Last modified: Sunday, June 22, 2008 1:37 AM EDT Wyc Grousbeck flashes the new championship banner. (ASSOCIATED PRESS) FARINELLA: Watching Celts fun, not work BY MARK FARINELLA SUN CHRONICLE STAFF In this profession, I don't often have the luxury of just being a fan. It's not possible during the football season, and the separation I need to have between fandom and covering football is so ingrained in me that it carries over to how I perceive other sports. I tried to explain that to the fellow behind the counter at one of the sporting-goods stores in the local mall the other day, probably without much success. "Are you a Celtics fan?" he asked as I perused the selection of hats, looking for one to cover my increasingly balding head while driving in the ragtop. "Ummmm ... well, not really." "Red Sox? Patriots? Are you a fan of a team from someplace else?" he asked. "Well, ummm, ahhh ... no, not really," I said. "I'm not really allowed to be. I'm a sportswriter." Fortunately, the fellow behind the counter didn't immediately react as if I had The Plague from that admission, as many of you do these days. He wanted to know what it was like, and what team I covered and so on, and I gladly obliged. And then I admitted something to him. "I don't cover the Celtics in person, so I was able to just sit in front of my TV Tuesday night and watch Game 6 like anyone else," I said. "And you know what? I really enjoyed it." Indeed, I did. One of my closest friends joined me at stately Fearless Manor for an evening of my World Famous Mini-Pizzas and basketball viewing, without the pressure of dealing with the crush of humanity at a championship-series venue or the pressure of deadlines, and I had a blast. My friend, a former basketball player herself, watched Game 6 of the Celtics-Lakers series with as much intensity as I, if not more so - in fact, she had more working knowledge of the Celtics and the NBA than I - until the exhaustion of a normal 9-to-5 job in the city (and the 9 p.m. start to the game) kicked in. By the early stages of the third quarter, she was in dreamland ... although she did give me dispensation to rouse her from her slumber in time to see the Celtics wrap up the impressive victory and celebrate their 17th NBA championship. I have to admit, it was the first playoff game I had watched from beginning to end in its entirety. My attention span for sports I'm not covering in person has changed over the years, to the point where I probably have carpal tunnel syndrome in both thumbs from overworking my cable remote. But in this instance, I watched every second of this game and marveled at what Danny Ainge and Doc Rivers hath wrought. Before this season started back in the fall, the NBA ranked on my personal meter of disinterest close to Major League Soccer and the WWE. I had grown weary of the brutish, physical play that no longer resembled basketball as I knew it. I didn't want to see 10 tight ends on the floor, either banging themselves senseless or winging up three-pointers recklessly, and with the Celtics having spent most of the last two decades in the dumper, I found no reason to follow them or their league. It took a while into this season for me to start paying attention to the magic on Causeway Street. Gradually, I recognized how three legitimate star-caliber players put aside their egos and found common ground in a quest for the championship that had eluded all of them. It was easy to be impressed by Kevin Garnett's dedication to defense and rebounding, and Ray Allen's quiet professionalism and clutch shooting. It was more impressive, however, to see the evolution and growth of Paul Pierce from the best player on a bad team into a leader and team player who was comfortable in the knowledge that with the supporting cast around him, he didn't need to always be "the star." I had never been much of a Paul Pierce fan, but in the first few minutes of Game 6, he finally won me over totally. When the outside shots weren't falling, Pierce immediately turned to other aspects of his game - passing, setting picks and screens - to create opportunities for his teammates. That's an example that any basketball player, of any gender or age, should heed. By the end of Tuesday's game, I had morphed ever so briefly into Joe Everyfan, whooping and cheering every steal by Rajon Rondo, every undefended three-pointer by Allen (what were the Lakers thinking, anyway?), every near-impossible finish by Garnett, every example of textbook fundamental basketball by Pierce and every contribution by the guys on the bench. It all came together in such a way, the Lakers never had a chance - and they knew it. For the first time in a long time, a professional sporting event had become fun for me, and not just work. After I got through telling this story (in abridged form) to the fellow behind the counter at the mall, he looked at me and said, "I've got the hat just for you." He pointed to a simple white baseball cap with the green Celtics logo in front - no other embroidery needed. Just a simple reminder of a few hours when I could put the job aside and remember for a short while why I got into this business in the first place. If you see me tooling around the streets of the area with that white cap on my head, and not one of my many other baseball caps from cities far removed from Boston, now you know the reason behind it. MARK FARINELLA may be reached at 508-236-0315 or via e-mail at mfarinel@thesunchronicle.com