Lakers are no cheap thrill

Even though Shona Jones’ seats were near the ceiling, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Jones had driven from her San Diego home to Staples Center on Sunday with her two kids and one of her best friends.

She took a breather before going to her seats, time enough to tally the damage. Tickets, gas, parking, hot dogs, sodas, T-shirts and Lakers Crocs for the kids -- she estimated that all together the day would cost near $1,000, a hefty chunk for a legal clerk and her waitress pal.

“It’s the playoffs,” she said. “Kobe and Iverson.”

But $1,000?, she was asked. That’s a lot for one game.

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” she said, her smile tightening. “It’s just so much fun, and worth the memories . . . even in times like these, you can’t put a price on that.”

Absolutely.

These are tough times. It’s the economy, the war, the election, the environment. Pessimism rules. The doomsayers crow.

But inside Staples Center on the day of a Lakers playoff game, where the cheap seats run $200, tough times seem far away.

It’s the flash and sizzle, the sexiness and the athletes. Even in a cavernous arena, it’s the intimate vibe. Unique to L.A. With all due respect to the Angels and Dodgers, unique to the Lakers too.

Inside the building Sunday, in the aisles and porticoes and seats, milled mothers and sons, lawyers and mechanics, chief executives and waitresses.

Elation, sheer confidence, reigned. You could hear a steady mantra among the hopeful: The Lakers are headed to another title.

Recession? What recession.

The lines for greasy, thin, $8.50 hot dogs, ran 20 deep and were constantly replenished.

At the Lakers’ gift shop -- where a Kobe jersey, a gold baseball cap and a pair of purple Lakers Crocs will put nearly a $300 dent in the checking account -- you couldn’t walk three feet without colliding with a fan.

At The Art of the Game, a gallery selling pricey, sports-related curios and portraits, some for more than $5,000, business was good.

“Slowdown? No,” said manager Dave Erickson. “With the optimism about the team, I’m expecting things to pick up.”

“This is the perfect diversion,” said Gordie Woo, a lawyer from Riverside, as he sat in the upper levels of the arena, waiting for the game to begin. Woo carpooled to the game, a nod to the high cost of gas and his worries about the environment. “No troubles here. . . . I’m going to cheer like crazy. It’s payoff for sticking with the team.”

“Lemme tell you,” said Anthony Flores, a carwash owner from Porterville, “this year I just couldn’t wait for the playoffs to come. . . . The playoffs are recession-proof.”

He stood in the gift shop and eyed a Kobe jersey. He said he’d driven with his family, down from the San Joaquin Valley, three hours in his Chevrolet Blazer. Expected total cost for the day? $900.

“I couldn’t wait. No way I’d miss this. . . . I set money aside all year, just for this . . . $10 a paycheck . . . you bleed purple and gold, man, it’s worth it.”

Nearby was Ricardo Alvarado, a Pacoima auto body detailer who wore a Lakers jersey.

“The economy is terrible,” he said, “all the more reason to get away from it and come spend some money. . . . I stopped drinking and partying. I don’t go out. All that money I saved helped get these tickets.”

His seat, he explained, was 25 yards from the court. That’s close. He said he’d purchased it on the Internet, for $250. “A huge bargain. . . . It’s worth it,” he added, shaking his head as if he could not believe his good fortune. “You come down here, it’s electric.”

True.

These games are a spectacle, the disparate parts of L.A. on full display. There’s the artistic side, of course, the touch of physical genius we see in the athletes. Kobe sprinting, leaping and slamming.

Then there’s the gaudy side. The Hollywood side. The incessant, flashing strobes and the purple and gold confetti. The onslaught of ear-rattling, piped-in sound -- nonstop hip-hop, rock and silly exhortations.

Look left. There’s a phalanx of silicone-injected heartthrobs, desperate to look like they don’t want to be noticed.

Look right. There’s Jack Nicholson, old faithful. There’s Banderas, ever sharp. There’s Becks, the soccer star, in his baggy jeans, scruffy beard and tats.

L.A. Glorious L.A.

“You have people from every race and religion and class,” said Carroll Russell.

A season-ticket holder, she said she’d been addicted to the Lakers since the days of Magic and Showtime. “All of us together, we’re all rooting for our team, like family. You kind of forget about everything else that is going on . . . it’s a release.”

A release from what? Iraq? The bickering between Hillary and Barack?

“All of that.”

Such a release, that at the gift shop and the gallery, Russell plunked down $800 on a Lakers golf bag and a basketball signed by Kobe Bryant.

“I’m lucky,” she said, noting that she owns a medical billing company that hasn’t suffered in the weak economy. “Things are going well.”

If you’re inside Staples for tonight’s Game 2 against Denver, the flash, the glitz, the stars and the ringing cash registers will demonstrate just how well.

For those of us watching at home, the thrills will be vicarious, but at least we’ll save on gas.

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Kurt Streeter can be reached at kurt.streeter@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Streeter, go to latimes.com/streeter.