With 5:31 left in the second quarter of Monday night’s clash against the New Orleans Pelicans, Saddiq Bey barreled into Payton Pritchard and whipped a pass to Jordan Poole. Josh Minott—making his first career NBA start—snatched it out of the air like it was gift-wrapped.
The 6-foot-8 wing took off. Poole and rookie Jeremiah Fears gave chase, but they peeled off at the far three-point line. Minott had a runway. He rose, cocked back a two-handed hammer… and flushed it.
Then he kept going.
Momentum yanked him past the rim. His grip lingered half a second too long—“Like in life, sometimes you just gotta let go,” he’d joke later—and he crashed to the floor in a heap. The Boston bench went from eruption to silence. Assistant Tony Dobbins half-stood. Hugo Gonzalez froze with his hands on his head.
This was the kind of fall that ends nights. Or seasons.
Minott popped up like the hardwood was a trampoline. No limp. No grimace. He sprinted back on defense, nearly poked another steal, then bodied DeAndre Jordan for a rebound after Bey’s missed triple.
Alive and kicking.
The Dunk Wasn’t the Story. The Fall Was.
“I just wanted to make sure it went in,” Minott said postgame. “Game like this? Must-win. Couldn’t brick the dunk.”
He didn’t just finish the play—he refused to let it finish him.
And that’s exactly what Joe Mazzulla demands.
“He doesn’t have a choice,” the Celtics coach deadpanned. “You get hurt, you’re not playing ever again.”
Harsh? Sure. But this isn’t your feel-good rehab program. This is Boston 2.0—built on a foundation of next-man-up, no-excuses grit.
- Luka Garza takes a head shot in the opener? Mazzulla screams, “Get up!”
- Jayson Tatum tweaks a wrist in the Orlando series? Same yell across the court: “Get up!”
No coddling. Legit injuries—like Tatum’s Achilles, Jaylen Brown’s hamstring, or Garza’s concussion—get proper care. But anything short of that? You rise. Or you ride the pine.
Minott didn’t need the scream. He already knew the script.
“He had the right attitude,” Mazzulla said. “Got up, nearly got a deflection… We’ve gotten better physically, but mentally? Those plays show it.”
One Play, One Identity
It was just one dunk. One fall. One pop-up.
But in a season where nothing’s gone according to plan, Josh Minott’s crash-and-burn resilience became the perfect snapshot of what Mazzulla’s chasing.
“You just have to stay hungry,” the coach said. “Keep chipping away at the identity we need to create. Josh has bought in. All our guys have. We just gotta keep it up.”
The Celtics didn’t just survive a no-name’s monster jam—they weaponized the moment.
And if that fall didn’t rattle them? Good luck finding something that will.