PHOENIX -- Easter Sunday, sunny Gardena, around noon, his belly full of breakfast, his day full of wonderful nothing, Russell Westbrook Jr. settles into his soft couch in front of his color television.

At which point, his son with the same name walks through the front door.

This is the son who barely 12 hours earlier competed in the most emotional victory of UCLA's basketball season.

This is the son who ended that game with a single dunk and a solitary scream that incited the roar of thousands.

"Happy Easter," Little Russell said.

"Happy Easter," Big Russell said.

"You want to go shoot?" Little Russell said.

"You want to go what?" Big Russell said.

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For all the talk of national tradition and historical treasures, the heart of UCLA basketball is still about the heart of L.A.

It's about Southern California kids playing Southern California basketball.

It's about fathers and sons in Compton, teachers and kids in Woodland Hills, wooden backboards and stuffy gyms from Rancho Park to Rancho Cucamonga.

Every Bruins team has players from out of town, even out of the country, but every team always seemed centered around the kids from L.A.

It's what makes one of basketball's most hyped stories feel so homey. It's what makes them a story that touches not only school kids in Westwood, but parts of all of us.

This season, one of those L.A. kids is Russell Westbrook, a guard who has made but five baskets in two tournament games.

After Saturday's victory over Texas A&M, he quietly vowed to road roommate Kevin Love that he would be better.

Then, on Easter Sunday, he returned to his city roots and the man who helped him grow there.

"So, Dad, we going to shoot?" he said.

His father, initially stunned, just shook his head and smiled.

Of course they would shoot.