FanPost

reliving a Lakers nightmare on this holiday

One year.

One full, long and lonely year. That’s how long we had waited for the rematch. One year since the Showtime Lakers had turned to mashed potatoes before my very eyes. One year since the one who always made the right plays had made all the wrong plays. Close my eyes and I can still see the banners in the rafters, haunting the Lakers. Most of those banners had come at their expense. I can still see James Worthy floating that pass to Gerald Henderson in Game 2. I can still see Magic letting the clock run out. I can still see both usually reliable stars choke away Game 4 from the free throw line. I can still see Kareem with an oxygen mask stuck to his face in the sauna that was the Garden in Game 5. I can still see Magic piss away any last chance of a Game 7 comeback with two critical 4th quarter turnovers. I can still see the parquet being engulfed in a sea of green while the losing Lakers tried unsuccessfully to disappear into summer.

One year. We would get them. This time we would.

I was a senior in high school in 1985; the only Lakers fan at San Leandro High. I had endured endless teasing in 1984. This would be our redemption: mine, Magic's, the entire Lakers organization. I watched the first half of Game 1 at Chris Maselli’s house. My best friend. He hated the Lakers as much as I hated the Celtics. Somehow we remained friends. That friendship was soon to be tested.

One half. That is all it took for one year to come undone.

The Celtics led 79-49. Chris talked so much shit that I walked home at the break. When I got there, the third quarter had begun. My brother John was watching from the couch. I joined him. We watched in silence. The whole damn thing. When it was over the gloating Celtics had claimed a 148-114 romp. Little did I know that they would only win one more time in the series. But that day was all Celtics. They call it the Memorial Day Massacre.

That’s being kind.