It’s sad, really. Kind of like watching an old boxer, great in his heyday, taking that last bout to extend his career farther than it should really go. The Celtics, my friends, are a present day reality of that old pro, fighting desperately to the finish, carrying all the combined baggage of countless aging stars from around the league.

‘Sheed’s baggage alone is enough to sink this ship one hundred times over. Scratch that, his weight alone is enough to sink this whole planet into oblivion. The one-time Jailblazer is flabby, enough so that his once-tight tattoos are looking more like stretched-out murals. However, I digress, as what I am really trying to get at here is how painful it is to watch this Celtics team attempting, however feebly, to capture the glory that is the NBA Championship.

The thing about the Celtics is this: You either love them or hate them, no in between. They aren’t like the Hawks, or God help us, the Grizzlies; teams that you don’t care about, win or lose. But really, side note here: What is with the Hotlanta residents and their paltry attendance at home games? Just from being a devoted “Real Housewives of Atlanta” fan, I know there is not much going on down in Georgia, other than catfights and bizarre attempts at fashion shows. So, take a night off the “hot scene” in downtown “ATL,” and watch your Hawks, because they are not too shabby. More so, the Hawks are just another reason as to why the Celtics won’t let go.

The Shamrock grandpas are the old, outdated version of a powerhouse team, whereas the Hawks are the up-and-coming Eastern Conference contenders. When the Celtics look into the mirror, they try desperately to see what they used to be: a dominant force of skill, determination, passion and experience. However, the reflection they are faced with now is bleak.

They have turned into a team of has-beens peppered with some young talent like Rajon Rondo and Kendrick Perkins. Don’t even think I’m including Big Baby in that list, as he had braces until his senior year of college. I don’t count him as anything other than a big baby who hoists up lucky shots once in a while and pushes young children as they scream his name in adulation.

Look at the roster for the Celtics. In an all-too- obvious simile, just like real stars are fading into oblivion, so too are the stars on the Celtics. Kevin Garnett? He is turning into that mean old man down the block who just seems to hate life. His go-to jumper has failed him most of the year because his legs just don’t get the lift they used to. He should be trying to adjust his moves to his age, but he just can’t let his past as the “Big Ticket” go. Ray Allen’s shot is so sporadic that he can’t even stick his toe in the realm of reliable. True, he may have the quickest release in the league, but he can’t maneuver screens and pick and rolls as well as he used to. Paul Pierce is still a solid player, even after carrying the Celtic franchise for seemingly umpteen million years. Still, even “The Truth” will tire out, as the bags under his eyes are enough to make me yawn whenever I see him.

Don’t get me wrong, I admire the Celtics and their “us against the world” mentality. I mean, if we are honest, how much more do you want something when all the cards are stacked against you? The Celtics, as old as Father Time, could use the fact that everyone has written them off as their very own fountain of youth. And so be it if they do, because that will only fuel my, and everyone else’s, extreme dislike for this truly ancient and storied franchise.