grueling action of basketball. But be smart anyway. After you’ve done everything you can, do some more. Floor burns and broken bones will heal. Put definitely Everything is at stake if it’s something you care about. And if you are lucky enough to have extra blessings in your life, be generous. Be overly generous with your time and wealth when you can.
This is what my hero does.
We will miss you Marcus. Thank you for everything. Love and trust Forever.