That's what Andy Warhol called the early Velvet Underground and Nico shows and for some reason, in my car today, I found the phrase very apt for describing Kevin Garnett. Maybe it's only appropriate for the first word -- exploding -- because that's what it seemed like his shouting could do to the world around him after the buzzer sounded last night. But the way those three words come together to create something wholly new and maybe somewhat destabilizing and transfixing at the same time, it fits.
The intensity and passion Garnett has for his job, how it apparently consumes and inspires him, is very interesting to watch. His post-game interview on ABC last night was quite awkward, especially when the camera remained fixed on him as she shouted (babbled?) to his mother and friends. But the moment when he almost fainted and then teammate Leon Powe held him up and said, "I've got you," as Garnett started crying, was oddly touching. It was almost like a secular version of a 19th-century itinerant preachers and their revivals, with the championship saving Garnett, as some other spirit took over his body and he started to speak in tongues.
I found the Celtics' championship win last night very satisfying, even if it only adds to the embarrassment of riches Boston sports fans can enjoy (as my beloved, wayward Mets fire Willie Randolph). I love the Mets too much to ever enjoy a Red Sox World Series victory and find football too pointless and brutish to care about the Patriots. But the Celtics have something very endearing about them. Even in a city largely defined by its highbrow industries -- academia, finance, high-tech and pharma -- I think it still values hard work above all (we all do, I suppose) and the Celtics defined that. For some reason, I've also found their coach, Doc Rivers, and our governor, Deval Patrick, to be kindred spirits. They've both been viewed skeptically by the population at-large for being able to execute their jobs, when it seems to me they're both quite competent, thoughtful and nice, and able to inspire lots of people to be loyal to them and want to go where Rivers and Patrick want to take them. I wonder if they've ever met.
Finally, did anyone else see the kooky-looking guy sitting next to Jack Nicholson in L.A. during Games 3, 4 and 5? (See above photo.) He had white hair and a white beard, and wore a white shirt, white hat, white shoes and white-rimmed sunglasses (!) to every game. Now, considering he was right next to Jack for every game, they must be friends or something. Maybe Nicholson's personal assistant? Chauffeur? I certainly wouldn't want to find myself driving behind him or Nicholson. What do you think the two of them talk about?
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