Yeah, I’ll say it. I’ll proclaim it to anyone who asks. I’ll say it clearly and loudly. To my friends from Los Angeles I’ll especially make a point of saying it; I’ll freely declare it here, just a stone’s throw from L.A.
I hate the Lakers.
But I don’t even know if the banal word “”hate”” can describe my feelings toward those lucrative lackeys of Los Angeles. Loathe comes close when you pronounce it with emphasis and roll the “”l”” up to the top of your mouth with your tongue and really taste the word.
Why do I loathe the Lakers? Ask the two people still reading this column (thanks, Mom and Dad) out of the grand total of four who started reading it (my brother and some hobo using Guardian pages as a blanket). Let me count the ways …
The Lakers have no personality as a team. Look at them: They are just a bunch of mercenaries brought to the City of Angels by the money dribbling from general manager Jerry West’s hands.
They are analogous to the Yankees, in that the team is comprised of talent bought at the highest possible price, which makes for a “”team”” that is simply a squad of solely self-interested individuals.
I don’t see how anyone can root for them. I mean, yeah — obviously they have a bunch of talented individuals, but they are perhaps the laziest players in the NBA. With the amount of collective talent that they possess, they should have blown San Antonio straight out of the playoff waters.
True, on paper the Lakers won the series 4-1. But that doesn’t tell the true story by any means. How many times did the Lakers come from behind? If the five games were ended after the third quarter, the Spurs would be winning the series 3-2. Yet in the fourth quarter, the Lakers would always suddenly look around, realize they could lose and actually start playing to their full potential.
Some may say this is the mark of a good team: being able to respond in the clutch. I don’t think so. Why can’t the team play like that for four whole quarters? Then they wouldn’t even need to have to be able to pull out last-minute victories. I say it’s an even better team that thoroughly dominates their opponents for the whole 46 minutes.
Not only do I despise the Lakers as a team, but as individuals the majority of them manage to piss me off as well.
Kobe Bryant is definitely an athletically gifted individual — whose talent is only surpassed by his ego.
Shaquille O’Neal is pretty much a big ogre who bullies his way to within three feet of the basket, then throws up shot after shot. And hey, it works. But when you start relying more on your size than your ability, can you really be considered an athlete?
Derek Fisher. I hate that little punk. He’s around three feet tall, yet seems to be convinced he is huge. With his tilted headband and his pathetic attempt to look hard on the court, my laughter is only spared in that I can rarely see him — he’s usually hidden behind the normal-sized players.
Back when Rick Fox had those nappy curls I couldn’t understand why Vanessa Williams married him. Now that he’s gotten a decent haircut and actually shaves sometimes, I still don’t see why.
And of course, the biggest sellout of them all is Phil Jackson: Mr. “”I’m-going-to-ride-into-the-sunset-on-my-motorcycle”” after the Bulls’ dynasty ended. He eschewed his zen philosophy and traded it in for a suit and a haircut and a couple million dollars. Hmm, does Jason Giambi come to mind?
My point is thatit’s incomprehensible to me that anyone can root for this motley crew of slackers and sellouts. I realize people from Los Angeles need to root for someone, but they have a perfectly good farm team to watch in the Clippers — they can watch talent develop then jump ship to a team that can actually afford them. But at least the Clippers have some personality; they have grit and determination. They have some indescribable quality — a hunger that sets them apart from the Lakers, whose hunger extends only as far as their contracts.