"Revenge is a dish best served cold." Contemporary humans have come to accept that statement, famously first uttered by somebody at some point in the past, as indisputable wisdom. (There's some disagreement on who said it first, which is why the past was dumb and living in the future rules, because now we have comment sections where people can note that they were first so that everyone knows. Sit on it, The Iron Age.)
As such, contemporary humans have no choice but to view Glen Davis'(notes) refusal Thursday night to acknowledge and reciprocate the high-five request of Kevin Garnett(notes) on the way into the locker room at halftime of the Boston Celtics' preseason matchup against the New Jersey Nets as the greatest vengeance in recent memory.
Because damn, that was cold.
(Not sure why "Big Baby" would look to exact vengeance on the Big Ticket? Quit yer cryin' and find out.)
I love this for two reasons. One: I like jokes, and seeing KG realize he was lingering a bit too long, that Baby wasn't making the connection, and that he needed to abort/move to the finger point/get out of there is straight-up hilarious. Two: It makes Garnett seem just a tiny bit more normal -- relatively speaking, of course, since this is at base a man who will get down on his knees and bark at opposing guards in front of a stadium full of people -- and in my opinion, that's never a bad thing.
While I'm not really into gossip magazines or blogs, I can appreciate the appeal of "They're Just Like Us!" features that leaven stars. It's also partially why I think the celebrity-recontextualizing art of Brandon Bird, especially mind-scorchingly brilliant stuff like "No One Wants to Play Sega with Harrison Ford," is so fascinating. It's not so much about ragging on famous people and knocking them off pedestals; it's more about dispelling whatever mental fog hangs in our own minds that lets us put ‘em up there in the first place.
There's something so humanizing about watching Kevin Garnett -- a man who has earned more than $250 million in salary during his professional basketball career, a transcendent figure who has been a cultural icon for the last 15 years -- look just as lame as any of us have ever looked when screwing up a high-five, even if only for a moment. If he was your friend, you'd bust his chops for this. If it happened to you, your friends would bust yours. But it's a kind of joke normally confined to normal dudes, not impossibly slick titans.
And yet, here's KG, getting left hanging by a drooling, Dougie-ing bench-mobber, live on television. It's a surprise reason to smile in a league that gives us a billion new ones every night.
So, cheers, KG. Thank you for being a friend.
Video courtesy of NBA Musings.