Coffee House Bastard

The Great Deception...the 2010/2011 Lakers.

On your average day, the Coffee House Bastard might be griping about the trials and tribulations of 'making it' as a writer/director, lamenting on coffee house protocal, or blabbering on about bizarre tales and celebrity encounters while living in Paradise...but today, I must speak out about one thing and one thing only...The Los Angeles Lakers.

Growing up, it was extremely difficult for me to be a tride-and-true Los Angeles Lakers fan, but I was.  You see, I spent the first eight years of my life living in Trenton, New Jersey. On the weekends, the games on television usually consisted of the Lakers or the Celtics playing a rival team.  Yes, the 76ers were on from time to time, as were the Knicks, but I lived in Trenton and Trenton had no team, so I was a Lakers fan. 

As a child, I could not get enough of those cool-ass purple and gold uniforms. Kareem's goggles. Magic's 'magic.'  So, by the time I was eight and moved to the City of Brotherly Love, I was permanently stamped as a 'traitor,' 'frontrunner,' 'a$$hole,' and many other fun tags.  When I finally moved to Los Angeles nine years ago, a childhood dream was fulfilled.  I was a true-blue Lakers fan living in Los Angeles. I bought my purple and gold car flag. Drove by the old Forum about fifty times. Cheered at sports bars with like-minded fans, and stood witness to three Championship parades (missed the one in 2001).

Kobe. Shaq. Horry. Fisher. Gasol. Odom. Harper.  The Great Lakers of the New Millennium.  Yeah, they had their quirks.  In-fighting.  And at times, liked to make things a bit harder upon themselves then need be.  But, when it mattered most and a Championship was on the line, we always found ourselves a Hero.  Whether it was Robert Horry's 3-point killshot that pierced so many hearts.  A Derek Fisher floater in Utah.  A Kobe Bryant fall-away jumper.  Or a Shaq-slam-sandwich.  Those Lakers always, always, got it done (except for 2003 when they got all those SuperHeroes and Superman got mad at Robin). 

They got it done because they believed in themselves more than their opponent did.  They got it done because they believed they could never die. They got it done because they knew inside beat the heart of a Champion.

The last two years of watching the post-Shaq Lakers win Championships has been equally fantastic.  We've been so spoiled.  So much drama, so much doubt, but in the end, our Lakers always proved to be Champions because they had Heros.  Each game, a different one.  Lamar.  Pau.  Ron-Ron.  Sasha.  As much as it pained us all to watch these Lakers at times, they always found a way to win.  The will to win.  The heart to win. 

This year, there was no heart.  There was no win.  There were no Heroes.  And for the life of me, I really don't know why.  Yes, the Lakers looked out of sorts several times during the season, but then they flipped 'the switch,' went on a 17-1 run, and then smashed down Dallas in a regular season showdown where we saw both Barnes and Blake in a coming-out party.  It looked as if we had found our new Heros going into the post-season.  Blake.  Brown.  Bynum.  Barnes.  The Lakers were firing on all cylinders and the power of Phil was in full effect.

Then, something happened.  A few weeks before the playoffs, we lost our mojo.  Our confidence seemingly chipping away game after game, but we all continued to believe 'it's okay, they'll just turn the switch.'  The Switch never came.  Neither did our Hero.  Everyone looked tired.  Bored.  Like they had forgotten how to play basketball.  Like someone had misplaced the Triangle.  Like they were unable to see the two seven-footers standing by the basket most of the game.

I have no idea what happened to my Lakers over these last few weeks, but I do know this...these are not my Lakers.  Like any good X-Files episode, something alien must had taken them over. My Lakers would never have sent off the greatest coach of our generation with such an embarrassing effort for his final goodbye.  My Lakers would have never played with such little heart, honor, or care.  The Andrew Bynum and Lamar Odom I knew were sportsmen, not punks.  The Pau Gasol I knew was a crafty competitor, not a lost boy who had given up before the series began...and by-the-way, if that's what you call playing basketball, Pau, go be a doctor already.

Phil did not deserve this.  We did not deserve this.  Every day, millions of Angelenos put their hearts and souls into their work, their families, into the things they believe in, including rooting for our beloved Lakers.  I can take a loss.  Hell, yeah, it hurts, but as long as you lose with some dignity.  You went down swinging.  You hung in there like Rocky Balboa until the last bell.  But, these Lakers...these Lakers I do not know.  And Phil, you deserved better.  We all saw your post-game smile, but also knew what was lying beneath it.  Shame on you, Lakers.  Shame on you.