As arena experiences go, a Los Angeles Lakers game at Staples Center is not the most aggressive you can have. Other arenas have brighter lights, louder announcers, and skimpier dancers. Many of the things that define the modern NBA experience had their foundations in LA, due to the brilliant foresight of the late Dr. Jerry Buss. Nowadays, however, lots of places do it bigger than the Lakers do, assuming that bigger equals better. The Lakers know better, and their understated game experience is the perfect combination of taste and class. The Laker Girls remain the gold standard for team dance squads, and I'll take the smooth and soothing tones of Lawrence Tanter over some dude screaming at me Michael Buffer-style any day of the week. But nothing more aptly describes the Laker experience quite like how it (hopefully, usually) ends.
If you've watched enough Lakers games, in person and at home, you know exactly what I'm talking about. I Love LA is one of my favorite songs in the world. Not because I love the lyrics, or the melody, but because the song has an almost Pavlovian response in my brain. I hear it, and I smile. I hear it, and know what it means. It means victory. It means celebration. It means the Lakers have once again won the day. No sound could be sweeter. No song could be more heart-warming. Hearing Randy Newman singing about mountains and bums and women, rattling off streets like he was reading a map, is the most comforting sound a Lakers fan can hear. And the best part of all?
Just how often we get to hear it.
This is a sponsored post.