I was never very good at making foul shots. And it wasn’t for lack of practice.

In middle school, I would walk up to the school and practice for hours. In high school, I would practice at the hoop in the church parking lot behind our house. I was not a good shooter, from anywhere on the court, but foul shooting seemed to tap into something deeper: my fear of being asked to perform in front of a group of people, my poor aim and overall lack of depth perception. It seemed to call for a skill set I didn’t possess and, it eventually became clear, would never possess.

But I don’t have any sympathy for Kevin Garnett, and his inexplicable failure to make the free throws that would have tied Game 5 in the waning minutes of the fourth quarter. I know what it’s like to choke on the foul line, with what feels like the eyes of the world upon you, but that doesn’t make me any more compassionate. This is because Kevin Garnett happens to be a professional basketball player. And not just any basketball player. One of the best ever, according to the experts. He’s almost 7 feet tall. He’s paid millions of dollars to play basketball. His job entails making foul shots at crucial moments. And not just foul shots. Lay-ups, too, and tip-ins, of which he missed plenty on Sunday night. (How hard is it to tip in the basketball when you’re 7 feet tall?)

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve always had trouble finishing around the basketball, but it might be because I’m 5’3”. When I played basketball, I juggled a busy schedule of newspaper, literary club, band, church youth group, schoolwork and various other wholesome youth activities. The Boston Celtics, on the other hand, are paid to live, eat and breathe basketball. If they have other hobbies, I don’t want to know about them. (Except for Rajon Rondo’s roller-skating. Give me more of that.) On Sunday, Paul Pierce appeared to be dodging sniper fire every time he cut to the basket. He was working hard. Every time he emerged from the scrum in the paint, I half expected his head to be bleeding. If there was a player on the court doing more to sacrifice his body, I don’t know who it was. I can’t deny that Kevin Garnett was working hard — he always does — but he still wasn’t doing his job. I wanted to dock his pay.

Of course, Paul Pierce was far from perfect. I was horribly disappointed when he dribbled the ball off his foot in the final seconds. This careless move, more than anything, summed up how I felt about Game 5. From the opening tip-off, the game had the feel of a tooth being pulled. I don’t think I ever really expected the Celtics to win, because they weren’t really playing well enough to win. And yet I couldn’t stop watching. Every time I opened my mouth to declare the whole thing over, something would happen, like Eddie House would finally make a three, or Sam Cassell would make a three-point play. These moments were exhilarating and exciting, but all too rare. Every time the Celtics got close, the Lakers pulled away. It was downright Sisyphean, and as the final buzzer sounded I felt the boulder come crashing down, again. The game was within grasp, but then it slipped away. Now it’s back to Boston, and hopefully the Celtics can get the job done.

“OK,” my New England Sports Fan Friend said, as we watched this frustrating game unfold. “You have $200 to spend on a Boston Celtics jersey. Which player, and home or away?”

“Away,” I answered immediately. But I hesitated before picking a player. KG or Paul Pierce? Without KG, no NBA finals, and no guarantee of making the playoffs, either. He had transformed the culture of the Celtics. The moment he arrived, they became a contender. “I won’t begrudge you if you don’t pick Paul Pierce,” the Sports Fan Friend said. “Although I would have to throw you out of my house.”

He was right, of course. How could I pick anyone besides Paul Pierce? He had the good sense to make his foul shots, after all.