BOSTON — Before the media game began, I marched around the Auerbach Center and told anyone who would listen that the media would win. When Joe Mazzulla entered earshot, he darted his head forward. Earlier, he surprised reporters by announcing that the return of the media game would actually pit us against the coaches, not each other. Until I approached him taking warmup shots an hour after Celtics practice ends, it wasn’t clear whether that included him. It did.
This was the moment I knew we were screwed.
I told Joe we were winning. He said ‘no you aren’t’.’
I said it again and he announced they were full court pressing 😭 pic.twitter.com/ajW5QWCHnh
— Bobby Manning (@RealBobManning) October 15, 2025
And after twice assuring me that we, in fact, would not win, Mazzulla mentioned why and cast the first shade of doubt over my prediction. Mazzulla announced that the coaches would full court pressure the media. He liked the mindset though.
Ball pressure, more than anything else, doomed us on the way to a 57-4 loss to Mazzulla, former Division I stars DJ MacLeay (Bucknell), Amile Jefferson (Duke), Tony Dobbins (Virginia Tech/Richmond), Da’Sean Butler (West Virginia) and Phil Pressey, who played for the Celtics for two seasons. God Shammgod Jr., who played at D-II Fairmont State, had a magnet in the rim and pressed as effectively as anyone. He and the other Celtics’ coaches attacked the ball accurately and aggressively, like a flash of lightning, knocking it out nearly every time the media put the ball on the floor.
A shot attempt, or even crossing half court, felt like an accomplishment. Scoring a single point qualified as our moral victory.
That’s one area where I couldn’t help. Ball-handling ranks atop my weaknesses. But battling on the boards, running in transition and screening wouldn’t work either. The coaches led 7-0 when I entered off the bench. The avalanche mounted quickly.
The beatdown initially frustrated me before the novelty of the moment overtook that. Jaylen Brown looked down overhead, smiling, with Jayson Tatum sitting nearby. Seeing Mazzulla organize his team offensively, dart to the ball defensively and lead a group playing on a string gave another look into the culture he’s built in Boston. What they value. How they prepare. How they bond. If the coaches have ball-hawking down to that level of a science, it’s scary to imagine going against the actual Celtics.
The Jr. Celtics Academy hosted the event, a series of camp, clinics, leagues and tournaments taking place around and even outside of Massachusetts that often involve Celtics players. Their staff organized, officiated and coached the game to promote their cause of “building a future generation of champions and lifelong basketball fans.” Our coach Yorel Hawkins talked me up in huddles, urged ball and body movement, along with some off-ball screening as we grew stagnant. Normally during pick-up games, I don’t feel too tired. But Brad Stevens, who also watched above the gym, reminded me later that the NBA court spans 94 feet, adding to the exhaustion of the game’s pace. When he came downstairs, he wanted to make sure everyone escaped unscathed. That proved mostly true.
Regardless of strategy, you can see where things went wrong in the clips. Dribblers crashed to the floor trying to split two defenders. Others got stuck along the sidelines. Wherever we went, two defenders flashed, and it reached a point where you couldn’t even think before someone stripped you. Late in the shot clock, after reaching the block, I lost track of the shot clock, received a bump from the head coach and couldn’t turn to shoot before 24 seconds ran out. We could’ve benefited from another foul call or two, but we knew what we were getting into there.
After Dobbins sent me to the floor on a play that actually drew a call, I tossed Kayla Burton a bounce pass on the ensuing in-bounds on the play that perfectly encapsulated the carnage. Shammgod poked the ball loose from her, she crashed to the ground and Dobbins recovered it, tossing the ball to Shammgod on the break, who threw it off the glass for Jefferson to slam down. 12-0.
The bodies pounding to the floor, ball bouncing off glass and crashing through the rim alongside groans from the sideline and the timeout shout by Hawkins resembled sound effects from a cartoon. This thing was comical. Noa Dalzell, who predicted she’d score 0 points going into the game, a different outlook than I entered with, just smiled walking off the floor into the huddle, as did Brown from the window he watched out of.
Butler and Shammgod ballooned the lead to 28-0 before we scored on a 2-on-1 fast break where Rich LeMay hit Bobby Krivitsky. Our second basket came when the Globe’s big man Khari Thompson cleaned up Noa’s missed three. We needed to simply take more shots, looking back on it. Calm down, make a quick pass, but that’s all easy to say now.
Shammgod pulled up from half court to end the game, 57-4, with a splash at the buzzer.
And the coaches left frustrated they didn’t pull off the shutout.
Brown shouted down from his perch, asking if anyone wanted to do a post-game interview.
The blowout did provide some bonding. A reminder of how good these former Division I players and pros still are. And we all love basketball, so getting an up-front glance at an NBA machine in action taught us some enjoyable, however painful, lessons. Mazzulla and I chatted afterward about the importance of that turnover battle and getting a shot attempt off. For all our battles at the podium and times where we’ve frustrated each other, which might’ve showed in a few plays on the floor, it’s hard not to feel some mutual respect in that environment and it’s been enlightening to learn more about the game through him and others on the staff.
I never played any competitive basketball growing up, so this felt like the Super Bowl. There’s always been so much joy in me getting out there, playing hard, running the floor and getting better at my weaknesses — pretty much everything else. After stepping into a three to start the second half in the following game, Mazzulla gave me a shout, acknowledging it from the sideline where he sat and joked once the coaches retired for the day.
The media split into teams and played a pair of 12-minute halves that ended with a last-second possession for the other team. Ahead 23-22, we stopped a transition layup attempt, split four free throws as Jack Simone hauled in offense rebounds from the line on his misses, then, up three, Mazzulla snuck a few more seconds on the shot clock after awarding a timeout they didn’t have. We got the stop anyway, but Matt Reynolds, Mazzulla and Mike Zarren admonished us for not fouling ahead by three. If Boston didn’t do that and lost the lead, they argued, we’d be all over it. I was worried about fouling.
Then, the texts and messages poured in. A Raptors assistant at shootaround inside TD Garden the following morning asked if I played in the game. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
We’re at the Auerbach often. I’ve thought about what it would be like to put a shot up, never mind play a game against the Celtics’ coaches. Sometimes, we take sports coverage a little too seriously, when we all got into it over how much we love this game, and in some cases, how much we loved this team growing up. And for an hour or two before we return to what can sometimes become tense relationships while riding the highs-and-lows of a season. We just had some fun.
“This is what we can bond over,” Mazzulla said, patting me on the chest.
