This was a championship for a Lost Generation of Boston Celtics fans.
These are people for whom Bill Russell, the greatest winner in American team sports, and Bob Cousy, the legendary "Houdini of the Hardwood," are like figures out of King Arthur's tales. These are people for whom John Havlicek, basketball's consummate 'sixth man," and Dave Cowens, the mercurial redheaded center, are as personally relevant as comic book characters. These are people for whom even the great Larry Bird is just some guy wearing short-shorts who pops up occasionally on ESPN Classic.
These are the people who were too young to mourn fallen soldiers Reggie Lewis and Len Bias. These are the people who do not think hard-bodied young women gyrating in the interests of Celtics Green is a sacrilege. These are people who could not imagine entering an arena that did not have a Jumbotron and music and fireworks and who could not possibly imagine that, once upon a time, a portly organist named John Kiley stirred the Boston Garden crowd by playing the "Mexican Hat Dance."
