"Everything happens for a reason." We have all heard it. Your world may be crumbling around you, with all hope abandoned. Worst-case scenarios are continually trumping themselves, only to be chased with something even suckier. House burnt down? Car wrecked? Dogs and cats living together?It's ok...everything happens for a reason. Is it a cop-out? An excuse? Well, probably. But there's nothing you can do about it...the sequence of events are already in place. Truth be told, if you hear those five words, you would probably give up your firstborn to be anywhere else than your current situation.

But sometimes, and only very rarely, those five words describe everything falling into place. The yang to the horrible yin. A justification of sorts, said with a smirk, as if you knew the plan. You were privy. Everything was going to go right all along.

And so, the Lakers and the Celtics are meeting in the NBA Finals. Because, well...you know.

* * *

For the last year, I have been a Laker fan living in Boston. Fifteen, twenty years ago, that was unacceptable. There was visible hatred, eggs on your porch steps and sugar in your gas tank. Recently, though, not so much. For the last year, when my Laker pride came up in conversation, it was met with a nostalgic air. A nod, and a smile. Oh yeah? Yeah. And always a pause, as the legacy of these two historic franchises passes silently before our eyes.

And that was that. We move on. Like all good eras, that one ended, so that we may have a nice, distanced look at it.

Good times. Good times. But that was long ago.

This year, the Lakers were an emotional rollercoaster. To look back one year is to see a team in disarray, a disenfranchised leader, an egomaniac coach and a lack of direction. Accusations were made, and fingers pointed. What originally seemed to be a team self-imploding, we soon found, was actually a franchise demanding more of itself.

And if you scan the player activity wires, an eerie progression begins:

In July, Derek Fisher convenes with his family and decides to take his daughter, stricken with eye cancer, to the best doctors money can buy. They happen to work in Los Angeles. And Derek Fisher happens to be the only remaining player in the league that Kobe has trust and respect for. Derek brings leadership and floor discipline, both of which were lacking. And besides, it’s good to have Mr. .4 back.

Then, head case Brian Cook, a 6'10" spot-up shooter (and sadly nothing more) and the Invisible Man Reggie Evans are shipped out for Trevor Ariza, a young athletic defender that can actually match up against Kobe in practice (a huge no-story earlier this season). Trevor provided another fast-break finisher and a rest for Kobe on the defensive end.

Then, the biggest blessing: Kwame Brown goes down to injury, leaving Andrew Bynum, the only center still breathing, to be trained on the fly and force-fed minutes (something he desperately needed the past two seasons). Bynum provides an interior presence, to the tune of 2 blocks, 13 points, and 10 boards a game on 60% shooting. The Lakers evolve into a longer, more talented Warriors team with better D.

January: Bynum goes down with a dislocated meniscus, which serves as the cattle prod to Mitch Kupcheck's rear end. And, in a move reminiscent of the Lakers stealing the draft rights to James Worthy from the Cavaliers in 1982, Mitch gets Pau Gasol off the Grizzlies for, well, pocket lint.

For a Laker fan, that would be considered a domino effect of ecstasy. An avalanche of yum.

A first-class ticket to the town of Yes, Indeedy.

And now, here we are. It all seems to make sense, doesn't it?

* * *

But lo, sayeth the Celtics fan, what could be crazier than our ride?
It is a tale of a town, once noble and proud in their perpetual state of basketball supremacy, that has since been beaten and left for dead for 20 years. Long ago were the days of hanging banners, earning rings, and routinely beating the living snot out of everyone else.

It was as if the arrogant, brooding Boston basketball fans never even existed.

But though the Boston revival was less of a warming trend and more of a monsoon, the sequence of events followed a similar pattern:

Paul Pierce, the disillusioned leader of a hapless and spineless team, rests the final 25 games of the season with various “injuries” and ponders his options. To add insult, their tanked season nets them the #5 pick, proving that you can, in fact, lose at losing. Boston fans everywhere attempt to talk themselves into Yi Jianlian, a Chinese Medvedenko, destined to be a backup power forward for the rest of his life.

Thankfully, this awakens Danny Ainge from his coma, and rather than lose his darling Pierce, he turns the #5 pick and a handful of dollar chips into Ray Allen. And, in an effort to hedge his bets, he cons his old running crew Kevin McHale into giving the Celtics a Hall of Famer for a 20-and-8 franchise hood ornament. (No offence, Al Jefferson. And people say the Grizzlies were conned? Pau ain't no Hall of Famer.) Add a shady deal to acquire Roswell Cassell and "Good For 6 Fouls" PJ Brown, and you have a championship-caliber team.

Yes, Kevin Garnett revolutionized Boston Garden. His energy lit a fire under Boston sports fans, a crew who had nearly given up on basketball. The life-altering changes he brought in any other year would have brought him the MVP easily.

You can nearly see Red’s ghost smiling, a divine intervention.

* * *

So, here we are. At the crossroads. Everything that occurs from this point on will be spoken about, written about, and fawned over. History will be made. Every move analyzed. Be the victor the Lakers or the Celtics, there will be but one hero. A rivalry reborn.

Everything happened for a reason.