Cousy, Russell, the Celtics, and What Really Matters in the End

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     My father died on June 3rd. This Saturday, November 3rd, it will it will be five months.
     There are predictable ways in which his passing is top of mind. First and foremost are family gatherings where his presence is missed. There are the Armenian events of which the Armenian Youth Federation Olympics held every year over the Labor Day Weekend is the prime example. Certainly, as we are in the height of the college football season, I think of the commentary he would have been making in every game I watch. While he was a great track coach, I think he might have also been a great football coach. I pass by family photos every day in which he is well represented. I see these photos and his passing is again front and center or shall we say a bit more front and center. There are no surprises, just the gentle easing of grief as time passes by. He, my sisters, and grandparents who have all passed are always on my mind.
     Earlier this week, I had a different kind of reminder, an unexpected, maybe even surprising reminder of his passing. I was listening to National Public Radio during my morning commute.  They were featuring a recently published book, The Last Pass: Cousy, Russell, the Celtics, and What Matters in the End by Gary M. Pomerantz. The book, per the title, is about these two stalwarts of the great Celtic teams of the 50’s and 60’s that won 11 NBA titles. But, it had a twist. The focus of the book was how racism did and didn’t define the relationship of Cousy and Russell.  It is written from Cousy's perspective as Russell just doesn't speak to the press these days.  From NPR, “They became teammates in 1957, just after Martin Luther King Jr.'s Montgomery bus boycott, and would play together through turbulent times of the civil rights movement — in Boston, a city roiled by bigotry.” It is basically a Cousy confessional ot how he could have been a better and more supportive friend to his teammate.
     Well… I thought to buy the book, but not for me. I thought quite naturally, “I will get it for dad, he will enjoy reading it.” I am not sure the Bob Cousy or Ted Williams had a bigger fan than my Boston born and bred father. Needless to say, the moment I thought that pleasant thought, I had the surprising and stark realization that those days were gone. It caught me off guard. I would not be buying anymore gifts for my dad. I was reminded in an unexpected way that he was gone.
     I am not sure, given his condition these past few years, if dad would have even been able to read the book. As it is about Cousy and Russell, he might have no matter how long it took. Also, I am not sure how he would have reacted to the racism theme of the book but then again it was about his beloved Celtics, so it is hard to tell. Bottom line, I would have bought him the book.
     I may, however, read the book on his behalf and no doubt hear his ongoing commentary in my head while I do.