Lakers were Dazed by Rugged Play

1984 NBA Finals

If the Los Angeles Lakers flew home dazed and amazed, confused and feeling totally abused, they canbe forgiven. How would you like to be a 1984 team beaten by a club playing 1964 basketball?

The Lakers' players fulfilled all their artistic promise, floating and soaring and gliding and styling at every opportunity. Every night they unveiled the opening of another offensive show, making over half their field goal attempts (51 percent). The Celtics, by contrast, grunted and groaned and huffed and puffed and struggled to make 44 percent of their shots while shooting over 50 percent in a game only once (and then not by much) while shooting under 40 percent twice, including a dismal .396 bricklaying in the seventh game.

But just as football games are won by total points scored and not accumulated first downs, so, too, are basketball games decided by overall point total and not by field goal percentage. Nor is there any extra value awarded to, say, a James Worthy slam job over three people as opposed to an innocuous Larry Bird rebound layup. Two points is two points, and the Celtics scored more points than the Lakers on four occasions, and thus are the 1983-84 NBA champions.

What the Celtics did offensively to win the series is simple to understand. They banged the boards to give themselves multiple scoring opportunities and they took the ball inside to work their way to the foul line. Without second-chance points and a big free throw shooting advantage, the Celtics could not have beaten the Lakers. (See accompanying box.)

LA is very much a prototypical modern team, replete with superb multi- skilled athletes such as Magic Johnson, Michael Cooper and Worthy. They are the quintessence of finesse. The Celtics, while not what you would call cloddish, are nevertheless somewhat old-fashioned. They are not a reliable outside shooting team by contemporary standards. They begin each game assuming the need to run and pound the offensive boards. On nights when their outside shots are falling they are a great, almost unstoppable team. On other occasions they are like the typical late '50s, early '60s team, content to shoot 40 percent and win by playing aggressive basketball.

Had the Lakers not handed away Games 2 and 4 (need we chronicle those boo- boos any more?), we'd be praising them for their grace and skill. But the Lakers did open the door, and the tough-minded, pushy, cocky and eminently lovable Celtics barged right through it. Robert Parish and Dennis Johnson (talk about an old-fashioned, hard-nosed player) began to assert themselves, and Larry Bird began performing like, well, Larry Bird. LA never could regain control of the series.

"Our team is footloose and freewheeling," explained LA coach Pat Riley. "Our people have wiry bodies. We're built for speed and we like it that way. It's brought us two world's championships in the last five years. But if we have a weakness, it's rebounding. If we're going to compete with a team like the Celtics and other Eastern Conference teams, we have to improve as rebounders."

Admitted Kurt Rambis, LA's only frontline bruiser, "We didn't do the job on the boards - period."

While Bird was unrelentingly brilliant on the glass from the beginning of Game 1 through the end of Game 7, the man whose inspired play helped turn the series around was Parish. From Game 4 on he was every bit as effective for the Celtics as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was for the Lakers. Parish burned fiercely, averaging over five offensive rebounds a game in the final four games. In Game 7 he accounted for 13 of Boston's 21 second-chance points, scoring nine points on second efforts himself, while retrieving the ball for two other baskets.

Bird and Parish were abetted often enough by Cedric Maxwell and Kevin McHale to give the Celtics the sufficient board dominance needed to offset LA's superior shooting. The board pounding, combined with Boston's basic inside power game, resulted in many pleasurable trips to the foul line. Consider that during the construction of a six-point halftime lead in Game 7 the Celtics made but three outside shots. "They have four terrific inside post players," marveled LA assistant coach Dave Wohl, "and they present a totally different defensive problem than any other team in the league."

Dennis Johnson's play in the final four games was another crucial factor. He came back from a horrendous 16-minute, four-point stint in Game 3 to post games of 20, 22, 20 and 22. He also wrapped a defensive blanket around Magic Johnson similar to the one in which he smothered Sidney Moncrief in the Milwaukee series. He anchored the backcourt, while Gerry Henderson enjoyed some very fine moments and Danny Ainge made his contributions.

The backcourt irony was that while Boston's rotation suddenly became comprehensible (Scott Wedman was out and Quinn Buckner was reduced to a total of 10 minutes in the final two games), LA's substitution pattern was falling apart. It was now-you-see-him-now- you-don't with Mike McGee and Byron Scott, as Riley searched fruitlessly for consistent bench help from his guards.

The problem with discussing the Celtics, of course, is that one can never stray too far from the reality of Larry Bird. Los Angeles geared its entire defense toward stopping him, and he still scored, passed, rebounded and defended himself into a richly-deserved MVP award.

Is there anything left to say about Bird? Perhaps what Cassio said of the fair Desdemona in "Othello" (Act II, i 62-65) will suffice. We shall therefore refer to Larry as one

"...That paragons description and wild fame

One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens,

And in th' essential vesture of creation

Does tire the ingener."

Look, you try covering Bird 300 times and see if your vocabulary is up to the task.