Parade Is a Good Reminder of the Joy Lakers Bring Us

And so the Laker season ended Monday afternoon with Mark Madsen, in front of thousands of horrified witnesses, suffering what appeared to be an excruciatingly painful attack of appendicitis.

What? He was just dancing?

“My, my goodness,” Rick Fox said.

“It runs in my family,” Madsen said.

Whatever it was, it lunged and jerked frighteningly across a Staples Center stage during Shaquille O’Neal’s rap song that ended the Lakers’ second consecutive championship parade and rally.

Whatever it was, it was perfect.

On a day of closure tinged with both joy and relief, about 550,000 Angelenos saw the real Lakers.

Caps on backward. Shirts untucked. Masks removed.

Kobe Bryant honoring Jerry West by wearing West’s jersey, and honoring his age by firing a squirt gun.

Tyronn Lue wearing a giant O’Neal jersey.

Horace Grant not wearing goggles.

The conservative Fox talking in street rhyme, shouting, “Stay in your seats, it’s time to three-peat!”

The quiet Brian Shaw leaning against the backs of Lue and Devean George and shouting, “Back to back to back!”

Then there was O’Neal, in long shorts and a T-shirt the size of a tent, three days after stealing the Finals, now stealing the show.

After his typical thank-you speech, O’Neal stalked in front of the podium and began chanting a new Laker-ized version of the rap song, “It Takes Two.”

He sang, his teammates boogied, confetti fell, smoke rose.

And in the parking lot across 11th Street, through the thousands of arms waving above a mass of fenced-in humanity, something else became clear.

It wasn’t only Los Angeles who saw the real Lakers, but it was the Lakers who saw their real fans.

Folks who did not attend one game this year, yet camped out for a good spot at 3 a.m.

“Every time the Lakers played, it was like we were playing too,” said Tanasha Sterling, 34, of Los Angeles, squeezing against the fence. “That’s how we all talked and acted. It didn’t matter that we couldn’t afford the games. It was like we were there.”

These were folks who happily discovered that the love for the Lakers--as silly as it may seem--crosses all boundaries, borders and races.

The eight people in Sterling’s group represent four ethnic groups.

“Today, all that matters is purple and gold,” said Mike Morris, 32, Sterling’s brother.

It was a day not only defining a basketball team and its fans, but a future.

Remember last year’s rally, when only a couple of them dared talk about a repeat? Remember how everyone raised eyebrows when Phil Jackson promised it during the banner raising last fall?

On Monday, they couldn’t stop talking about a third one.

Even Madsen. Even in Spanish.

“Les agradecemos y les decimos que el proximo ano lo haremos otra vez,” he shouted.

Which means, “We thank you and we tell you that next year we’ll do it again.”

The crowd roared, only slightly less than when Madsen chanted, “Who let the dogs out?” and his teammates barked.

Watching the Lakers overcome their midseason turmoil to execute this championship, we figured they were stressed.

Watching them relax Monday, we had no idea how stressed they were.

As each Laker spoke, the others jostled and laughed and tossed water on each other.

When somebody would hold up the gold-ball championship trophy, somebody else would stick a baseball cap on it.

After being portrayed for two months as cold-blooded basketball killers, they reveled in reminding us that they were still kids.

Not quite the strutting, cigar-smoking championship Chicago Bulls, huh?

Good news for a city that has formed a real connection with a young and fun team that looks and acts, well, like us.

“I love y’all,” said Bryant, who rode on a bus with his young wife Vanessa in her first real public appearance.

We assume he also meant O’Neal, who did his part by passing around the championship trophy on the bus so that the golden reflection touched everyone.

The only thing missing was Ron Harper, who was tending to his ill mother in Ohio, but the Lakers remembered and thanked him, and the fans, and the police.

With the exception of a couple of isolated incidents by the usual moronic bullies--it took real courage mugging that helpless souvenir vendor--it was a gratitude that was mostly returned.

All these people, and not one can of tear gas.

“Congratulations to Los Angeles for celebrating with dignity,” said Tim Leiweke, the Staples Center president who is two for two on organizing championship celebrations.

Even that rabble-rouser known as Isaiah “J.R.” Rider pledged to do his part.

“Hopefully I’ll be here and have another chance to do the right thing,” he said.

Let’s not get carried away, shall we?

Shortly before he ended the rally with a 330-pound exclamation point, O’Neal asked the question that fans had been waiting to hear.

“Can . . . you . . . dig it?” he roared.

For a second consecutive year, can we ever.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at [email protected].