Today, we are happy to offer a guest column from Evans Clinchy, who is a Friend of The Lose despite the fact that he took a platter of oysters from me in a bet on how many games OKC would win in the first half of the NBA season. I refer to him as “Evans Ainge” because he’s a long time Boston Celtics guy, and I bounce all sorts of weird trade ideas and scenarios for the C’s off of him, to which he usually replies with things like, “Who are you again?” and, “Do I know you?” Evans is a seasoned vet on the NBA beat, both in New England and in the Pacific Northwest, and you can find him online at twitter.com/evansclinchy and also at evansclinchy.tumblr.com.
THEY say a picture is worth a thousand words, which means simple arithmetic dictates I shouldn’t even bother writing this piece. The animated GIF you see above basically constitutes a mammoth essay – tens of thousands of words – about how I want to remember Rajon Rondo.
That play took place seven years ago today. It was May 9, 2010, and the Celtics were down 2-1 in their second-round playoff series against the Cavaliers. Game 4 was a big nationally televised showdown on a Sunday afternoon. It was Mother’s Day. It was a must-win game for the Celtics, and a chance for the Cavs to move one step closer to that elusive first championship.
It was a game Rondo would absolutely own.
For that one afternoon, it felt like the best basketball player in the universe was in the building and LeBron James was too. LeBron in 2010 was just about at his peak. He’d just won the second of his four MVPs. He was everything to those Cavaliers – their emotional leader, their leading scorer, playmaker, defensive Swiss Army knife. He was the clear best all-around player in the game. But for one day, Rondo out-LeBronned LeBron. He stole the show. He finished that afternoon with 29 points, 18 rebounds and 13 assists, carrying the Celtics to a season-saving win. Those numbers – only Oscar Robertson (32-19-13) and Wilt Chamberlain (29-36-13) had ever matched all three in a playoff game. Not even King James was that good.
That win swung the series. The Celtics had been down 2-1; first they evened the score, then they blew the Cavs’ doors off in a shocking Game 5 blowout in Cleveland, then they ended it in Game 6 at home. At series’ end, LeBron famously ripped his Cavaliers jersey off in the hallway heading to the TD Garden visitors’ locker room. That summer, he left for Miami. The NBA’s monarch had been chased out of town by a 24-year-old point guard who couldn’t shoot.
That’s the thing about peak Rajon Rondo. He wasn’t just disgustingly good at basketball (although he certainly was that) – more than that, he was historically significant. That Mother’s Day in 2010 propelled the Celtics to the NBA Finals, where they came within one ridiculous Ron Artest 3-pointer of winning their 18th championship. It also brought the 2000s Cavaliers, once a true NBA powerhouse, to their knees.
A lot can change in seven years. I’ve witnessed this phenomenon up close. In 2010, I was a Celtics beat reporter, following the team around and chronicling their Cinderella playoff run. I was in the front row for Doc Rivers’ postgame news conference on May 9 when he sat and gushed for minutes on end about how he’d never seen a point guard like Rondo before. In 2017, I sat alone in a musty dive bar in Washington, D.C. and sipped a DC Brau Public Pale Ale as the Chicago Bulls, with Rondo watching from the bench, blew a 2-0 series lead and were eliminated in the first round by the Celtics. The series swung when Rondo fractured his right thumb and sat out Games 3 through 6. In 2010, his presence was enough to slay giants; in ‘17, his absence paved the way for the mercy killing of a shitty pseudo-playoff team that all of America was praying would go home anyway.
It was a slow burn that brought us to this point. Rondo stayed in peak form for another couple of years after that magical 2010 run; he was an All-Star and the best player on a strong East contender in 2011 and 2012, taking the Celtics as far as he could each spring before being eliminated by LeBron’s Heat both years. The downfall began in 2013. On January 25, he drove to the basket late in a Friday night game against the Atlanta Hawks and tweaked his knee; he played 12 more minutes on the bad leg before the night was done. That weekend, he discovered he’d been playing on a torn ACL. He would miss almost a full 12 months before returning the following January. He wasn’t the same after that; he’d lost a step athletically, and he also wasn’t flanked by multiple Hall of Fame teammates. The Celtics had begun a rebuild in his absence.
Eventually, that rebuilding effort grew to include shipping Rondo away. He went to Dallas, where he fit so poorly that coach Rick Carlisle basically told him to stay home from a playoff game in April 2015. From there, he signed a make-good contract for one year in Sacramento. It turned out to be a make-mediocre; he averaged 12 points and 12 assists a game, but also alienated teammates and coaches and got in a heap of trouble for outing a gay referee by directing ugly homophobic slurs his way during a game. Through it all, Rondo remained just barely employable enough to get another gig, signing with the Bulls last summer.
This year was odd. The Bulls got off to a hellacious start, going 8-4 in their first 12 games and boasting the top offense in the NBA. Rondo was a key part of it. Then the losing started, and so did the pouting. Rondo and Fred Hoiberg soured on one another fast; Hoiberg benched his starting point guard by New Year’s. By late January, Rondo was taking to Instagram to publicly vent about the Bulls’ veteran leadership, stating in no uncertain terms that Jimmy Butler and Dwyane Wade couldn’t lead a team like his old pals in Boston, Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce. The Bulls were in disarray. They were just barely treading water in the East playoff race, and even when they won, it was the ugliest show on hardwood.
Rondo randomly had a late-season renaissance in March; he dropped 24 on the Raptors one night (including four 3-pointers!) and had 15 assists in a surprising win over the Cavaliers. He led the Bulls back from the brink of playoff death, and they snuck into the playoffs as a No. 8. He then averaged a double-double in Chicago’s first two playoff games against Boston, his former team; then, of course, came the thumb injury. The Bulls are now outside the playoffs looking in, and a summer of uncertainty awaits. The team has an option to bring Rondo back. They probably will, but they’re not exactly thrilled about it. Rondo is past his prime, and the Bulls don’t have any viable path to being truly competitive again, with or without him.
It’s weird to think about how we got here. Rondo’s star has fallen so far, so fast. He’s still only 31 years old today. He could still be a great player! Why isn’t he?
This question has been asked and answered to death over the last three years. The debate has raged on since 2014, when Rondo returned post-ACL to a young, rebuilding Celtics team that was in the tank. They had a 15-game stretch late that spring when they went 1-14, and questions about Rondo’s decline began seeping into the national discourse. Some speculated that it was the injury – he just wasn’t the same player without two healthy knees. Others cited his surroundings – without Garnett, Pierce and Ray Allen to pass to, what’s a pass-first point guard to do? Still others theorized that the game had passed Rondo by. He was a non-shooting perimeter player in a fast-modernizing NBA that valued shooting at all five positions. The game was no longer holding a place for him.
Me, I’m tired of the debate. I think it’s clear at this point that the correct answer is some combination of all three, and I don’t have much interest in quibbling over precisely how much of each thing it is. I do think that there’s also a fascinating psychological component there – Rondo was used to being an important NBA player from a young age, and it became difficult to cope when he was forced to transition into being “just another guy.” Rondo was the starting point guard for a championship team at 22. He outplayed LeBron in a playoff series at 24. When you start your career off with such unmitigated success, it’s hard to grapple with the fact that life won’t always be that way.
I can relate. In a lot of ways, my life has mirrored Rondo’s. He was born in 1986, grew up in the South and came to the Celtics when drafted in 2006; I was also born in 1986, grew up in the South and came to Boston for college. In 2006, I got started writing about the Celtics in a column for my college paper. In 2008, Rondo won a title; my first professional journalism gig was covering the team’s victory parade. In 2010, Rondo was briefly on top of the basketball world, at least in terms of individual stardom; I had a job right out of college covering him, which pretty much felt like the pinnacle of life for me, too.
Rondo had his flaws and so did I. He was a basketball player who didn’t particularly like taking jump shots; I was a journalist who didn’t particularly like reporting. We both could be a little prickly when authority figures rubbed us the wrong way. We both also fell victim to timing and circumstance and luck. Long story short, he’s now a fringe starter on a relatively crappy team and I now have a relatively boring desk job.
I try to avoid thinking of either Rondo or myself as someone who peaked at 24, though. Human beings don’t necessarily have “peaks,” anyway. Time isn’t a flat circle, or however the hell that cliché goes. Life brings all sorts of ups and downs and sidewayses.
Rondo, warts and all, will kinda always be my favorite player. He’s talented and misunderstood and enigmatic and flawed and stubborn and maddening and endlessly compelling. There’s so much there to unpack. I’ll probably never be truly done unpacking it.
I continue to hope for the best for Rondo, even though I know nothing he does now can ever live up to the old days. I’m still a sucker for the little mini-redemption stories, like the one he spun for us in March and April this year. And no matter how far he declines, I still try to remember the good times.
Seven years ago today, Rajon Rondo gave the second-best performance I’ve ever seen in person. (The best was Game 6 of the East finals in 2012, when LeBron dropped 45 in an elimination game and singlehandedly saved Miami’s season on the road in Boston.) I’m still thinking about that Mother’s Day today. I think it’s part of the human condition that we go through life doing our best to conjure up the good memories and suppress the bad ones. The ACL tear, the Dallas fiasco, the Bill Kennedy incident, the Instagram post – I do my best to forget those things ever happened. I try to remember Rondo my way – putting up triple-doubles on national television, faking the King out of his shoes and just generally being a badass. That’s the Rondo I’ll remember.
