Date: February 14, 1986

Location: Boston Garden

Final Score: Boston Celtics 120, Portland Trail Blazers 119

Context: Regular Season

Larry Bird’s “left-hand game” isn’t remembered because he announced it. It’s remembered because he did it, because it worked, and because it felt so unmistakably like him.

On a February night in 1986, Bird decided he would play most of the game using his left hand — not as a gimmick, not as a joke, but as a quiet challenge to both himself and the opponent standing across from him. By the end of the night, he had produced one of the most casually dominant performances of his career.

The backstory — why Bird played left-handed

The Celtics were in the middle of a grueling stretch, and a nationally anticipated matchup against the Los Angeles Lakers loomed the following night. During warmups and early possessions, Bird mentioned to teammates that he planned to rely heavily on his left hand.

“I’m saving my right hand for the Lakers.”

It was classic Bird — equal parts confidence, humor, and challenge. But once the game started, it became clear he wasn’t exaggerating. He finished with his left. He passed with his left. He even took jumpers with his left when the moment called for it.

Where Bird was in his career

By the 1985–86 season, Larry Bird was already a two-time MVP and the reigning Finals MVP. This Celtics team was historically deep, disciplined, and ruthless. Bird was not chasing validation. He was operating from total command.

That context matters. This wasn’t a young star experimenting. This was a fully formed all-time great demonstrating that his understanding of the game could override convention.

First quarter — establishing control

Bird began the game in rhythm. Early on, Portland defended him conventionally, expecting the usual blend of shooting, post work, and passing.

Instead, Bird attacked off his left hand repeatedly — driving into the lane, using his body to shield defenders, and finishing with soft touch. The Celtics didn’t force the offense through him, but whenever a possession needed structure, Bird was there.

Second quarter — the realization sets in

As the game moved into the second quarter, Portland began to understand what was happening. Bird wasn’t favoring his left because he had to — he was doing it because he could.

Defenders tried to shade him back to his right. Bird countered by passing with his left hand, finding cutters and shooters without breaking stride.

Boston maintained offensive balance, but Bird’s fingerprints were everywhere: extra passes, perfectly timed rebounds, and finishes that looked routine despite being executed with his non-dominant hand.

Third quarter — the game tightens

Portland stayed close. The Trail Blazers didn’t fold, and the game developed into a back-and-forth contest. That only amplified Bird’s presence.

In the third quarter, Bird mixed in mid-range jumpers and post touches, still leaning heavily on his left. The crowd began reacting to the audacity — not loudly, but knowingly. This was mastery being put on display.

Fourth quarter — finishing without switching

The final quarter was where Bird’s choice became unavoidable. With the score tight and the outcome undecided, there was no practical reason to continue limiting himself.

He did anyway.

Bird scored, rebounded, and facilitated down the stretch using his left hand, closing out a one-point win without ever “needing” to abandon the experiment.

Larry Bird’s final stat line

Points: 47

Rebounds: 14

Assists: 11

Field Goals: 10-for-21 (left handed)

Free Throws: 5-for-5

The triple-double mattered. The efficiency mattered. But what mattered most was that none of it looked forced.

Why Bird was able to pull it off

Bird’s game was never built on speed or vertical explosion. It was built on angles, anticipation, footwork, and touch.

Playing left-handed didn’t remove his strengths — it highlighted them. He understood spacing so deeply that the hand he used became secondary to where he arrived on the floor.

Defenders weren’t being beaten by trickery. They were being beaten by timing.

How it impacted the Celtics

The Celtics never lost flow. If anything, Bird’s comfort elevated everyone else. Teammates cut harder, passed quicker, and trusted that the ball would arrive exactly where it needed to be.

Boston didn’t win because of novelty. They won because their best player could remove half his toolbox and still control the game.

Date: March 24, 2017

Location: TD Garden, Boston

Final Score: Boston Celtics 130, Phoenix Suns 120

Context: Regular Season

Devin Booker’s 70-point night in Boston is remembered for two things at once: the sheer volume of scoring, and the strange, unforgettable reality that it came in a loss. That combination is part of what made it so startling. A 20-year-old guard, on a rebuilding team, walked into one of the league’s most historic buildings and authored a scoring performance that belonged to a different era.

The Celtics won the game. But the night belongs to Booker — a second-year player who was still being introduced to casual fans, who suddenly forced the league to treat him like something inevitable.

Where Booker was in his career at the time

Booker entered the NBA in 2015 as the 13th pick, known primarily as a shooter. By his second season, Phoenix had begun handing him the keys as a primary creator — not just a spacer, but a featured offensive engine.

The 2016–17 Suns were young, shorthanded, and far from playoff contention. That matters because the environment around Booker was not built to protect him with veteran stability. He was learning in public — carrying usage, seeing double teams, and trying to generate offense for lineups that often had limited scoring around him.

That’s why the 70 wasn’t just “a hot night.” It was a snapshot of a player’s ceiling cracking into the open.

What was working — and why the scoring felt effortless

Booker didn’t score 70 with one move. He scored 70 because Boston had to guard every part of his game, and once the night got rolling, Phoenix leaned fully into letting him read the floor.

1) Three-level scoring: Booker mixed pull-up jumpers, drives, midrange rhythm shots, and spot-up threes.

2) Foul pressure: When defenders got close, he turned contact into free throws. His scoring rate ballooned at the line.

3) Endurance and volume: He played nearly the entire game and carried the offense possession after possession.

4) Late-game urgency: Once Phoenix saw history was possible, the Suns ran offense to keep him involved constantly.

The final blueprint reads simple: score early enough to build rhythm, stay aggressive through Boston’s lead, then pour it on when the pace and urgency increase in the second half.

First quarter — Boston’s control, Booker’s early probing

The Celtics set the tone immediately. Boston scored 29 in the opening quarter while Phoenix managed 16. The Suns were behind early, and the game’s initial shape looked like a mismatch — playoff-bound team at home versus a young roster on the road.

Booker, though, was already establishing the areas he wanted. He wasn’t forcing chaos. He was taking the first clean shots he saw, getting downhill when lanes opened, and beginning the long work of turning a blowout game into a scoring opportunity.

Second quarter — Boston’s 3-point burst creates the mountain

The second quarter is where the game almost ends — and where Booker’s night begins to take a different form. Boston erupted for 37 points in the period, hitting a wave of threes and stretching the lead as high as 26.

Phoenix scored 27 in the quarter, but the Suns were still chasing. The Celtics’ spacing and pace put Phoenix in rotation constantly, and Isaiah Thomas controlled the tempo the way elite lead guards do when they sense a game can be buried.

At halftime, Booker had 19 points. That matters because the legend of “70” can make it sound like he was at 40 early. He wasn’t. It was a steady first half — and then a historic second.

Third quarter — the takeover begins

Booker came out of halftime like a player determined to make the scoreboard listen. He scored 23 points in the third quarter alone, turning the game from “Boston coasting” into “Boston paying attention again.”

This is where his scoring became layered. When defenders played him high, he drove into contact. When they backed up, he rose into jumpers. When help arrived late, he lived at the free-throw line.

Phoenix outscored Boston 37–31 in the third. The Celtics were still ahead, but the margin had been wounded — and Booker had entered the rare zone where every touch feels like it can become points.

Fourth quarter — 28 points, and the building changes

Booker scored 28 points in the fourth quarter. That is the heart of the story. This is where the night stops being “great game” and becomes “history.”

Phoenix fed him almost every time down the floor. The Suns used late timeouts to draw up touches, extend possessions, and keep him involved. It created a strange, highly visible chase: Boston trying to win, Phoenix trying to win too — but also trying to complete something bigger.

The Celtics, to their credit, didn’t stop competing. They kept answering with shot-making and free throws, keeping separation just wide enough to prevent Phoenix from stealing the game outright.

Yet the most memorable detail from the closing minutes wasn’t tactical. It was the sound inside TD Garden. As Booker climbed past 60 and then pushed toward 70, some Boston fans began cheering the scoring itself — recognizing that the opponent was delivering something that doesn’t happen often enough to pretend you didn’t see it.

Booker’s final stat line

Points: 70

Minutes: 44:58

Field Goals: 21-for-40

3-Pointers: 4-for-11

Free Throws: 24-for-26

Rebounds: 8

Assists: 6

Steals: 3

Blocks: 1

Turnovers: 5

The stat line tells you the structure: high-volume shot-making, heavy free-throw production, and enough playmaking to punish traps. It also tells you the workload: nearly 45 minutes with the offense orbiting him.

How Booker impacted the Suns in the game

Phoenix’s offense was built around Booker’s gravity. When he heated up, Boston’s defense had to tilt toward him — bringing extra attention above the arc, sending help into the lane, and closing harder on his pull-ups.

That attention created two things for the Suns: cleaner looks for teammates and a way to stay emotionally alive in a game where they had every reason to fold. The Suns didn’t win, but they kept competing because Booker gave the game a heartbeat.

Even the way Phoenix played late reflected his impact: the urgency to extend the game, the intentional fouling, the timeouts to manufacture touches — it all existed because everyone on the floor understood that something rare was unfolding.

What made it historic — and why it’s still debated

The night became a cultural moment for two reasons at once. First: 70 points is an exclusive number in NBA history, regardless of context. Second: the late-game approach was openly designed to maximize Booker’s chances to reach it.

Some saw that as uncomfortable. Others saw it as honest — a rebuilding team choosing to celebrate its brightest young star in real time. Either way, it made the moment impossible to ignore. You couldn’t pretend it was a normal “career high.” It was a franchise choosing to mark a night as special while it was still happening.

The Celtics won 130–120. But the game is remembered as Booker’s because it revealed a truth the league would spend years confirming: Devin Booker wasn’t just a scorer. He was a future offense by himself.

Date: April 2, 2019

Location: Chesapeake Energy Arena, Oklahoma City

Final Score: Oklahoma City Thunder 119, Los Angeles Lakers 103

Context: Regular Season

On April 2, 2019, Russell Westbrook authored one of the most emotionally charged stat lines in NBA history. It wasn’t built for record books or debate segments. It was built for someone else.

Westbrook finished the night with 20 points, 20 rebounds, and 21 assists — the first 20–20–20 game in the NBA since Wilt Chamberlain in 1968. But the numbers were secondary. This game was a tribute, a release, and a rare moment where grief and competition collided in real time.

What was happening before the game

One day earlier, the basketball world was shaken by the death of Nipsey Hussle, who was fatally shot in Los Angeles on March 31, 2019. The loss hit Westbrook personally. Nipsey was not just a public figure to him — he was family.

Westbrook grew up in Los Angeles. Nipsey did too. Their bond wasn’t built on celebrity proximity but on shared roots, shared neighborhoods, and shared values. Nipsey often spoke publicly about Westbrook’s loyalty, discipline, and authenticity. Westbrook, in turn, viewed Nipsey as a voice of leadership and purpose far beyond music.

Hours before tipoff, Westbrook posted a message dedicating the game to Nipsey Hussle. It wasn’t cryptic. It was direct. He wrote that he would play for him.

The emotional weight Westbrook carried

Players often say they “play heavy” when something personal follows them onto the floor. This night, it showed. Westbrook was visibly emotional throughout warmups and early stretches of the game. Teammates later said he was quieter than usual — locked in, but carrying something.

What made the performance different wasn’t aggression alone. It was patience. Westbrook didn’t hunt shots. He hunted impact.

First quarter — setting the tone

From the opening possession, Westbrook was intent on controlling the game’s flow. He pushed the ball, found shooters, and attacked the glass immediately. He recorded multiple assists in the first few minutes, signaling what kind of night this would be.

Oklahoma City played fast but organized. Paul George scored efficiently early, while Steven Adams benefited from Westbrook’s pressure collapsing the defense.

Second quarter — the rebounding becomes intentional

By the second quarter, it became clear Westbrook was tracking more than the score. He crashed the defensive glass relentlessly, often outmuscling larger players to secure rebounds and immediately ignite the break.

His assists weren’t flashy-only passes. They were early hit-aheads, quick reads to cutters, and deliberate possessions where he slowed the game just enough to let teammates finish.

Third quarter — control without forcing

Oklahoma City began to pull away in the third quarter. Westbrook continued to prioritize playmaking and rebounding, scoring when the defense allowed it rather than forcing the issue.

By the end of the quarter, he was already flirting with a historic stat line — but he never chased it. The rhythm came naturally because he never left the game.

Fourth quarter — when the arena realized what was happening

As the fourth quarter unfolded, the crowd began to understand what they were witnessing. Each rebound drew louder reactions. Each assist was tracked.

When Westbrook secured his 20th rebound and later delivered his 20th assist, the arena erupted — not with celebration, but recognition. Teammates on the bench stood immediately.

Westbrook later confirmed that he knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t chasing history for himself. He was fulfilling a promise he made earlier that day.

Russell Westbrook’s final stat line

Points: 20

Rebounds: 20

Assists: 21

Field Goals: 8-for-23

Free Throws: 3-for-6

It was not an efficient shooting night. It wasn’t supposed to be. The performance was about volume of influence, not shooting percentage.

How he impacted the Thunder beyond the numbers

Westbrook dictated pace for all 48 minutes. Every major Thunder run began with his rebound or his pass. He placed teammates in rhythm rather than demanding they adjust to him.

The Lakers were never able to control transition defense because Westbrook never allowed them to set. Even made baskets became opportunities for him to reset tempo.

The meaning of 20–20–20

Historically, the stat line is rare. Emotionally, it was singular. Westbrook said after the game that the number “20” represented Nipsey.

It was intentional. It was personal.

The game became something larger than basketball — a reminder that players do not leave their lives at the arena doors. Sometimes, they bring them onto the floor and let the game carry the weight.

Why this game endures

Years later, this performance is still cited not because of debate or analytics, but because of context. The numbers mattered because of why they existed.

Russell Westbrook didn’t just play through emotion that night. He transformed it into structure, discipline, and purpose.

The 20–20–20 game remains one of the clearest examples of basketball serving as expression — not escape, but tribute.