ELVIS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

The end was like the beginning and like places in-between; a season of sections and distractions, of poetry and hero stances and the flipping of a switch that had grown old and unreliable.  A month ago I wrote, "there's been three four-game skids now and we're all just rolling the dice that it doesn't happen in a seven game series." And so the season coughed and sputtered and spun on its haunches before settling down to die, looking at us one last time, asking if it was okay to go now.  It was.

Danny Chau penned a piece that likened the end to a melting sun. Darius Soriano wrote about disappointment turning to reflection. Brian Kamenetzky invoked Japanese monster movies while brother Andy pointed out the lack of nuance in a lopsided loss. And, Dexter Fishmore described a low point in Lakers’ history. Different takes on a difficult subject, sharing the commonality of good writing. I am indebted to them and so many others, for keeping me entertained and sated over the course of a topsy-turvy season.

Somewhere in a box of photos is one of my daughter, around age 7, sitting and smiling on the couch in an over-sized Lakers yellow giveaway t-shirt. She’d watch games with me back then, awestruck at the spectacle of Shaq dunking. These days she’ll pass by and pretend interest for a few moments before heading upstairs to watch "Gossip Girl".  Lily will be heading off to college in the fall. A generation has grown up during the team's Phil Jackson years.

He was a native son of the northern plains with Pentecostal ministers for parents. A counter-culture icon who remained relevant long after others faded away.  His impact on the game has been enormous and even in this last numbing defeat, he is asked whether he might still come back. We need to let him go. He gave everything to the game and deserves his time in the Montana woods.  Let him write another fine book. Let him hobble down to his lake and sit a spell. Old lion.

I thought I’d feel worse after such a bitter loss but I didn’t. I felt gratitude for the long, chaotic ride.  I remembered the good and the bad, the championships and the losses. It ended on a low but largely, we feasted.  After the game ended, I read the various recaps, opinions and comments and while some made me smile or reflect, others were venomous and left a unwanted film. That’s okay. The range of expression is as it should be.

There had been such frustration by the time Phil first arrived, a long stretch of not quite getting there. And here we are two stints later, separated by the Rudy T experiment and a book that feels prescient today. We won't see an era like this again, any time soon. It was an unlikely blending of characters and egos, talent and conflict, greatness, desire and sometimes apathy - "the switch" would become a household phrase and we had the great luxury of accepting habits that would have doomed other teams - instead our titles came fast and furious. I wouldn't change the decade for anything. 

Those who’ve read this journal before know that I’m not much on analysis. There will be future entries I’m sure, about the roster, the direction and the draft. There’s basketball still to be played, a champion yet to be crowned and unfortunately, the dark specter of a work stoppage. As Jim Morrison once wrote, "the future’s uncertain and the end is always near."

THIS IS THE END

It’s easy to fall into the trap of repetitive behavior and there are certainly good and necessary patterns - the duplication of basketball fundamentals enables ingrained muscle memory as an example. Getting torched by pick-and-roll represents a less seemly side of Lakers tradition.  Beyond anything resembling actual X’s and O’s however, lies larger and widely discussed behavioral patterns - the most oft-repeated being the turning of a switch and the second being laziness (to use a over-simplification).

Repetitive behavior of course, is hardly limited to sports or any other specific actions - eating, laughter, war, discussions of weather and lazy literary devices such as self-indulgent inclusions of old-dog stories, are only the tip of a fast-melting iceberg. The day will come when there is no basketball to be played, a dying generation will survey the ruin of earth and look backwards, asking "why?"

More astute observers than I, are able to pinpoint basketball actions that led to Sunday afternoon’s defeat, or, a certain malaise in general. C.A.Clark at SS&R makes the point that Pau Gasol’s skill and grace do not equal willingness. Phillip Barnett at FB&G focuses closely on Chris Paul’s brilliant game. Andy Kamenetsky at the LOL examines the effect of Steve Blake’s absence on the second unit.  And, Lisa Dillman at the LAT looks at the X-factor of the Hornets’ undersized Cal Landry.

There was a wonderful on-court interview with Lamar Odom after the recent Spurs game, sweat was coming down in sheets and he spoke about pride and ego and the dangers of complacency.  Then came Sunday and he pulled another one of those on-court disappearing acts.  In truth, it’s not about any one Laker, apart from Kobe - he being possessed of a killer instinct that’s only betrayed these days by a deteriorating body. The real issue is whether the team comes together collectively, whether they can all take it on their shoulders.

I doubt there’s been a game this season that will be singularly remembered in future years. Nothing on the level of Fisher’s 0.4 rainbow or Kobe’s 81 points or the 4^th quarter rally against Portland in the 2000 western finals. There will however, be an erratic pattern and season on whole, that will be vividly remembered - this being Phil’s last.  If we somehow win another championship, the legacy will be of a maddingly inconsistent team that reached beyond the demands and ravages of so many long and challenging seasons.

Beware the talk of triangle mysteries, of adjustments and stats, of big men manning the paint.  Beware the analysts and experts - there’s only one true thing that’s gotten us here, time and again. The Switch.  Scoffed at, cursed and dismissed - it’s real.  It’s been riding shotgun for the past 10 years and we need to accept its presence now, we need to throw it because we’re in too deep.

How many times can you hurl your aging body against a door, how long will dead legs carry you?  The young lions are coming fast and furious, it’s their league now.  The real reason for an upcoming lockout? Corporate wants to kill off the old superstars.  Believe it. There’s younger, faster, cheaper models now.  Regardless of how long the old guard remains, they’re gone.  It’s the age of expressionless perfection. There’s one last stand though, and it’s now. Throw the switch, lever it into position and lock it - this is the path we’ve chosen. If we don’t win it all this time, it’ll be because we didn’t embrace the end.  Close with a song.