THERE'S GONNA BE A SHOWDOWN

Yesterday’s post ended with a wish for the Lakers to find their soul.  The game wasn't all that epic but a satisfying win nonetheless.  It was the first OT of the season, bumpy at times, miscues and silly turnovers but the effort was there - an inside/out game with Gasol and Odom combining for 46 points and 36 boards.  Earlier in the day Mitch said he’d consider a trade.  An almost unheard of admission for a famously cagey GM.  Maybe he meant it, more likely it was sword rattling, but it seemed to get the players' attention.

Kobe spoke with Pau before the game about being more of a black swan than a white one and it’s actually a very sly suggestion.  He’s not asking the Spaniard to be a banger, an enforcer, a lion or a bear, but simply a darker shade of pale; malevolent as opposed to thuggish.  It’s a distinction that probably appeals to Gasol - I’ve always felt that a dark ribbon is embedded somewhere within his psyche.  Just as long as this isn’t some Johnny Weir swan sleeve duality thing. 

Here come the warm Spurs, fresh off a rare loss (Portland) and they won’t be happy about it - Duncan will be watching Pau like a bug-eyed viper, ready to pull the chair out if he tries a Pas de Deux.  The Spurs won by 15 the last time they were here, Duncan didn’t have a good night but everyone else in white did, constant attack mode through their new fastbreak offense - the point, shooting guard and small forward positions are basically interchangeable.  Add 17 points and 15 rebounds from starting center DeJuan Blair and 10 points from fearless rookie George Hill and the game was over, long before it was over.

Andrew Bynum says he wants to play, having sat out the Houston game with a left knee bone-bruise. Phil Jackson is hopeful, the preferred plan would be to go with a mismatch on Blair - conventional wisdom has always held that you can’t teach height.  Then again, you can’t teach six-foot-seven of relentless steamroller either.  If Bynum can’t go, Gasol will slide to the 5 and Odom will make his 33^rd start of the season.   Kobe will look to facilitate early (11 dimes against Houston) and assassinate late.

In other news today, Ron Artest does and does not want to be Mitch Kupchak’s trade toy.  This type of thing often has a galvanizing effect, 24 hours will tell.  It’s an interesting time.  The Spurs bring purpose and stability.  The Lakers bring the Black Swan.  Hello darkness, my old friend.

JUST THE GAME

The summer of signs, trades and realignments, ‘the decision’ that feeds the beast, blogging madness spiraling forever outward, no more the dog days of pouring over actual newsprint for stories and clues, no more exchanging views with a few determined fans who’ve found out about this thing called the internet. No more. It’s a world gone viral and we’re all part and parcel to it, links and hits and spiders and search engines, YouTube this and that and the media blitz gives instant platform to all and the lead-ups grew louder and more breathless until the actual season was at hand with previews and promises for live chats from anyone with a typepad and electricity.

And the games started and I was watching the Celtics beat down the Heat and ponging madly from laptop to making dinner to feeding the animals to notes for my daughter’s essay to blinging out some pendant to be worn around her neck, thanks paint, thanks glitter, thanks self-sticking plastic gems. And the TV beckoned and food was eaten in front of it and questions were asked and I had to tear myself away. And LeBron’s new confessional/commercial came on with his stuttering mantra, "what should I do, what should I do, what should I do?". Go play on the freeway, you idiot.

The ring ceremony's at hand and I'm watching/grinning and talking heads and my poor old laptop, struggling to keep up with box scores and articles and sites and snagging moments for actual work which quickly aborted because it’s opening night after all and there’s chats to visit and comments that want to be typed but the laptop won’t obey, it’s getting overloaded but no, no, you can’t freeze, here’s another one on a favorite site but it’s different this time, they’ve put together some ungodly blog smorgasbord of every known form of media personality and wired the whole thing into every game being played and it’s like some sucking whirlpool of Chayevskyesque magnitude and the laptop says enough and resolutely quits.

And then I notice. There’s a game still on TV. The one I wanted to see. The one I’d been waiting all summer to see. First game of the season and while I’ve had my forehead stuck to a glowing, faltering laptop the team’s gone down by 15 and haven’t found their way back. But now it’s just me and the television, my daughter’s off to bed and some cat that my ex dumped on me is kneading and puncturing couch cushions and making guttural noises. Go away odd animal, you’re a harbinger of bad juju. And the lead starts to shrink. Blake hits a couple back to backs and then UPS turns to Downtown Shannon Brown and he’s on fire, it’s one of those transcendent stretches and everything’s going right and the guys on the bench are up and out of their heads in the celebration of that moment of pure basketball when the crowd becomes a sheet of white noise and all is right with the world.

And it didn’t last perfectly and the Rockets came back and back again but the Lakers crashed the boards and left skin on the floor and played a kind of tough that they didn’t really play until Artest got into their heads and hearts and they won it and once again, it’s like it always was. Another season starts and I’ve seen so many over the decades and I’m transported to moments past which I could type forever but I won’t. Because tonight’s like every night, pounding into morning and the sleeping hours always shrinking. I’m typing this one out quickly and there’s going to be no links, no videos, no endless searching and comparing, no pings or stopping by every last place where I can venture some aside that’s quickly lost to the encroaching monster of the eternal thread. Nope, put this one to bed and do the same myself and try to remember something of the game.  Just the game.