Rest In Peace, Red

I will always remember your broad smile, your fat cigars, and your cockiness, which you backed up by being one of the greatest coaches in history, in any sport. I grew up following the exploits of your self-selected handiwork -- Bird, McHale, Parish, Ainge, and Johnson -- win championships. And I loved watching you light one up after a big win was in hand. But it wasn't until the Celtics hit the skids in the mid-90s that I learned more about your coaching greatness in the 1950s and 60s, with players like Russell, Cousy, Heinsohn, Sanders, and Jones. I also learned that you were born in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where I now live, that you collected letter openers from all over the world, and you loved Chinese food.

I thought you were too stubborn to die, but I guess it's waiting there for all of us eventually. I hope they allow smoking in heaven, but even if they don't, I have a feeling that you're lighting one up anyway.