Physicality is the key to Boston Celtics playoff success
By Oliver Fox
The Boston Celtics crushed the Philadelphia 76ers in Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals. But how?
Physicality.
I can hear your chuckles and sense your eye rolls all the way from this web page. Yes, it is blatantly obvious that “physicality” is a huge factor in any win. Except it actually isn’t obvious all the time, evidenced by the Celtics failing miserably at consistently bringing it. On paper, there’s nothing wrong with that.
Because technically, basketball is not a full-contact sport. There are only a few legal ways to make contact with an offensive player, and all of them consist of the defender merely standing their ground. Physical play is, at least in theory, discouraged, and an ideal defensive play only makes contact with the ball.
Physicality is the key to Boston Celtics playoff success
Except this is the playoffs, so throw all that schoolhouse nonsense out the window. The winning team is often the one that gets the closest to the edge of legality without actually breaking the rules…all that much, so it’s time we activated our critical thinking skills. Oh, and while we’re at it, let’s develop an entire basketball philosophy from a children’s book. I present… the Goldilocks and the Three Bears Scale of Playoff Physicality.
Too Cold
Prime Example: 2022 NBA Finals Jayson Tatum, Game 2 James Harden
This flavor of basketball is soft, effortless, and arrogant. If James Naismith had been granted eternal life and been crowned Emperor of Basketball, this is probably how the NBA would look today. It is a passionless and dejected form of basketball, one where a commitment to scoring blinds an entire team to the fact that they actually have an opponent. A human one. That can get tired. If you make them run. And semi-legally bump into them.
The Celtics’ proclivity for playing like cold porridge is the product of a simple evolution of NBA rosters: every player was—at some point in their basketball lives—the primary ball handler and offensive initiator. A young team like the Celtics consists of enough twenty-somethings, all who remember their college days when they had to create offense, that their efforts to shoot themselves out of a hole lead to physical disengagement.
(Raises hand from back of class) “Ahem, but what if they can actually shoot themselves back into the game? Why do they need to stay physical if they build up a lead?”
Alright, pipe down 2021 Donovan Mitchell. Staying physical even with a lead is essential in the playoffs for one simple reason: it keeps your competitive blood flowing. In order to not blow an 18-point fourth quarter lead—a Celtics classic—a team must Jedi Mind Trick themselves into believing they are still fighting, which all starts with your body language.
Too Hot
Prime Example: Game 2 Marcus Smart, Game 1 Marcus Smart
Welcome to the Church of Marcus Smart, or if that doesn’t suit you, may I interest you in the way-less-cool Church of P.J. Tucker?
These two men embody an overly physical style of play. It is not a basketball philosophy, but rather a religious commitment, demanding fanatical devotion to throwing your body all over the place.
And as tempting as playing football on a basketball court may be, this style is wildly inconsistent, equally likely to torpedo a team’s chances as it is to swing the tide in their favor. Take the scrappy player calling card: taking a charge. Teleporting in front of a driving offensive player in order to draw an offensive foul can radically change momentum, but is equally if not more likely to result in a blocking foul or worse, an And-1 since the charge-drawer is making next to no attempt to contest the shot.
Note: the referee signal for an offensive foul is one of the coolest hand gestures in sports. It is lifted almost directly from a baseball umpire’s punch-out on a strikeout looking, and the cool factor definitely contributes to the disproportionate effect on momentum. The signal for blocking fouls looks stupid, and does anyone care about blocking fouls? I rest my case.
Worse still in the dive-for-a-loose-ball-in-traffic move, something I call the Hospital Hustle. In Game 2, Smart executed two textbook Hospital Hustles, the first almost snapping Tucker’s leg in half and the second resulting in all 280 pounds of Embiid landing on top of him like a weighted blanket made of concrete. As electric as they were in the moment, both could have resulted in catastrophic injuries, which is never an okay way to play.
Just Right
Prime Examples: 2022 NBA Finals Andrew Wiggins, Game 2 Jaylen Brown
(Chris Collinsworth voice) “Ah, Andrew Wiggins, man. Now here’s a guy who understands what it means to play physically. The body composition, the discipline, the explosiveness…ho ho ho Mike isn’t he just something?”
In all seriousness, had Stephen Curry not played out of his mind in the NBA Finals, Wiggins would have easily deserved Finals MVP honors. Unlike many younger players, he figured out that his opponent—most of the time Jayson Tatum—had little to no interest in physical contact, constantly trying to go around or away from defenders. Wiggins then pounced, using his freakazoid athletic abilities to body Tatum off his spots repeatedly, as well as totally legally, until the Celtics’ favorite son was reduced to a middling factor.
Jaylen found the same story to be true about James Harden in Game 2. Conceivably less fresh without the eight days of rest he had before Game 1, Harden was picked up full court by Jaylen for much of the game, understanding that if he could just make Harden uncomfortable enough to pass the ball, he lacked the initiative or the physicality to play through it.
The only method Harden could find to score was through free throws, and my feelings about how he and Embiid are officiated is a conversation for another time.
The tangible effect physicality has on the game is hardly the only reason it’s essential. As mentioned before, keeping the competitive energy even with a comfortable lead turns blown leads into blowouts. Physicality helps the Boston Celtics stay committed.
It’s just like laughing along with that unfunny joke your friend told to impress their totally disinterested crush. In order to survive the situation, you have to force yourself to believe the game is still on.
Being able to maintain bloodthirsty intensity is what separates good teams from great ones, and is the single greatest limiting factor facing the Boston Celtics each game. If they truly want Banner 18 — something their official playoff hashtag #Unfin18edBusiness swears — then they better bring some properly heated porridge to the arena every single night.