An open letter to Ron Mercer.

The third and sixth picks of the 1997 NBA Draft.

Dear Ron,

First of all, I hope you agree that we're on a first-name basis now.  In this crazy mixed-up digital world we live in, I think your indulgence of my shameless retweet request last week constitutes a legitimate friendship, bordering on full-out "bromance."  If, however, I've misread this one, I'm still glad to have registered a blip on your social media radar as a Celtic fan who remembers you fondly.

You may have only played 121 games in the green and white, Ron, but I'll never forget game no. 1 when you matched up with MJ and helped upset his 2-time defending champion Bulls on Halloween.  And I'll always wonder whether -- given the proper time and encouragement -- you and Chauncey could have lived up to Coach Pitino's "backcourt of the future" moniker.  We all know how Chauncey eventually became Mr. Big Shot in Motown, and, with your tireless athleticism and stellar mid-range game, I don't see why you couldn't have developed into a (much) more highlight-friendly Rip Hamilton in some alternate universe.

It's not, however, that magical opening night in '97 or your untapped potential alone that have made you so unforgettable to me.  And it's not my ownership of both your home and away no. 5 replica jerseys, either.  There's something more.  And that "something more" also has a lot to do with my love for the 2012 Boston Celtics.

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I sat with Red [Auerbach] during a Christmas party [20 years ago].  Red was talking to Larry [Bird], Kevin [McHale], and myself, and there was a lot of trade discussion at the time, and Red actually shared some of the trade discussions. 

And I told Red, 'What are you doing?  Why are you waiting?'

He had a chance to trade Larry [to Indiana] for Chuck Person, Herb Williams, and [Steve] Stipanovich, and he had a chance to trade Kevin [to Dallas] for Detlef Schrempf and Sam Perkins.  I was like, 'Are you kidding?'  I mean, I feel that way now. 

If I were presented with those kind of deals for our aging veterans, it’s a done deal to continue the success.

Did you happen to catch this quote from Danny Ainge in the Globe back in January, Ron?  If not, I understand; you were probably too busy cheering on your Wildcats to keep a close eye on the goings-on of the Association.  Either way, I'm sure you'll agree with my assessment, both then and now, that this ish is bananas.

First of all, let's keep it real: "those kind of deals" would not have made the 1990s any less difficult on Causeway Street.  The Celtics' free fall into irrelevancy during the Clinton administration was primarily the result of tragedy -- of mourning the untimely passing of two franchise-caliber players in Len Bias and Reggie Lewis.  It's often said that the NBA is a superstar's league, and that's true.  Where would the Thunder be today without Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook?  Exactly.

The Celtics, of course, were hurt by a slew of personnel mistakes, as well.  Passing on Eddie Jones and Jalen Rose for the likes of Eric Montross in the '94 Draft and, yes, giving up on you and Chauncey much too soon come immediately to mind.  But failure to pull the trigger on those Bird and McHale trades were not among our biggest mistakes.  More to the point, they should never be counted among our biggest regrets.

Thanks but no thanks.

There may be no crying in baseball, but sentimentality does have its place in sports.  A fan shouting "We love you, Cooz!" in an emotional pause during the Houdini of the Hardwood's retirement speech in '63 has been as enduring a moment as any during in-game action on the parquet floor for a reason.  And it's the same reason I still remember your flash-in-the-pan career so fondly, Ron: The connection between players and their fans can be very real.

In your case, the connection was personal: I was 10 years old when you were drafted, and you were one of my first favorite athletes.  But with Bird and McHale, much like Cousy, the connection was New England telephone-strong across the 617 area code and beyond.  Trading either would have cheapened that connection with Celtic Nation.  Red was right to decline to do so, regardless of whether you're delusional enough to believe Big Smooth and Detlef could have been difference makers alongside Rick Fox and Dino Radja.

Back in January, the revelation that Danny Ainge didn't agree scared me.  After almost sending Rajon Rondo the way of his BFF Perk before the season began, would he really jettison one of the "new" Big Three at the trade deadline?  Would the Big Four Era that began with so much enthusiasm and energy really flicker to an end midway through a messy and disappointing condensed season?

We've since learned just how close Danny came to sending Ray to Memphis and Paul to Jay-Z, but it didn't pan out.  And for that, all Celtic fans should be thankful.  After their much-scrutinized slow first half, the 2012 Celtics, led by the Big Four, gave us a ride -- and solidified a connection -- we won't soon forget.

The Big Four will always be a part of Boston.

It all crested in game 5 against the Heatles.  Each of the Big Four had their Moment.

For Rajon Rondo, it was erasing a demoralizing D-Wade block on Brandon Bass with a pretty touch pass to Mickael Pietrus that required instant replay to fully appreciate.  Rondo could have easily lost that 50-50 ball to the bigger, stronger LBJ, and that block could have been a spark for a Miami run.  Instead, Air France got a clean look at a right corner three and knocked it in, the first of his two critical shots from that spot en route to victory.  If Rondo's jump shot-heavy 44-point performance in game 2 represented all that Celtic fans hope our point guard can be in the future, this play represented the no. 9 we have all grown to know and love.  The dogged persistence.  The breathtaking court awareness.  The downright quirkiness of it all.

For Kevin Garnett, it was that vicious and-1, one-handed dunk at the end of the third quarter.  It was the KG Renaissance of 2012, crystallized in one golden moment.  It was the kind of vision that danced in the heads of Celtic fans in the summer of 2007 and made them so giddy.  It was the transformational intensity of The Big Ticket -- the intensity that was responsible, more than any other single factor, for hanging banner no. 17 in the rafters -- condensed into the satisfying "thud" of a basketball slamming against the back rim, and (perhaps) a single tear, camouflaged amid sweat, rolling down the cheek of James Jones.  It was emotion beyond words.

For Ray Allen, it was the simple act of converting two free throws.  Less than a week before, I had lamented Ray's "Shaq-esque accuracy" from the charity stripe in the postseason.  On this night, however, Ray was a Ray Allen-esque 6-for-6 when he stepped to the line with 13 seconds remaining in the contest -- and with the C's clinging to a 90-88 lead.  We needed 8-for-8 to make it a two-possession game, and Celtic Nation once again felt that calm, familiar confidence in our favorite OCD shooting guard, deep in our collective bones.  It was hard not to smile when that confidence was validated as Boston's all-time leading free throw shooter brought us one step closer to the "W."

And then there was Paul Anthony Pierce.

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It is one of the most memorable sequences in the storied history of the Boston Celtics.  The Garden was host to Game 5 of the 1987 Eastern Conference Finals, and, with mere seconds left to play, the Detroit Pistons clung to a 107-106 lead over the hometown team. 

Then, Isiah Thomas threw a lazy inbounds pass to Bill Laimbeer, and, in the blink of an eye, Larry Legend stepped in, stole the ball on the baseline, and hit Dennis Johnson cutting toward the basket for a layup.  Game over. 

"What a play by Bird!" screeched Johnny Most.  "Oh my, this place is going crazy!" 

If Paul Pierce were in no. 33's sneakers during that play, I would be willing to bet that DJ would have never received the basketball.  Instead, Paul would have pump faked and thrown up a hopeless, fall-away jumper as he stumbled out of bounds.

How about this quote, Ron?  Do you remember reading this one?  Probably not, because I doubt you were reading my high school newspaper in February of 2005.  If you were, you might remember this as the lead from a column I wrote entitled, "The Truth Can Hurt: Trade Paul Pierce."

In said article, I complained about Paul's "tendency to dominate the ball and interrupt the flow of the Celtic offense."  I pointed a finger at the Captain for the C's losing "a disproportionate number of close contests" due to his "barrage of low percentage shots" in the waning minutes of games.  I lauded Tyree Ricardo Davis as a better crunch-time option because of his superior trust in teammates, and I claimed Paul was expendable because of the emergence of Jiri Welsch.  My grand conclusion was advocating a trade to "snatch up" Portland's Shareef Abdur-Rahim, known then to be on the market.

I'm not sharing these embarrassing facts with a childhood idol for cheap laughs, Ron.  Nor is this a humble unburdening -- a confession of my most shameful basketball blasphemy.  The point here is to demonstrate that, like many other Celtic fans, I gave up on Paul Pierce before (despite the fact that he has long held the title of my Favorite Celtic Ever).

Like other Celtic fans, I've soaked in 14 seasons of exhilarating highs -- and more than a few rough lows -- with Paul Pierce.  On a team full of fan favorites, it's what continues to make Paul the most special to the Garden faithful: We've been on a 14-year roller coaster ride together.  And, contrary to my stated belief in 2005 that "at this point in his career, what you see in Paul Pierce is probably all you're ever going to get," Celtic fans have watched no. 34 get better with age.

Paul's penchant for 1-on-1 hoops that used to irritate me endlessly, for example, was harnessed within the team concept under Doc Rivers' tutelage before his Big Three partners-in-crime arrived in town, and it really flourished after their arrival.  Over the years, Paul learned, among other things, how to pick his spots with the best of 'em.

In game 5, Paul picked a helluva spot, against the best of the best of 'em -- and it was a moment of pure, unfiltered bliss.  Of an electric player-fan connection.  We'd seen this before, and we waited in breathless excitement as it unfolded again.  Watch the play in slow motion and read the fear in the MVP's eyes, and across his oversized furrowed brow.  He'd seen this before, too.

Dribble, dribble, dribble, dribble... Releaseeeee...... And, swish.

We may not have beat LeBron and the Heat in the end, but the Truth's three pointer in the closing minute of that last Celtic victory of the season could have made the season, in and of itself.

One of the best advertising campaigns in league history touted the simple slogan, "I love this game."  Well, the 2012 Celtics may not have been one of the best in league (or franchise) history, but still, we loved this team.

Talk soon, Ron.  Hope you have a good summer on the links.

Your pal,

Dave

"We know the truth, not only by reason, but also by the heart."
-- Blaise Pascal