Ho-hum

Sporting News, The, March 7, 1994 by Steve Buckley

The Lakers-Celtics rivalry isn't what it used to be

During the get-out-of-my-way, more-more-more, spend-spend-spend '80s, our leaders included Ronald Reagan, Tip O'Neill, Michael Jackson, Paul McCartney and the Celtics and Lakers. They were on a roll, year after year, vote after vote, hit after hit, shot after shot, even if there were frequent inter-icon clashes: Reagan and the Tipster battled over the budget, Jackson bought the rights to songs McCartney had written, and the Celtics and Lakers ... well, the Celtics and Lakers spent most of the decade taking it to each other for the right to be No. 1.

A meeting between the Celtics and Lakers had a measure of finality to it, be it the regular season or the playoffs, and the personalities involved seemed to mirror the cities they represented. Was not Pat Riley, with his fancy suits and expensive, pretty-boy haircuts, the embodiment of everyone's worst stereotypes about Hollywood? And was not Larry Bird -- workmanlike, determined, and very, very white -- pretty much your basic Bostonian?

When Kevin McHale uncoiled his arm and delivered a now-famous (or, infamous if you're a Lakers fan) clothesline attack on the Lakers' Kurt Rambis in Game 4 of the 1984 NBA Finals, it was so much more than a schoolyard cheap shot. It was a message from everyone in Boston, and it went this way: "Take your fancy ways and your Hollywood pals and go back to the hills." Never mind that Rambis, a meat-and-potatoes player who probably should have been a Celtic, was about as fancy as deviled ham. It was a fight between a Laker and a Celtic, damn it, and under such circumstances the battle lines are clearly drawn.

What a shame that the '80s had to end. The '90s brought recession, a collapsed real-estate market and the emergence of Michael Jordan, who proved he could hit the basket from every corner even if he would later prove he can't hit the curve. Ronald Reagan lost his memory, and Michael Jackson lost his privacy. And where once the NBA's clock was set by the comings and goings of the Celtics and the Lakers, now they are just two more stops on the NBA map.

The Celtics and Lakers are in the midst of their annual home-and-home showdown. The Lakers won last Sunday in the Forum, 100-97. The return engagement is set for Boston Garden for Friday. But let's face it: The masses aren't exactly going gaga over this year's edition of one of the great rivalries in sports -- only 13,063 turned out in the 17,505-seat Forum last Sunday. Larry Bird and Magic Johnson have long since retired, the former because of a bad back, the latter because of bad choices.

The Lakers are sinking in the NBA's Pacific Division, 18 games behind Seattle, a team with almost as much talent but not nearly as much charisma as the 1980s Lakers. As for the Celtics, they have all but fallen off the screen. They have lost 12 in a row, a franchise record. Where once Celtics fans screamed for Larry, now they scream for the lottery.

And it isn't just the fans who have noticed the fallout. So, too, have the smarties who decide which teams are going to visit America's living rooms. TNT had planned originally to televise Friday's Lakers-Celtics game from Boston Garden but later decided that Rick Fox and Sherm Douglas vs. Sedale Threatt and Elden Campbell lacks drama. And let's face it: Larry vs. Magic it is not. Instead, TNT plans to televise the Portland-Chicago game.

And so it will be, too, with the rest of the media. Jeffrey Twiss, director of public relative for the Celtics, says that while there will still be a large media delegation for Friday's game, it won't be anything like it was during the '80s. Twiss expects 90 or 100 media folks for the game, including photographers. "Back in 1985, we'd have 160, 175 people for a Celtics-Lakers game, and that was just for the regular season," Twiss says. "If it was a playoff game, the number would go up to 250 or 300. And you know how cramped the Garden is. We'd have media people who would just give up and watch the game from the television in the media room."

Opponents no longer get up for the Lakers and Celtics. After Charles Barkley sleepwalked through a Suns victory over the Celtics, he asked why one would want to drive a Rolls-Royce to the supermarket when a Volkswagen will do.

To understand the tenacity of this rivalry, a history lesson is in order. Listen to Chick Hearn, the Lakers' Hall of Fame play-by-play announcer: "The Lakers and the Celtics are the spine on which the rest of the NBA was built. These two teams made the NBA what it is." Says Elgin Baylor, a Hall of Fame player for the Lakers, "Every year, it was the best team in the East against the best team in the West. They had the best players, the best coaching, everything."

In the days before Larry Bird, the Celtics had Bill Russell, Sam Jones and John Havlicek. Before Magic Johnson, the Lakers had Jerry West, Wilt Chamberlin and Gail Goodrich. But what the Celtics had over the Lakers, year after year, was the final victory: The Celtics could always be counted on to knock out the Lakers come playoff time, making the lighting of Red Auerbach's victory cigar, be it at the Garden or Forum, a harbinger of spring. Four times in Auerbach's final five seasons as coach, the Celtics ended the Lakers' season.