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Last Shot For 'Sheed

Alright, Rasheed, here you go. The playoffs start tonight, which means, according to everything we've read/heard/digested, you're supposed to start applying yourself on the basketball court. The Celtics signed you with the idea in mind that you would help them compete for another championship and so far, you have all but failed to do so. If there were no playoffs and the season ended today, practically every fan would want you out of here. I know that doesn't mean a whole lot to you because you supposedly don't care what the fans think about you. That's fine. You know what? We don't care that you don't care. This isn't about personal feelings and our player-to-fan relationship. This is about results. This is about living up to expectations. This is about performing. This is about winning.

Our disappointment does not stem from some unnecessary extracurricular activity you engaged in. There were no known incidents of bar fights, or passes at women, or unruly behavior involving drugs or alcohol. There was none of that. Our disappointment simply stems from the fact that you have vastly underachieved this entire season and are, at this point in time, doing nothing more than eating up valuable salary cap space.

But, starting tonight, all of that's going to change, right? You're all about the playoffs, aren't you? You're finally going to make a positive impact and help this team win some games, correct? Because that means checking into the game, giving whoever you're replacing a supportive high-five, and getting down to business. It means demanding the ball down low and unleashing your still vastly deep arsenal of lethal post/in-between moves that are all but unstoppable when you want them to be; it means limiting the three-pointers; it means boxing out your man and using your seven-foot frame to secure much needed rebounds; it means, above all, bending your knees and playing some good old-fashioned defense. Do you think you can handle that?

Your 82-game vacation is over. It's time to get up from the lounge chair and get to work. This is your last chance to prove to us that signing you this past offseason was not the worst basketball decision of the Danny Ainge era. This is your last chance to make us bite our tongues and eat our words. This is your last chance to re-invent the lazy reputation you not only acquired, but refused to repudiate. This is your chance to pull a Han Solo - by returning when we thought you were long gone - and help us blow up the Death Star (win a championship). This is your chance to win us back over, despite that not mattering to you. So fine, don't do it for us. And don't do it for the praise you'll receive in the press for finally asserting yourself. Do it for the simple fact that you playing the way you're capable of playing will help the Boston Celtics win a championship. Because, ultimately, that's all that matters.