I’ll say it outright: I’m a Laker fan.
For any Laker fan, there is nothing greater than seeing the Celtics lose. So, when my dad spontaneously got us tickets to see Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals, it was pretty much a dream come true. That game meant just a little more to me, though, because I’m not just any Laker fan.
Yes, I’m from Los Angeles. Yes, trading pretty much only Kwame Brown for Pau Gasol probably wasn’t a fair deal. And yes, I do think The Decision was one of the most arrogant hours of television I’ve ever seen. I know it’s easy to be a fan of two-time defending champs. I’m not just jumping on the purple and gold bandwagon, though. Prove it, you say?
I watched Game 5 of the 2004 NBA Finals. In fact, that’s the first Laker game I truly remember setting aside the time to watch.
Sure, I remember pounding my desk in excitement when Derek Fisher sank the legendary game-winner over Manu Ginobili with 0.4 seconds left against the Spurs two rounds earlier. And somewhere in my head there’s a vision of Robert Horry’s right-place-right-time three-pointer over the Kings in 2002. But this 2004 team stacked with future Hall of Famers was supposed to win it all, so I set aside time in my busy eleven-year-old schedule to see them defy all odds against the Pistons and begin their comeback from being down 3-1 in the Finals.
“I don’t think it’s gonna happen, Kim,” my dad said.
I remember it vividly, watching as the clock ran out on Game 5, on the Finals, on the Lakers. The final score read 100-87, the trophy was raised in Detroit, and things promptly began falling apart in Los Angeles.
Phil Jackson, the coach with the best winning percentage in NBA history? Fired. Shaquille O’Neal, the most dominant center in the game? Traded. Kobe Bryant, the incredible talent whose game was tainted by his selfish reputation? Angry.
Years of disappointment on Figueroa followed. The Lakers missed the playoffs in the 2004-05 season, posting a losing record of 34-48. With Phil Jackson back in 2005, they finished a respectable 45-37 and faced the Phoenix Suns in the first round of the playoffs. Against all odds, they jumped out to a 3-1 series lead, sending my thirteen-year-old heart into a purple and gold frenzy. They were going to pull off the upset! The Lakers were back!
Or not. The Lakers lost Game 6 in overtime and were dismantled in Game 7.
The next season, the Lakers made the playoffs and, once again, faced the Suns. The prospect of redemption was intoxicating: the Lakers were going to get their revenge.
Or not. They didn’t put up much of a fight, falling in five games.
How does Kobe Bryant, a superstar in his prime, react to three seasons of utter disappointment? Not well.
That day in the summer of 2007, Kobe Bryant demanded a trade from the Lakers and my heart stopped. He couldn’t leave, could he? For the Clippers? Kobe wouldn’t do that, right?
Well, he didn’t. And after some more tradetalk, the real breakthrough came in February 2008. ¡Bienvenidos, Pau Gasol! The heist even made Kobe crack a smile when speaking with reporters and set off a chain of three straight appearances in the NBA Finals.
Which brings me to Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals versus the Boston Celtics. The 2010 Finals had every storyline you could want: history, redemption, repeat.
After the Lakers won Game 6 to tie the series at three games each, I jokingly texted my dad, “You should get tickets to game 7!” To my surprise, he replied, “Already on it.” After some searching and negotiating, it was official: My early birthday present was a trip to Game 7 with my dad.
We got to the Staples Center early, taking in the championship atmosphere. We booed at anything in green (even a hapless World Cup fan) and each bought new jerseys to cheer in. We were ready for the historic victory in our hometown over our hated rivals.
Which made it comically depressing when the Lakers found themselves trailing by 13 points in the third quarter. This couldn’t be a repeat of 2004. “I don’t know, Kim,” said my dad, an eerie repeat of that final game in Detroit.
It wasn’t. Derek Fisher sank a three-pointer to tie the game at 64, and I jumped up and down and cheered. He did it again! The buzzer sounded, and the crowd went crazy. This time, it was the Lakers raising the trophy in front of their fans, with Kobe Bryant donning a championship hat and screaming in ecstasy to the crowd.
What made that victory just a little bit sweeter was knowing I had missed the first threepeat, instead watching years of mediocrity before I got to this point. For a Laker fan, nothing beats a Game 7 Finals win over the Boston Celtics. The glitz of such a performance could attract many a new fan. But I know this 2010 championship meant just a little bit more to me, because my true fanhood began with a crushing loss six years prior.