"Don't think the Los Angeles Lakers will make it. With Yao Ming out and the way they've been struggling with the Houston Rockets, I mean, think about it."
"Think about what? You mean if Yao Ming had not been injured that it would have been an easy victory for the Rockets?"
"Oh, yeah! Can't you tell from the way Rockets are playing, giving the Lakers a run for their money?"
"Well, I think the Lakers are the best in the NBA, and I do not care about what you think on how they play. Look, man, this is Hollywood. It's not easy combining both together. Don't you see Jack Nicholson, Denzel Washington, Will Smith, Stephen Spielberg, Ron Howard, Jammie Foxx, and all the heavyweights in da hood cheering for a Lakers victory?"
That's how it flowed even though I have not been paying much attention to the NBA Finals. Every now and then, I tend to check it out even when I'm making some noise tweeting with my fellow tweeters out there who've got nothing else to do but tweet, tell the whole world about their problems and brag about it all day, and then talk about Hollywood driving Angelenos nuts. No biggie!
Yes, Lakers is tweeting and tweeting is Lakers. They tweet about Kobe Bryant for not carrying the game on his shoulders. They tweet about Derek Fisher being worn out ... "couldn't do a damn thing to save the Lakers," even when Andrew Bynum had problems defending Denver Nugget's Nene. Lakers have raised their fans' blood pressure since the semi-finals of the Western Conference. Mine has been going up and down, reason why I've not been watching the games as I'm suppose to. Sometimes I make calls to ask "what's the score?" If Lakers happen to be behind, I won't even bother turning on the television, that is, if I'm home.
I had called my brother and talked about the Lakers. This was Game 5 of the Western Conference semi-finals between Lakers and the Houston Rockets. My brother had predicted Lakers will be beaten by the Denver Nuggets, that is, if they clear the Rockets hurdle. I had called my childhood buddy, Teddy, and we spoke about it. He wasn't sure. I had called my friend and partner in crime, Basil Nwonwu, and he had persistently said "it's Lakers all the way. This is their year and no team can stop them." I stopped going to pubs where Lakers had been the subject-matter even though I still had faith my Lakers will come out smoking, eventually.
But somehow, I got sickened of the dream Kobe Bryant-Lebron James showdown. The sensationalized media had blown everything out of proportion. The hype had been overwhelmingly disturbing it became obvious a deal had been struck. Those Bryant-James inflated commercials. It's a set up.
No, it wasn't. It's the magic of Orlando Magics. Call it what you want. It's magic not darkness. It's the magic of power play. It's the magic of outplaying and outscoring the Cavaliers. The magic that has befallen Madison Avenue. The magic that dethroned the overrated king. It's the magic of Dwight Howard. The magic of Mickael Pietrus. The magic of Rashard Lewis and the standing ovations of Tiger Woods and Tim Teblow of the Florida Gators quarterback that did it.
King james, another season gone by; no ring, it's winding down.
I had wondered if Lakers will ever make it. The struggle. The injuries. The inconsistencies. The uncertainties. Denver Nuggets: Chauncey Billups. Carmello Anthony. Lakers made it.
There's been talks about the powerful kingdom. James Kingdom. The Cleveland Cavaliers and King James Castle in Ohio. The best record in the NBA. The team to beat. And there was magic not kingdom. And the magic worked. And the king was toppled.
I had diverted my attention regarding the NBA Playoffs. The Lakers had caused me a "heart attack." It's not fair. They had done it to me deliberately, and I had wondered why they would do that. I'd rather watch other sports than the Lakers. They have made my heart bleed. It's not fair and I'm losing my mind. How could that be?
I had gone to the Irish Pub in Santa Monica to watch the European Champions League Final between Barcelona and Manchester United just to erase the Lakers from my memory. Yes, I watched Lionel Messi and his Barcelonaian boys whoop the robust playing Manchester United in a duel three Barcelona fans were slain in Nigeria, immediately upon Man. U defeat. I had gunned for Barcelona. Messi is my man. He's fast. He's taken soccer to another level. Now, Man. U. beer on tap drinking fans wants me dead for following Messi. Again, it's not fair. But who cares. I'm only worried about my Lakers and the showdown. They have the Magics not the Kingdom.
Kobe has been compared to Michael Jordan, Dr. J and Bill Russell. It doesn't matter. We are talking about NBA Finals in the year of Our Lord 2009, and I want it over with before I suffer another "heart attack." I'm not saying Orlando Magic will be a walkover. It's the NBA Finals, remember? It's anybody's game, remember?
So Kobe, my Lakers, please, do not let me suffer another heart attack. I've had enough and I will be there on Thursday, in my neck of the woods, Staples Center, to cheer you up in Game 1 of a 2-3-2 series against the Orlando Magic. We are the victor and don't disappoint me and your million fans who've had a minor stroke ever since the playoffs began.