Acquisition: Bill Walton's signature on Rick Pitino's face

For the same reason I wanted to buy this, my coworker wanted to sell it.

I like Bill Walton -- who doesn't -- but I'm not so big a fan of his that I would normally purchase his autograph.  His playing career was long before my time, and as much as I've enjoyed his distinctive broadcasting work, I don't really collect commentators' signatures.  Plus, Walton is a Hall of Famer, an all-time great; my collection tends to celebrate those players of lesser accomplishment, maybe like Bill's son, Luke (except Luke never could run, or jump, or dribble, or do anything else remotely interesting, so no).

Rick Pitino became head coach of the Celtics when I was about nine years old.  He was the first in a short string of coaches who looked peculiarly similar the team's mascot, and he led the likes of Antoine Walker, Mark Blount, Walter McCarty, Kenny Anderson, and a young Paul Pierce to three and a half losing seasons.  Tough times for Celtics diehards.

Although I grew up in the greater Boston area, I am certainly not a Celtics diehard.  If I had a favorite team when I was young it was the Blazers or the 76ers, but that's only because I was so fond of 'Sheed and AI.  So I suppose that's why I have warm and fuzzy memories of the Pitino era in Boston.  I didn't give a crap that they were losing, I just enjoyed the team for what it was.

The team, for what it was, was totally dysfunctional and kind of hilarious.  Antoine Walker and his tippy-toe threes were the focal point of the offense (and All-Star Weekend).  Walter McCarty and his threes were the focal point of Tommy Heinsohn.  Mark Blount and his remarkable laziness were the focal point of my father's curse words.  Through the eyes of an indifferent 10-year-old, it was a great deal of fun.

Bill Walton's signature came to be on Rick Pitino's face roughly 15 years ago, when my coworker ventured to Boston to get a firsthand look at the future, a rookie by the name of Pierce.  But neither Walton nor Pierce would be the most iconic Celtic in the building that night, as Larry Bird was on hand to coach the opposing Indiana Pacers.  For the sake of making this story as awesome as possible, I'm going to say the game in question is the one in which Pierce and the great Vitaly Potapenko combined for 56 points... although, admittedly, it just as easily could've been the one in which they combined for less than half that many.

Normally, I would look at this program, a mismatch between item and inscription, and feel unmoved.  It's like the basketball card featuring your favorite player and Wally Szczerbiak, or that gorgeous pair of Air Jordans made personally for Jared Jeffries.  It's just not cool.

But this program, I feel, encapsulates Celtics history in a way that is not often presented... in a more complete way, I would say.

Bill Walton's signature represents the most successful of times past, the aura of legend and historical greatness that surrounds the franchise.  Simultaneously, Rick Pitino's likeness reminds us that the Celtic timeline consists of more than just Bill Russell, Larry Bird, victory cigars, and O'Brien Trophies.  It reminds us that, for the better part of the past three decades, it has been forgotten periods of strife, swept aside by a brief renaissance, that have dominated the record.

So I enjoy this item because it has, and also tells, an entire story.  I can look at Bill Walton's signature and appreciate the greatness of Boston basketball, and I can look through the signature to Rick Pitino's face and cherish the memories of my youth -- my precious youth, which, unfortunately, like Bird and McHale and Parrish, is not walking through that door.