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Back in the corridor, the door to the visitors’ locker room opened, and out came Celtics security director Phil Lynch, followed by Garnett. He shook a couple of hands, started right, then retreated to his left to greet Kevin McNamara, a security guard who has had a long presence in this building. Garnett then started toward the entrance at the opposite end of where he had taken the court for 12 seasons with the Timberwolves. He was dressed in a pea coat, jeans, sneakers and a white shirt with a silver tie.
There were three reporters and a TV crew waiting a few yards down the corridor. The group included Steve Aschburner, the former Minneapolis Star Tribune sportswriter who covered the Wolves during Garnett’s entire run.
“How you doing, Steve?” said Garnett, offering a knock of his left fist.
There were no other greetings, and then Garnett followed a path under the stands. There were a couple of dozen fans behind a barrier and they started shouting, “All right, KG,” and other hoots that alerted the crowd that the Wolves’ one and only superstar was on the way.
“It’s not the same without you,” boomed a voice from behind the barrier.
Garnett gave a slight wave of his right hand, and then he was through the opening in the stands, and in view of the masses, and everyone was on their feet roaring, shouting KG this and KG that all the way to the rafters.
He walked only 10-15 feet onto the court, under the basket in front of the visitors’ bench. The roar kept coming, and so did the waves of KG’s right hand, and soon there was a smile — not huge, like he could offer in victory — but more of the satisfied variety.
It was a satisfaction that seemed to say, “These folks do appreciate what I gave them for 12 years on this court.”
He gave a little bow to show his appreciation in return, and then he nodded toward his escort. Just like that, KG was headed back to the tunnel.
Again, he advanced quickly, and then retreated, this time to give a pat on the shoulder to Felipe Patterson, another security guard. The happiness that Felipe felt at this recognition almost broke his face and then he blurted: “That’s my man.”
This time, Leah Olson, a courtside reporter for Fox Sports North, was waiting outside the visitors’ locker room with a cameraman. “What’s up?” said KG, and then he was through the door and into the Celtics locker room.
Olson talked to her producer for a time, and it was agreed there would be no quick interview before tipoff, so the FSN crew headed off to follow the actual game.
Garnett was not in attendance at Friday’s shootaround. He declined an attempt to get him to conduct a brief media session an hour or so before the game. And at halftime, Celtics media director Jeff Twiss said, “He said he doesn’t want to do any media, even after the game.”
Garnett missed his sixth consecutive game on Friday because of a pulled stomach muscle. He originally suffered the injury in the Celtics’ 87-86 escape of the Wolves on Jan. 25 in Boston.
He stole the ball from Sebastian Telfair to seal the victory, and hasn’t played since.
Johnny Kundla, now 91 and the coach when the Lakers were winning NBA championships in Minneapolis, was watching the game at home. A reporter called to ask for his view of Garnett.
“I was surprised that the crowd was that loud for him,” he said. “There’s no question about his ability, but there were times when I didn’t think he was much of a teammate.”
How about the flippant manner in which this generation of journalists refers to Garnett as the greatest pro basketball player in Minnesota history?
“No . . . he was never a Mikan,” Kundla said. “George Mikan is still our Mr. Basketball. He brought the big leagues to the Twin Cities. And he brought championships.”
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