Despite injuries, fires still burns for Garnett

Rage, rage against the dying of the light, Dylan Thomas wrote, and for nearly 60 years since then, sportswriters have applied that refrain to athletes nearing the end of their playing days. Because, y'know, it's so poetic. And it does seem to capture much of what happens as the gusts of time cause that competitive flame to flicker.

In Kevin Garnett's case, though, there's nothing wrong with his light. Burns as fierce and strong as ever. It's his lantern that isn't in very good shape.

Kevin C. Cox/NBAE via Getty Images

To see Garnett at age 33, his right leg sheathed in a black support sleeve from kneecap to ankle, his gait noticeably slowed and flattened from what it had been only a couple years ago, is to see and feel with each stride most of the 40,861 minutes he already has logged in regular season games, along with 3,162 more in All-Star and postseason play. He isn't exactly High Priest Imhotep out on the hardwood, dragging the leg Mummy-style, but if you isolate on the Boston Celtics' 7-foot forward, you will see him hop every so often to keep up. Or slide. Or otherwise cut a corner or find an angle that gets him where he wants to be without the explosiveness he once took for granted.

Such blithe unconcern is a thing of the past for Garnett now, driven home by recent tongue-wagging plays in which first Orlando's Rashard Lewis, then New Jersey journeyman Kris Humphries took him off the dribble to score. This, remember, is the 2008 Defensive Player of the Year, a freak-of-nature defender with a pterodactyl reach who used to be comfortable checking point guards as slippery-quick as Steve Nash. Kris Humphries? Really?

Then there was Sunday's All-Star Game, in which Garnett started for the Eastern Conference but played just 12 minutes 43 seconds, the shortest stint among the game's 10 starters. He finished with four points, three rebounds, two assists and his usual helping of fun, but it was the briefest of his 12 All-Star appearances. And a shadow of his 37 points, nine rebounds and 41 minutes in the 2003 game in Atlanta, when he earned the MVP.

Sure, it was a veteran's prerogative -- West counterpart Tim Duncan logged only 13:07 -- and a nod toward Toronto young'un Chris Bosh (23 points, 10 rebounds in 29:08). "I'm great, man,'' Garnett said afterward. "I told Stan [Van Gundy, East coach], because it's Chris Bosh, you know he's from Dallas, let him play the bulk of the minutes.''

By that point, late Sunday at Cowboys Stadium, the pressure to be a star among stars had lifted. And the pressure to be a star among his fellow Boston Celtics, for a hardcore push to the playoffs and ideally through the Finals, had not yet descended. But as All-Star Weekend began, we got a glimpse of the attention being paid to Garnett's physical condition.

"Heh heh, this what the basis of All-Star Weekend is going to be like here?'' Garnett said when asked about his leg moments after sitting down with reporters on Friday. He was smiling, but his eyes burned bright because he had known this was coming. "I'm good, man. When you get little things, new revelations come into your mind that make you stronger. ... Understanding not only my body but conserving my legs.''

Rationing or milking what's left, frankly. Garnett already ranks 22nd in career minutes played, 53rd in lifetime NBA appearances and 27th in minutes per game (37.3). He was bound to get to this point sooner or later, and for the guys who skipped college (and its only 30 games or so per season) entirely, simple math suggested it would be sooner.

This sentence appeared in an Associated Press account Tuesday about Lakers star Kobe Bryant missing his fourth consecutive game with a sprained left ankle, in a season in which Bryant also has dealt with a fractured finger and lower back pain: "The next game will be his 1,000th during the regular season and make him the youngest player in NBA history to reach that milestone. That record is held by Boston's Kevin Garnett.''

Coincidence? Certainly not. Athletic careers are more like car leases than car rentals -- no one gets unlimited miles.

And in a weekend when injury-cheated Hall of Famer Bill Walton can talk movingly about Portland's latest hobbled center, young Greg Oden, you can pull for Garnett to play free and easy again soon. But this is a guy who avoided any significant injuries and missed only a handful of games in the first 13 of his 15 seasons, 12 ridiculously resilient ones in Minnesota followed by that dream championship year in Boston.

Garnett's aching knee -- he hyperextended it in late December and was shut down by coach Doc Rivers for 10 games -- shows up these days mostly at one end of the court, which is the problem. Without him at full strength, Boston's defense suffers. Without their defense as a game-changer, the Celtics really aren't the Celtics we've known for most of the past 2 1/2 seasons. Their 23-5 start this season is less relevant these days than their 10-13 mark since and, even when they've grabbed early leads, the Celtics have been unnervingly catchable and beatable.

It hasn't been just Garnett; heading into Thursday's game against the Lakers at Staples Center, Boston has lost 119 man-games to injuries or illness. Still, understanding the skid is less important than ending it.

"I'm not a storyteller or fortuneteller, but I do know consistency makes up for a lot,'' Garnett said. "We have a sense of urgency. ... With the emergence of our young guys and everybody getting better, there's been some type of adjusting there. But nothing that should knock off our rhythm. But we have had some injuries and different things like that, and that plays into chemistry. No excuses given, none made here. We just have to play better, be more consistent. We definitely have to have better third quarters and second halves. So [the rest of the way] we have goals.''

We, as in he. If we never again see Garnett as the Swiss army knife he was in his prime, able to do this, that and the other thing in ways no 7-footer had, he seems determined to make the transition that some great players -- Jordan, Erving, Robertson -- have made later in their careers (and so many have not). Relying on his wits rather than his knees, experience over athleticism, know-how in place of "Oh my!''

"It's almost like this: When one thing gets taken away, you acquire something else,'' Garnett said. "I'm a lot more patient when it comes to attacking. In my film sessions, when I'm watching by myself, I'm a lot more into detail and footwork and small things, pick-setting. ... Small things that I never have really paid attention to. So though I've probably lost something in one area, or depleted, I've picked it up in other ways.

"I've always told you, since Day 1, I've had a lot of pride in being diverse. I just don't do one thing decent. I work on elements of my game so I'm never a step behind, being one-dimensional. I take a lot of pride in that. ... Sure, I probably can't jump as high. But when it comes to defense, I'm smarter. I'm anticipating the game from another whole aspect of it. That's a revelation. You lose something, you pick something else up.

"I ain't perfect. I'm not a robot. I'm a human being. And I'm a hard worker.''

Garnett, needless to say, will not be going gentle into that good night.

Steve Aschburner has written about the NBA for 25 years. You can e-mail him here.

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