Kevin Garnett is no different than many elite professionals. There may be a little diva in his soul.

If you've seen the Celtics star's pre-game routine or talked to his teammates, you realize it is all about methodology, a balance between ritual and spontaneity.

He may be more well-balanced than ever, perhaps anticipating that something special is possible.

Nearly all his statistics this year are down from his career averages. Yet he could be playing the best basketball of his life, including his NBA MVP season of 2003-04 with Minnesota.

That will happen, the stiltish 6-foot-11 forward says, when you're awash in talent like that in Boston, where he was traded last summer.

"Any time you have help is always a plus," Garnett said after the Celtics pummeled the Hawks 96-77 in Game 2 of their first-round Eastern Conference playoff series. "Because of my past experiences, I am totally grateful for this opportunity that I have now."

The Celtics lead the best-of-seven series, 2-0. The series switches to Atlanta for Games 3 and 4 on Saturday and Monday at Philips Arena.

Garnett's 13-year NBA career has been draped in individual glory, but other than a trip to the Western Conference finals in 2004, when the T-Wolves lost to the L.A. Lakers, not so much team success.

With the league's best record (66-16), the Celts have a shot at changing that.

He may have sensed as much soon after Boston general manager Danny Ainge traded Al Jefferson, Gerald Green, Ryan Gomes, Theo Ratliff, Sebastian Telfair and two future first-round draft choices to Minnesota for him in the biggest NBA trade ever for one player.

Boston coach Doc Rivers was ecstatic about getting Garnett, a six-time All-NBA player and eight-time All-Star. He also got 12-year veteran guard Ray Allen, another frequent All-Star traded to the Celtics last offseason. The Celtics already had All-Star forward Paul Pierce.

Rivers wasn't positive it would work like clockwork, but he quickly became an optimist after chatting up his big three.

"I told them, 'You've won everything else, but you've never been a winner," Rivers said. "We have a saying, 'Success is stuff that you have, excellence is being something you have to be.' That's all I talked about. To a man, it was easy. Kevin, to me, really understood."

Garnett's name comes up in MVP conversations, though his numbers may not be overwhelming enough for him to edge out the Lakers' Kobe Bryant, New Orleans' Chris Paul or Cleveland's LeBron James.

He averaged 18.8 points after averaging 20.8 or more in nine straight previous seasons, and 9.2 rebounds after averaging 12-plus in the previous six seasons. This was the first season in 10 years that he didn't average a double-double.

Yet he made a career-high 53.9 percent of his shots, and his 1.94 turnovers per game were the fewest since his rookie season of '95-'96 when he played a career-low in minutes.

Nobody in the NBA stuffs a stat sheet like Garnett, even though he's averaging more than six fewer minutes per game (33).

He made his first 3-pointer of the season Wednesday, and once, when the shot clock was winding down and the Hawks appeared to have him trapped high on the right elbow, he whipped a pass to the teammate furthest away.

Allen then drained a 3-pointer from the deep left corner.

Bottom line, the "Big Ticket's" greatest values may be in the way he picks up his teammates with words of encouragement, and by quarterbacking the NBA's best defense.

He was named the NBA defensive player of the year Tuesday. Rivers said Garnett has, "changed our culture defensively," and that he's a better team defender than he is one-on-one.

"He does erase a lot of mistakes you make defensively because of what he does as far as talking and being able to guard the perimeter as well as the guys down low," Pierce said. "He just anchors our defense. He controls the paint, blocks shots, a lot of things that don't show up in the stat sheet, with his talking.

"I knew that we would mesh, but I'm probably a little surprised at how quickly we meshed."

Garnett, 31, has methods aplenty.

Just before a game tips off, he faces a goal stanchion from mere inches while tying the drawstring of his shorts with enough conviction to convince you that he believes it to be the most important thing he'll do.

Then, he'll peek around the stanchion into the crowd before going to the scorer's table to pour powder on his hands and — Poof! — slap them together in a cloud.

A little diva.