A World Out of A Moment
on allowances, on the Boston Celtics
Cs in 4, baby.
The thing is, I really did not want to go to Indianapolis. The three hour drive from Chicago is easy enough. In fact, it is quite easy. Really, any drive is an easy one when you know that your destination is worth the miles of gas, hours of life. If you leave early enough or late enough, whatever happens to fall into your perception of time, the most congestion you will find is somewhere between the Lincoln Park LaSalle exit on Lake Shore Drive and Gary, Indiana. Otherwise, it really just comes down to committing to stretches of asphalt slicing up farmland into a piecemeal mosaic. But a recent memory connected to Indianapolis left a sour taste in my mouth. After months of winter wind burning my skin, the harsh air finally had eased. Coming out to greet the world, I was finally starting to feel like myself again. The thing is, I was worried a reintroduction to the city would result in another acrid memory claiming space on my tongue.
From the jump, I had hoped my hometown Boston Celtics would play the Indiana Pacers. Living in Chicago, that’d be my best bet for a relatively affordable playoff ticket to see my team. My hope, sitting tall and wide-eyed, floated me towards also rooting for the Pacers in this playoff run. I had considered grabbing tickets to see them play up in Milwaukee for the first round, but I quickly shrugged off the thought. There wasn’t a game that worked well with my schedule, and I couldn’t convince myself it was worth a late night drive back home or paying for a hotel. So I held out. I released the want and sustained hope something better would come along.
Even when they were up against the undeniable chemistry and charm of the New York Knicks, I still rooted for the Pacers. What can I say – I have grown a soft spot for these Midwest teams. Especially one like the Pacers. Young, quick, and hungry, this team has just been fun to watch this past year. And, of course, my ulterior motive was rooted in geography. Door to door, Gainsbridge Fieldhouse is just under 200 miles away from my home in Chicago. If you’re cruising 10 to 20 above the speed limit, it’s just over a three hour drive. So I set aside the thrill of the Nova Knicks and stuck with the Pacers. All this just for the thought of catching an Eastern Conference Finals (ECF) game with the Celtics only a, give or take, three hour drive away. And my commitment was worth it.
Once the Pacers won their series against the Knicks and advanced to the ECF, my mind was clear. Midwest romantics, I’ve learned, are fleeting. The excitement and novelty burns out at some point. The investment towards something sustainable just hasn’t been made quite yet. But that’s ok. We had a good run, a fun time. It’s not that it didn’t mean anything, but it just wasn’t going to last forever. I knew from the jump that my rendezvous with the Pacers was a mere stop on the larger journey towards my one, true love – the Boston Celtics.
My affection for the Celtics is largely due to my best friend, Caitlin. As in any other retelling of a great friendship, that title doesn’t adequately explain the role we have held in each other’s lives. Often, when something happens in our lives, we are the first people we call. The size of the matter has always been irrelevant because we are known to make a world out of a moment. It’s what we do best. And without fail, we will find a way to discuss it for at least an hour.
Caitlin is the hallmark of consistency, safety, and compassion. It is through our relationship that I have witnessed love, the action. How it simultaneously covers you and gives you space to breathe. Working with you to understand how that balance must evolve as we grow on our own paths. When I am unsure of myself, Caitlin offers so much more than support. She holds a mirror to my face and patiently sits with me until I begin to see a fraction of what she has always known. There is always time for each other. We will wait until the other knows it is safe to exhale.
Being in a long distance friendship can, at times, be devastating. It has been several years since we lived in the same town, but in the past year and half, being a three hour flight away has proved to be trying. Often, I wish I could drive to her Boston apartment with an overnight bag. Of course, it’d be filled to the brim with an excessive amount of outfit options and skincare. Yet, I could never find enough room to squeeze in a tube of toothpaste. A few pairs of shoes would roll and rattle in my trunk on the drive over – a familiar hum setting the tone for whatever adventure we would make out of the day. But what I really miss the most is just walking into her home being goofy and distracting her, just for a moment, from whatever she had on her to-do list. Her husband, Josh, would look on as we would lose ourselves in wheezing laughter, as we would make a world out of a moment. Inevitably, he would join in on the sweet chaos. There just would be too much love in the room to not give into our joy.
My origin story with Caitlin lands us in our freshman year of high school marked by our alarmingly unhealthy love for the Fox hit tv show, Glee. There have been times in my life where I likely would have said that I wish it were different. But thirteen years later, there is absolutely nothing I would change about our lives together. With a friendship that formed out of the shared unhinged fandom of Glee, it is unsurprising that we are Very Serious Celtics fans. Beyond the game, we share memes and highlights and convoluted inside jokes. Without fail, we take it all the tiniest bit too personal. Marcus Smart being traded last offseason? A deep mourning we both definitely took personally.
But this all to say, my love for the Celtics is really just an extension of my love for my best friend, Caitlin. When I watch a game, I think about how she is likely watching it too. I think about how no matter our distance, we will always live under the same NBA night sky illuminated by sneaker squeaks bouncing off the walls into the rafters through the seats of whatever stadium our boys are dreaming in.
As Memorial Day approaches, I weigh the decision of heading to Indianapolis for a game. The game; Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals. The game that could be what catapults the Celtics into the NBA Finals. I talked to Caitlin about it. She was aware of my hesitancy and never imparted judgment; there is not a moment of my life where she reduced it to something small or insignificant. She was sensitive and understanding to the fact that I simply felt this one deeply. She remained patient as we weighed the pros and cons together. After some thoughtful deliberation, she asked me to answer a question for myself. When would I ever see a possibly deciding ECF Game 4 with the Celtics for under $150 a ticket? The answer was clear. I was Indianapolis bound.
It is a daily practice to allow myself to want the things I want. To trust I am worthy of receiving them. To trust I am capable of navigating the painful moments to find my way to the overwhelmingly joyous ones. I drive down thinking about how this moment is a culmination of faith and love, both from myself and my people who see me even when I cannot. I look forward through the windshield and take in the asphalt becoming one with the horizon. To both sides of me, I notice how the farmland this time around is green, full unlike my last visit in December. I slow down to the speed limit and bask in the romance of a solo trip to Indianapolis.
Once in town, I took in the sweetness of catching up with my friend Taylor at his bookstore. I took in the peculiar excitement that comes from an impromptu decision of him and his brother buying last minute tickets to the game a row behind me. I took in the easy camaraderie of catching an Uber with Pacers fans gushing about how excited they all are to just be here as I proudly wore my homemade Derrick White t-shirt with an image of his buzzer beater win in last year’s ECF Game 6 win against the Miami Heat. I took in the sweat glistened kids shooting hoops in front of Gainsbridge Fieldhouse. Darting back and forth in both green and yellow, I took in feeling the euphoria of a game that will always be rooted in love. An undeniable sweep of magic had seeped through every inch of this city in that moment. There was no other place I could imagine being.
The game, of course, is close. The last five minutes of the game send my stomach to my throat. I am at the edge of my seat. As expected, I become an increasingly disheveled bundle of nerves and stress as the seconds drag on. With 4:56 on the clock, Tatum steps back and launches the ball into the hoop. Nothing but net – we are at a three-point game. I am on the edge of my seat. With 4:44 on the clock, White gains possession of the ball from Pacers’ Siakim. I am on my feet. The game picks up and holds a frantic pace in these last minutes with back and forth baskets, back and forth misses. There is no time to sit back down. But it is at 2:42 when Brown ties the game, I know I can trust my feet to hold me up.
Back to back, White then Tatum misses three-pointers. But I trust this team. With 1:04 on the clock, Brown blocks Pacers’ Nembhard, rebounds to Horford, passes to Holiday. I am losing my voice and mind concurrently as he drives back down the court and passes to Brown. Eyes quick. He searches for an opening. Feet quick. He drives towards the hoop before passing to White. 45.4 seconds on the clock. Whatever is left of me is thrown at the court as White pulls out a glorious corner three point shot. This moment mirrors the moment to the exact day last year when White pulled out a corner three point buzzer beater shot in the ECF forcing a Game 7 against the Miami Heat; the moment that is printed on my t-shirt. History on my body and in front of my eyes. The Boston Celtics are up by three.
The Boston Celtics win. Tatum throws up the ball into the rafters, the heavens. And we celebrate – glory and electricity surges in. I am in tears and on my feet in this moment, in this life. A new memory in this city is solidifying in real time. I look around, unable to take it all in fast enough. So I cruise. I bask. I feel my phone buzz. Caitlin is Facetiming me. She appears with Josh on the screen, and we scream. I pan the camera so they can cruise and bask with me. Catch the glimmers of green coming into focus as the yellow clears out of the stadium. I cannot hear anything she says to me. It doesn’t matter, though. The size of the moment is clear. We are under the same NBA night sky hearing the same sneaker squeaks bouncing off the walls into the rafters through the seats of Gainsbridge Fieldhouse. I am happy. I am proud. The Celtics have won the 2024 Eastern Conference Finals. And when something happens in our lives, we are the first people we call.
I know very little little about basketball but I love a love story 🥹 Such a beautiful friendship you and Caitlin share! The people you can make a world out of a moment with are so special.
Shivani, thanks for writing this. I see you fam, although and because I am a die hard Knick fam, I understand the joys and stresses of following and supporting your team, and EYE 2 was a huge Glee fan. Your friendship with Caitlin sounds beautiful, and fulfilling, I love that for the both of you!