People in and around the NBA know that you can't call yourself a great team until you have a Larry O'Brien Trophy planted in your front yard. If the current edition of the Boston Celtics is not yet eligible, they're certainly hanging around the neighborhood. They've disposed of the Milwaukee Bucks, who planted their own trophy only a season ago.

The Bucks have their own undeniably magnificent player in Giannis Antetokounmpo, who uses the perfect combination of brute strength and finesse to work his will on the opposition. But a single player, no matter how accomplished he may be, cannot hold off an entire team, especially if that team is really good. Make no mistake about it, these Celtics are really good. When Giannis inexplicably lost his shooting touch in the second half of Game Seven, the Bucks had no one to pick up the slack and they were unable to keep the game close down the stretch. Would it have been any different if Khris Middleton had not missed the entire series with a left MCL sprain? We'll never know.

The Celtics, of course, have their own superstar in Jayson Tatum, who, in addition to being able to explode for points at any time, has become adept at finding teammates with hot hands and getting the ball to them. In Game Seven, it was Grant Williams who had the hot hand, and Tatum and his mates kept finding Williams behind the three-point line with devastating results. In an earlier game, it had been the veteran Al Horford who had been feeling it and who got the ball when it counted most.

The Bucks entered the series as the defending NBA champions but the Celtics were clearly the superior team. They won three out of the last four that were played and would have won them all if Boston had not taken its foot off the gas pedal at the tail end of Game Five and allowed Milwaukee to steal it.

For all their offensive heroics they won it through defense. Shades of Bill Russell, who would have been the best player in the league even if he had never scored a point. He forced opposing teams to alter shots and change their entire offensive schemes, putting them at a distinct disadvantage. If this current edition of the Celtics cannot be called the Sons of Bill Russell, they can accurately be called his grandsons.

To think that they emerged unannounced from the bowels of the National Basketball Association is mind boggling. No one, absolutely no one, saw this coming at the halfway mark of the season. They had some excellent young players but had no apparent chemistry. They were floating around the middle of the pack, playing at or below five-hundred basketball when things suddenly, almost magically, began to click. Overnight, it seemed, they became the best team in the league.

Jayson Tatum became a full-fledged superstar, distributing the ball when appropriate and taking shots himself when the occasion demanded. He was always, of course, supremely talented, but now he made his teammates better, too.

On the bench was coach Ime Udoka, a rookie, but someone who had spent his playing career in the NBA and who had served for 10 years as a top-level assistant coach. He had developed a keen understanding of how things worked and was ready -- we all hoped -- to pass it on to others.

The coach's demeanor on the bench, or standing in front of it, is different from most others in his fraternity. Most of the others usually have the veins in their necks popping out as they react to the tension of the moment or protest an official's call, but not Udoka. He remains calm even when the building, be it home or away, is total bedlam. He never loses command of either himself or the situation. His is a reassuring presence.

When Larry Bird took over as coach of the Indiana Pacers, he vowed to limit his tour of duty to just three years. He explained that it was his experience that players stopped listening to coaches at that point. Certainly, it was true in the case of his first mentor, the bombastic Bill Fitch, and to a lesser extent, his successor, the low key K. C. Jones. Bird was true to his word and walked away from coaching after three seasons, although he'd been a great success at it, bringing the Pacers, if not to a championship, at least to the very upper echelons of the NBA.

There are exceptions to Bird's three-year-rule. Red Auerbach, Pat Riley, and Phil Jackson all long outlasted it, but all were master psychologists who had the advantage of having truly great players to coach. It is way too premature to put Ime Udoka in their category, but it's kind of fun to think about.

The Celtics so far in these playoffs have swept the Brooklyn Nets and have in the process shown Kevin Durant to be an aging superstar who is no longer capable of performing the same magic he once did. They exposed Kyrie Irving as someone who either won't or can't make a team any better than it was before they got him. They even wore down the seemingly indestructible Giannis Antetokounmpo. There are still hurdles to clear and obstacles in their way, but they could be headed for the Larry O'Brien Trophy.

Get the front yard ready.



- Dick Flavin is a New York Times bestselling author; the Boston Red Sox "Poet Laureate" and The Pilot's recently minted Sports' columnist.