Being unique. Standing out from the crowd. Marching to the beat of a different drummer. At some point in our lives, we like to think that we’re “the one and only”. Nothing can be truer when it comes to being a Boston Celtics fan living in Los Angeles. Or should I say, a Boston Celtic fan in King Kobe’s Court? It’s been 21 long years since the Boston Celtics have made it to the NBA Finals. It’s also been 21 years since they met their arch rivals, the Los Angeles Lakers, in those Finals. Sure, Bird and Magic have since moved on from this storied rivalry, but the underlying hatred for both teams still remains. It was this hatred that had my morbid curiosity all a buzz. You see, I was not living in Los Angeles the last time these two teams met in the Finals, so experiencing this match-up on enemy soil was new to me. I decided that for the entire NBA Finals, I would wear my Celtic gear proudly on every game day for as many games as the series took to complete. Most importantly, I’d wear it to the local Laker hangouts and watch the games. Crazy? Maybe. Stupid? Definitely. I’ve always loved being the monkey wrench, so what a better forum (no pun intended) to do so. Plus, I thought I’d put these fickle L.A. fans to the test…

GAME DAY 1

The day started like any other day. I showered, shaved and unveiled the first of my Celtic gear… a #33 Larry Bird jersey. When I went to kiss my wife goodbye for the day, she noticed the attire (Quick side note: I failed to mention my plans to her). Fortunately for me, she’s a Celtic fan and no harm was done. As I ventured into work, I noticed a few of my co-workers adorned in their purple and gold. Everything from #24 Kobe Bryant jerseys to T-shirts marking recent championships… Y’know, the Shaq years. I received the usual banter that exists among co-workers when it comes to rivalries. Most common was, “Lakers in five.” I had a feeling that the comments I was going to be getting were going to be tame in the beginning, but this was a bold prediction considering the “Big 3″ in Boston and the Celtics having home court throughout.

When lunch rolled around, I decided to head across the street to my favorite Mexican restaurant, but not before looking both ways before crossing traffic. A guy in a green shirt jaywalking makes a great target for any Laker flag flying car. While waiting in line for my food, I began to feel the looks that I was receiving from some of the other patrons. They were cold looks of disdain that ran across my shoulders. I am a 17 year Los Angeles resident, but an outsider in the eyes of many. This got me to thinking about my food. Had the cooks noticed my Bird jersey? Were they ordering me up “a little something special” for my meal? The paranoia was rampant and the first tipoff hadn’t even happened yet. I shook it off like Larry Legend would and proceeded to eat. Whew! No problems… that I knew of.

After work, I decided to be bold and get a haircut before the game. I’m at that age where the grays are coming in faster than I can count, so I thought a good trim was in order. As I sat in the lobby reading a random 3 month old magazine, I noticed a woman staring at me. When I finally made eye contact with her, she asked me, “Are you really a Celtic fan?” Her question was similar to that of the rich college kid asking the poor kid on scholarship, “You go to Harvard?” Being the smartass that I am, I responded “No… I just look good in green.” She faked a smile and stuck her nose back into her book. Another gentleman that was waiting laughingly told me, “You should probably take off that shirt.” “I don’t swing that way,” I said. No response from him… Finally in the chair for the haircut and the girl that is about to cut my hair says, “Ohhh, I don’t think I can cut a Celtic fan’s hair.” Then she laughed… I laughed too, only not as reassured as her. Needless to say, for the next 20 minutes “Sweeney Todd” ran through my head. I wasn’t sure if I was going to leave the chair alive, or worse, looking like a clone from a Brittaney Spear’s meltdown. Fortunately neither happened.

I decided to start easy as far as game watching locations were concerned. I chose my cigar lounge. One, because I knew a lot of the guys there and two, I hadn’t had a nice Cohiba in a while. As the only Celtic fan in the place, I quickly became the butt of all comments. The game was close and was getting ribbed by some of the guys. “You guys are going down tonight”, “Kobe is taking over Boston” and the one that was going to be a Laker fan favorite for the remainder of the series, “Boston sucks!”. As I slowly drew on that Cohiba, the biggest scare of the Series occurred. Paul Pierce went down with a knee injury. The Truth was writhing on the floor in pain and felt like joining him. As he was carried off the court, this brought a hum of delight for the Laker faithful. That delight was short lived as Pierce re-entered the game a few minutes later and drained back-to-back three pointers. I was beginning to the hear the chants of “Faker” every time Pierce appeared on the screen. Was he faking? To us Celtic fans, it was a courageous move. To the Laker fans, it was a farce… and I was hearing about it. When the C’s slowly pulled away from the Lakers, the comments of “Boston sucks” grew. It wasn’t until the final minutes of the game that I became confident in the outcome. And just like that, Laker fans started to grumble. As I shook hands with a couple of them after the game, I would hear them say, almost in unison, “Wait till next game.” The guys I considered my “friends” were about to turn. I could feel it. Celtics - 1, Lakers - 0.

GAME DAY 2

Sunday morning. I usually sleep in on Sundays, but I was too excited for Game 2. I planned on going to a local brewery that I knew was showing the game on a couple of screens. The only problem was that my wife wanted to go. Now I don’t mind getting mixed up in things, but I was concerned about her safety. She told me not to worry. So it was to be… my wife and I in our “Beat L.A.” t-shirts sitting side by side.

Before the game, we decided to go to one of the many large bulk stores in the area. We’ll call this one, “Bulko”. As we got out of the car, we received our first “finger” from a guy leaving the parking lot. We laughed it off and headed into the store. Laker fans were stocking up on beer, chips and lunch meat. Most of them were giving us a look as if we were trespassing. We gathered what we needed into our cart and headed to the checkout line. I started putting our items on the counter when the checkout girl looked at us and told us she was closed. How convenient?? I removed the items from the counter and we moved over to the next line. I could tell people saw what had happened to us as they snickered amongst themselves. Then, the day took a turn. ANOTHER CELTIC FAN WALKED IN! He saw our shirts and yelled over to us, “Go Celtics!” We returned in kind, much to the chagrin of the surrounding Laker fans. One Laker fan yelled out, “Wait until tonight. Celtics are going down!” My wife turned and yelled back, “We’ll see….” Gotta love her.

It was game time at the bar. My wife and I had just managed to get a booth with a good view of the TV. Our waitress came over and noticed our t-shirts. “I can’t serve Celtic fans,” she said with a laugh, “I’m just kidding.” Was she? The reason I ask is because it wasn’t long before she turned us over to the “new” girl. The new girl proceeded to get our order wrong at every turn. Kudos to you, evil waitress. Well played. The game itself was much better than the food. The Celtics had taken a commanding 20+ point lead and all seemed well. At one point, a guy dressed entirely from head to toe in a Laker uniform, including yellow knee pads, started yelling at the TV, “Boston sucks!” I’m sure it was directed at us. I asked my wife if I should ask him if he plans on going in to the game at the next TV timeout. She said no… As the third quarter ended, my wife and I became a little bolder and began chanting “Let’s go Celtics!” We were booed immediately. What’s worse is that this once insurmountable lead had dwindled to six points. The Laker fans let us hear it too… “Chokers!” This would come back to haunt them later. After a Radmanovic 1^st Down… Excuse me… slam dunk via a missed traveling call, the Lakers trimmed the lead to four. For a moment, I thought we should make a break for the exit, but then the Celtics came through in Red Auerbach style, winning by six in the end. Laker fans were not happy. A couple of liquored up fellows were getting a little irritated with us and were making their way over. I quickly escorted my wife outside. ELVIS HAS LEFT THE BREWERY! … Celtics - 2, Lakers - 0.

GAME DAY 3

I was feeling pretty confident going into Game 3. The C’s were up by 2 games and it seemed as though they had figured out how to defend the Triangle offense. I was in my “Boston Celtics, Eastern Conference Champions” t-shirt as I went to kiss my wife goodbye again. Only this time, she gave me a big hug. It wasn’t an “I love you so much” hug as it was more of a “Be careful, but if not, I’ve taken out a big life insurance policy on you” kind of hug. I told her not to worry… but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t a little concerned.

It was Tuesday and I usually went to lunch with a couple of guys from work on Tuesdays. Only this time, they never came to get me. I saw them slowly slithering out into the parking lot and into a car. I ran out into the parking lot and asked them to “Wait up!” I was quickly informed that I couldn’t come with them because of my shirt. Since I wasn’t going to change, I told them I’d just get lunch on my own. So, for the first Tuesday in a while, I was on my own. I decided to try my Mexican restaurant again. Upon crossing the street, I looked left, then right, then left… then right again. And then left, just for good measure. The restaurant was filled with Laker fans. It was as if I was at a concession stand at the Staples Center. My shirt drew immediate fire. “Boston sucks!” rang out again. It was as if green and white were the official colors of the Taliban. Even the nice guy that usually takes my order with a smile appeared bothered that he had to help me. I noticed the cooks looking at me as well. I decided to just get some chips and salsa because the salsa was self-serve or should I say, self-protection. I repeated what had become a safety ritual in crossing the street and headed back into work.

For the game, I decided to go to a chain restaurant and sit at their bar. I received a few glares from the fans already there, but for the most part, they seemed more nervous than anything. Game 3 was a tough one. The Celtics had the lead after three quarters of play, but Kobe started to takeover. The chants of “Kobe!, Kobe!” filled the restaurant. I had to laugh because these are the same fans that only nine months prior had been calling in to local sports radio stations demanding that the Lakers get rid of Kobe since he wanted to be traded. The same fans that had ripped him for being a selfish player were now the same fans that chanted “MVP!” at the TV screen. How could you not laugh? In what should have been a victory for the Celtics, turned out to be a hard fought win for the Lakers. I was quickly informed by the all knowing Laker fan to my right that the Series was “now over” because Kobe wants it more. Suuuure he does… Celtics - 2, Lakers - 1.

GAME DAY 4

Not daunted by the Game 3 outcome, I headed into work with my simple “Celtics” t-shirt on. The freeway was filled with cars sporting every kind of Laker flag imaginable. One guy even had his windows painted purple and gold. There seemed to be a renewed confidence in the ever so fickle Laker fans. Even as I walked into work, I heard screams from passing cars. “It’s all over now!” and “Go back to Boston, —hole!”. That was my favorite by the way…

My Laker co-workers were all a buzz for Game 4. They were positive that the Series has shifted to their favor even though they were down a game. I have to admit, I was a little concerned, but since the C’s held home court, they would have a chance to close this thing out in Boston. The bravado was oozing from everyone from the receptionist to our janitor. They were definitely on a high for this game. The most common phrase of the day was, “We’re taking all three at home and ending it in 6 in Boston!” Again, I had to laugh. “Laugh it up now, because you’ll be crying tomorrow.” I liked that one too. As far as lunch that day, I brought mine from home.

I decided to return to my cigar lounge for Game 4. I was greeted with the usual banter, but this time, they all seemed more serious about it. There was a little more animosity than usual and I ended up sitting by myself. As the first half unfolded, I was being laughed at by everyone in the place. A guy, who wasn’t even a member, came in, bought a cigar and high-fived a member as he left. The Lakers were killing the Celtics. I couldn’t believe the C’s were down by 24! This was embarrassing. I wanted to crawl out of there, but I promised myself I would sit through it regardless of the outcome.

Holy Crap! We cut the lead in half! Suddenly it was a game again and the Laker fans were growing nervous. Soon it was me, the monkey wrench, yelling at the top of his lungs every time a shot went down for the C’s. And much to my enjoyment, it wasn’t the “Big 3″ doing it. It was James Posey and Eddie House doing the damage. What had become a laugher for the Lakers was becoming the greatest comeback in NBA Finals history… and the Laker fans were worried. After a while, it was only me yelling at the TV. I hadn’t realized it, but the lounge was now half empty and those who were still there were just watching in dismay as their cherished Lakers were tanking. Tanking BIG! When the game was finally over, I had to stand and clap. That was one of the greatest comebacks I had ever seen. I left the lounge and headed out into the parking lot. A desperate cry of “Celtics suck!” was heard in the distance. It was a cry that sounded beaten. It was beautiful!… Celtics - 3, Lakers - 1.

GAME DAY 5

It was Father’s Day… and not just any Father’s Day either. This was a Game 5 Father’s Day and my wife and I were going to spend it at my In-laws. The only problem was my In-laws were Laker fans. They were originally from the Mass area, but after too many years of living in Los Angeles, they had become Laker fans. Knowing this, I chose to wear my “Beat L.A.” shirt again just for kicks. It wasn’t appreciated. I was banished to the car to listen to the second half of the game on the radio by myself.

I’ll cut Game Day 5 short by saying… THAT WAS A FOUL ON KOBE TRYING TO STEAL THE BALL FROM PIERCE!!

Celtics - 3, Lakers - 2.

GAME DAY 6

Game Day 6… or as I like to call it, “The Boston Massacre”. I was feeling pretty cocky headed into work that day. I knew the Series was over that night. I could feel it. Now I just had to make sure the hopeful Laker fans knew that as well. I spared no one in my jabs at the Lakers. “The Lakers are done tonight!” was my battle cry. I would tell this to co-workers, to friends and even to strangers on the street. I would tell it to anyone in a Kobe jersey or anyone in purple and gold… including Prince, if I saw him. This was to be my day. Twenty-one long years without a title for the C’s. I was not going to be denied in this one.

I decided to take my “game” to the loudest Laker bar I knew. Adorned in my #33 Larry Bird jersey, I swaggered in and took a seat right at the bar. Typical Laker fans were arriving late, so I had some time to have a few brews before the festivities. Then it happened. Five Celtic fans walked in and took a table in the corner. A Clipper fan walked in right after, but he doesn’t count. A few more Laker fans came in, but they were followed by two more Celtic fans! What was happening here? If only General Custer had been so lucky to get reinforcements like this…

Finally, the tipoff… Kobe banged down three in-your-face 3 pointers, and I thought this was going to be a long night. The Laker faithful clung to their bandwagon hero for the entire first quarter. Then the wheels on the bus came off for the Lakers. In what was supposed to be a scrappy, hard fought, backs to the wall game became a slaughter. Rajon Rondo came to play. Kevin Garnett came to play. And even Ray Allen, who was injured in the eye on an awful NO CALL, came to play. I’ll give credit to the Laker fans, though. They hung in there. They remembered that only a few short days ago, the Celtics had come back from a big deficit to win. They just knew that the Zen master, Phil Jackson, was going to pull this off. Plus, they had Kobe… Hahahahahaha!! Sorry, I couldn’t type that with a straight face. Kobe wasn’t going to save them. Chants of “You’re not Jordan!” by the Boston Garden faithful as Kobe shot free throws became laughable amongst me and my newly found recruits in the bar. That Laker run that so many of the fans were waiting for never came. The rout was on.

It became the biggest rout in NBA Finals’ close out game history. I was embarrassed for the Lakers and for their fans. How could you roll over and play dead like that in a Finals game? I have seen bigger hearts in avocados. As a matter of fact, when Dorothy and the Scarecrow found the Tin Man in the woods at the beginning of “The Wizard of Oz”, he had more heart at that point in the movie than the Lakers did all night. Did the Laker fans deserve that kind of ending to their season? Probably not. But as answering as a Celtic fan, “ Damn straight!”… Celtics - 4, Lakers - 2.

AFTERTHOUGHT

As I waited patiently for my “Boston Celtics, NBA Champions” gear that I ordered online just hours after the game, I listened to the Laker fans accept their loss. Excuse, after excuse, after excuse would come pouring in over the airwaves to the local sports stations. “If we only had Bynum…” or “Kobe was just off…” were the common ones. A lot of fans were demanding that Lamar Odom be traded, or that Phil Jackson didn’t abandoned the Triangle offense soon enough. It wasn’t long after that that the Kobe talk started again. “Kobe should have played better”, cried one Laker fan on the radio. “Maybe we should have traded Kobe to begin with,” said another. Not once did I hear a caller give the Celtics the credit they deserved. It was then and there that I realized the true fickle nature of the Laker fan. Their “arrive late, leave early” attitude towards their team. Going to games just to be seen as opposed to going to the games to see the game. It was all right there. Suddenly, everyone in L.A. was green… with envy.