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Was the Celtics’ 1984 comeback title run over the Lakers more historic than the Red Sox’ march to their first World Series since 1918?

Denver Post hockey writer Adrian Dater, a New England native, thinks so, and he tells the story of how he followed Game 7 that fateful night in today’s Avalanche mailbag – proposing the idea that the Avs could face off against former star Peter Forsberg in the NHL playoffs and relating the possibility to how he might have felt had Larry Bird played against the Celtics.

Here’s how big a fan I was then, and how superstitious: On the night of Game 7, I was slated to go over to my buddy Paul Carl’s apartment, on Mascoma Lake, Enfield, N.H. On the way over in my folks’ blue VW bug, I got too nerved out to actually think about walking in there and watching the game. Paul was a good fan, but not like I was. I sweated out every loose ball, screamed over every foul, cried out like the defendants in the Sacco and Venzetti case over every call that went against the C’s.

I worried that I’d be in too much of an “Oh well, it’s not whether you win or lose” kind of crowd for the game. I worried I’d make a jackass out of myself, in other words. This was Athens vs. Sparta – nothing less. It was heart-attack serious, and I couldn’t risk things going wrong by being around some half-hearted fans who would click on a Tom Petty cassette tape if they lost and say, “Oh well, crack me open a Bud Light.”

So, in the parking lot of the apartment building, I decided to just sit in the car, in the dark, and try to will on the Celts with some quiet prayer. Any serious fans of any team out there know they’ve done this; you really do say something like, “Lord, listen, I know you’re busy. I mean, I know you’ve got some bigger things on your plate right now. But could you just maybe see to it that, well, that maybe my team could win this one game?”

You know you’ve done it.

Here’s the thing about that night, in that parking lot: I didn’t want to start attracting some unwanted attention by sitting there in a VW Bug at 10 at night, in a dimly lit lot. Some woman with kids might notice me and think I was Ted Bundy and call the cops. So, here’s what I did: I climbed in the back seat of the Bug and laid down. Do you know what it’s like as a 6-foot-5 person to scrunch in the backseat of a Volkswagen Bug – let alone for more than an hour? Now I know there’s a reason why I had back surgery 10 years ago.
I laid down against those hard, cold, plastic seats and started in on my prayer, knowing that Paul and Co. were inside, wondering where the heck I was. I couldn’t resist the temptation of turning on the car radio every 10 minutes or so and getting a score update, from Johnny Most – the late Celtics announcer and the most unbiased play-by-play man of all time.

Sure, we’ve all done it. Not sure about THAT but “it,” at least.