Report from the Clip Joint

The night began with a heavy heart. For I knew that, unless the Rockets meet the Lakers in the playoffs, this would be the Pajama Crew’s last trip through town of the season (by the way, who else thinks the uniform should go all the way and include a nightcap with a little fuzzy ball at the tip?). And, it would follow, this would be my last report for the season. Either way, there's no way I'll be able to get playoff tickets, so this is it.

I left early to compensate for the time to get around various protests downtown, but I forgot that the protesters get off at sundown to go clubbing. Nevertheless, because of security measures there were very long lines to enter the Superstore, so I’m glad I had time on my side.

I eased in behind a large group of Asian ticketholders. I asked if they were there for the Rockets. “No,” one said, “we’re Clippers fans. What, do you think we’re here just to see Yao Ming? We’re not even Chinese. We’re Korean.”

“Um, yeah, I meant because of the Rockets new, um, Korean point guard, uh, Kim Il Jong,” I replied. Then I ran as fast as I could to a different entrance. Actually, most of the fans present were indeed there to cheer on the Rockets, Yao or otherwise. Yes, there are some hardcore Clippers fans in LA, but they are more of a curiosity. I can’t decide if they’re sad or just precious. But, with the exception of booing Mo Taylor, most of the noise was pro-Rockets.

Alas, the Yao-Zhizhi matchup that riled up the crowd back in November was not to be – Wang entered the game only when Ming left, for some reason. Maybe, possibly, it’s because the former is the latter’s b****, but that is strictly conjecture on my part.

I got to my seat in time for the Star Spangled Banner, performed by a new boy band “At Last” while some local Marines presented their colors. It was awe-inspiring, given the events of our day, and I wondered why more people weren’t joining in to sing and applaud. Then I remembered – this is a Clippers game – there aren’t more people here in the first place!

So, with my “TWO-RIFFIC” T-shirt ca. 1995 on my back, my fellow Housonian ex-patriot A-Dog at my side, I settled in to my seat. We were worried, of course – the Clippers match up so well, too well, against our squad. Why, no one can tell. But, as you know by now, they have run out of players and steam at this point. So, onto the game:

The game opened with a 3 by Cuttino. And Eddie. Now Posey. I haven’t looked at the stats yet but I think Posey had 150 3-point baskets by the end of the night. That’s gotta be some kind of record. Pretty soon Stevie put on a move that elicited audible “oohs” from the crowd. Actually, I guess that’s the only kind of oohs there are – audible ones.

At one point in the second Posey went flying into the courtside seats under the basket. Somehow, he managed to land in an empty one. (I know, what are the odds of an empty seat at a Clippers game? But it turns out this was the only one in that small section, and it was right next to Mike Dunleavy, scouting for the Mavs. This is the kind of on-the-spot info you just can’t get from the traditional press. But that’s why I’m here.)

Even though Moochie blew a wide-open layup off a give-and-go from Mo (some people call him Maureeeeece), it was 40-20 at the 8:37 mark. Just one of the many times in the game we had double their score.

Even though this was not a Lakers game, the crowd booed Glen Rice, just for good measure. Then he quickly fouled Lamar Odom. Rice on Lamar? I guess if you know he’s gonna score, no use wasting an actual defender on him. Sometime after the obligatory Hava Nagila recording, Mo missed a tomahawk jam, much to the delight of the crowd.

Cato stupidly commits an offensive foul on Cherokee Parks, who immediately went to get a tattoo to commerorate the occasion. With the final seconds ticking away, Eddie was a little confused on the offensive end. Rice gave him a little instruction, and Eddie hit the final shot at the buzzer. Sweet.

On to the Q3: Posey is called for carrying. Carrying! Dear Ref, Greetings from the NBA! Here in pro-ball land, we no longer call “carrying.” Please refer to my colleague Allen Iverson for details. Love, Dave.

Miller fouls Stevie HARD on a breakway, and Stevie is in his face before his feet touch the ground. Double-Technical. Sonn afterwards, they shakehands, and the crowd boos for some reason. Ah, L.A.

Here’s a sweet dish inside to Yao… BLOCKED BY PARKS! And, you guessed it, he’s off for another tattoo.

After a mystery offensive foul called on Mr. Francis, he almost bulldozes a ref going for a loose ball, flips it to Posey who’s all alone for the sweet jam. It was the only breakaway jam of the night. Ah, the NBA.

Sorry there’s not much more to say here – the game was pretty much decided the entire night. Of course, you never know. As the A-Dog says, that’s why the NBA sucks – you could be up by 30 but only the final four minutes or so really count. Luckily, that wasn’t the case as the Rockets cruised to victory.

Also a shame since I have so much time to write this post, being that I was laid off. Hey, anyone need a technical writer in the L.A. area? Just asking.