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Rockets Vs Lakers: A strangely normal finish
By John P. Lopez (Houston Chronicle)
Updated: 2004-04-30 09:16
I was thinking this must be the epicenter of an impending apocalypse.
Because I was sitting in the eye of sheer, decadent madness.
The theme from Rocky played when Kobe Bryant jogged onto the floor Wednesday
night, three-plus minutes before tipoff. And nearly 19,000 weird, wild people
cheered like they saw a savior.
Los Angeles Lakers' Kobe Bryant
(8) breaks through Houston Rockets defenders Yao Ming, center, and Cuttino
Mobley during the third quarter of a first-round NBA Western Conference
playoff series in Los Angeles, Wednesday, April 28, 2004.
[AP] | I was wondering if I would ever see something normal again. Some kind of
touchstone to reality. Something that would prove to me that the world, indeed,
had not turned upside down.
And then the Rockets went belly-up in the third quarter and face-first into
the floor in the fourth.
The series was over. After a brief tease, the Rockets became their totally
confused, out-of-control, turnover-first, pass-second selves again.
Amid the madness, normalcy finally returned.
I was looking around, thinking that if someone with real power was watching
this Staples Center scene -- someone up there -- we would all probably be out of
excuses.
Over there was Roseanne, wearing a black shawl over a pink teddy. Think about
it for a moment. Use your imagination.
Better yet, don't.
Among the others awaiting the grand entrance of the night's most anticipated
star was LA real estate developer Jimmy Goldstein, the one known around here as
The White Pimp. Goldstein likes to arrive at his courtside seat early and stand
around posing in a floppy wide-brimmed hat, a colorful outfit and snakeskin
boots.
The Laker Girls made their entrance dressed like they were auditioning for
Sodom and Gomorrah. Dennis Rodman, of course, was here ... what kind of night
would this be, really, without him?
I saw implants and tattoos everywhere. I saw purple hair, green hair and
bleach-blond hair. I saw itty-bitty tops and skin-tight jeans -- in some cases
on the men.
I saw the famous Texan, Lance Armstrong, looking like the most normal person
in the building, sitting at courtside in tan slacks and a black T-shirt. He,
too, had to be thinking this was as strange a place as he'd ever seen -- and
Armstrong's been to France!
I was sitting there thinking that if things would ever truly go biblical, and
everything finally flashed white, this could well be the night.
Right there on the big screen were images of a white Suburban pulling into
the Staples Center parking lot, a la O.J. Simpson's white Bronco of 1995. You
could see Bryant inside the Suburban, returning from his pre-trial hearing on
rape charges in Colorado like some kind of conquering hero.
Bryant's every move was followed closely all day with live radio and
television reports, from the moment he hopped off the private plane in Eagle,
Colo., to where he went for lunch near the courthouse to the moment he stepped
foot back on Los Angeles soil.
When he walked into the building, fans chanted "MVP" and his name. When he
came off the floor at the end of the first half, fans reached from the stands
trying to touch him. Strange night.
But finally, the Rockets made the world seem right again. They stunk.
They blitzed the Lakers in the first quarter but still had no less than five
wide-open looks from point-blank range that they could not convert. They could
have stretched the lead but missed.
The Rockets' three-point first-quarter lead could have been 10. Should have
been, really.
The Rockets committed eight turnovers in the second quarter alone, reminding
us that all the progress they seemed to make in Games 3 and 4 might have been
much like this La-La Land crowd -- artificially enhanced.
They had 13 turnovers by halftime. They gave up 16 points off those turnovers
and saw Steve Francis, the poster boy for the Rockets' reality, dribble away the
shot clock just like before.
And then came the third-quarter collapse, when, while the heathens were
cheering Kobe's every move on his way to 31 points and 10 assists, the Rockets
imploded.
They went nearly nine minutes without a field goal. They were forced out of
their offense time and again and went one-on-one on almost every possession.
They missed easy shots and complained about nearly every call. They allowed
Shaquille O'Neal and Bryant to slice their way into a dominating show. They
finished the quarter hitting just 12.5 percent of their shots and none of their
four free-throw attempts.
They made coach Jeff Van Gundy's pre-game words practically prophetic.
When Van Gundy was asked if any of the Rockets' bad habits, of which he has
so often spoken, could have changed in just one series, he responded:
"I don't think your habits change. I think they're borne out. ... I don't
think you see jumps."
The Rockets were outscored 25-9 in the third quarter and 97-78 when it
finally, mercifully, was done.
The Rockets were themselves. The series was over. The world was right again.
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