Celtics have a Jayson Tatum problem that could cost them everything

The Boston Celtics have dropped the first two games of their series at home to the Knicks. And their best player has been oddly quiet in the biggest moments.

Here are Jayson Tatum fourth quarter stats for the Boston Celtics’ second round series against the New York Knicks:

I feel the need to say more, but it’s pretty basic analysis. You’d probably get the same thought from any type of outlet you get your coverage from… former players, influencers obsessed with ethical hoops, statty stattersons, whatever happens on TikTok. They’d say the same thing: Jayson Tatum, The Celtics’ star player, has to play better when the game is on the line. This is not the only thing that is costing them, but it has the simplest fix.

Sorry. I’m being mean for no reason. I’ll try to be better.

Just like Jayson Tatum should.

So Jayson. Step up your game, dude. Last year was the Jaylen Brown championship. You need to get yours. Tatum Time.

You know what I mean. Be selfish. Stop the ball. Make sure the team knows, Jaylen especially, that the flow is whatever you say it is. The tempo of the team is whatever track is playing in your head. Hero shots. Hard fouls. You’re Jayson H*cking Tatum. They’re not going to kick you out of the game.

“You’re leaving a stain on the game of basketball,” a reporter might say.

You’ll stand in front of his microphone, Finals MVP trophy in hand, and reply, “I wanted to leave my mark on the NBA. I wanted to be the face, I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to shape the future of the game in the image of mid. But no. You chose Jaylen as Finals MVP last year. You chose Andrew Nembhard this year somehow. A stain?”

At this point, Jayson will pause and look around the crowd for a bit. Still cheering.

Satisfied, he lifts the trophy above his head, screams from deep beneath himself, and sends it crashing to the ground. Pieces shrapnel out.

With that, an outward rush of wind, heavy and hot. Those standing (with the curious exception of Celtics teammates and coaches) are knocked from their feet.

Jayson sees the reporter on the ground next to him. Alive. Tatum pulls him up like he weighs nothing, gets him on his feet, and adjusts like a microphone stand.

Tatum continues: “You’re not getting architecture. You’re not getting a painting. You’re not even getting an autograph. You didn’t want me, but you got me. I was right there all along. So to repeat: what you deserve is a stain.”

Then Jayson Tatum punches the reporter through his face and out the back of his head. He then kind of wiggles his fingers around a bit for fun. Far, far fewer screams from the crowd than one would expect after a scene that gruesome, an event that clear, broadcasted in HD to everyone in the arena and around the world.

The crowd remained oddly silent. Oddly still.

Somewhere among the thousands in attendance, the slowest of slow claps began. It took minutes to reach a real roar, but, well, they could do that. They could be patient. They had time now. When you’re inevitable, sometimes you might take a moment to simply be present with that fact. To go at a comfortable pace toward your destiny. They savored the crescendo, but by the end, every person in attendance was made to have a gravelly voice for the rest of their stupid, stupid lives.

Then the cameras cut to a shot of TD Garden’s ceiling. We got shown the banners up there. You know, the championships ones. The one from last year, 2024 NBA Champions, was there, but there was something next to it. The camera started zooming in on it real quick. I guessed it was an unfurled banner, and in a minute or two I was proven right.

The arena dimmed, and up came a couple of spotlights right on that banner. We watched as the camera slowly zoomed in. I was used to there being like cheering or commentary during this kind of thing, but no. Just the purest, deadliest silence. The banner unfurled.

2025 NBA Champion - Jayson Tatum. Spooky, right? And if this whole thing wasn’t weird enough, the banner was red. None of the Celtics stuff. Just endless amounts of Tatum.

So anyway, Cheryl, the cameras finally pulled away from that banner shot to the hardcam shot — the one they show the game from. Only Jayson was on stage this time, the shards of his MVP trophy surrounding him. All over the place. The lights slowly grow brighter and redder. This really deep loud noise like a whale probably makes started happening. If you were looking closely like I was.

Tatum’s eyes turn red.

Quick camera cut to over Tatum’s left shoulder. Tatum looks at the camera and says his catchphrase. We haven’t come up with it yet.

Screen goes black. “Tatum Time” plays in the background as professional wrestlers reenact the best highlights from the game you just watched.

Credits roll and then due to the costs of the second apron you never get to see what happens in 2026. Oh well.