NBA CHAMPIONSHIP : LAKERS VS. CELTICS : D J : He might be small at 6-4, but as Magic Johnson says, 11-year NBA veteran Dennis Johnson is ‘wide.’ And the Celtic guard knows how to defend, too, even one on one.

It’s DJ Day once more, the freckle-faced veteran of Seattle, Phoenix, several recriminations, several thousand bricks and now chronic fatigue, too, having rallied once more when the going got toughest.

How many more days can he have? He already has volunteered to come off the Celtic bench next season and let Sam Vincent start.

You want to talk about long careers? Dennis Johnson, the roly-poly, one-time unknown from Dominguez High, Harbor JC and Pepperdine is now an 11-year pro.

On March 1, he was the seventh-oldest starter in the National Basketball Assn. and No. 6 in minutes played in the season. In the Piston series, the Celtic physician said Johnson was suffering from “chronic fatigue.”

Sunday, Johnson made 11 of 22 shots, including 9 of 10 in the Celtics’ string of 25 scores in 28 possessions. The Green Machine lives to fight another day.

How did Johnson rise above illness?

“The Celtic doctor (Thomas Silva) never examined me,” Johnson said Monday. “I don’t know where he got ‘chronic fatigue’ from. I’m sure everybody’s tired after games.

“That’s Doc Silva. He gave you guys a message in L.A. when he said Kevin (McHale) was jeopardizing his career by playing. Hey, that’s Doc Silva. Everybody has an opinion.”

Doc Silva, a large, rotund man with a smiling countenance, was sitting nearby. He said chronic fatigue “is a nice way of saying you’re very tired.”

You’d be tired too if you’d come Dennis Johnson’s way.

He spent his first four pro seasons in Seattle, the last protege of Bill Russell, who liked his fearlessness. In ‘78, he first sprang to attention, blocking seven Bullet shots in a game in the finals.

A 6-foot 4-inch guard blocking seven shots? Who’d ever heard of it? Since 1979, he has been either first- or second-team all-defense. Unlike a lot of flashes, say, Walt Frazier, who build big reputations on steals, DJ can really play defense. He can defend one on one. He plays guards bigger than he is, and blurs those smaller than he is.

“He’s wide,” says Magic Johnson, the archetype of the former. “He doesn’t gamble and he doesn’t make stupid mistakes. He’s wide and he keeps you in that cage.”

In ‘79, DJ was the MVP as the SuperSonics won the championship.

Two seasons later, having been branded “a cancer” by Coach Lenny Wilkens, he was traded to Phoenix.

Three years later, with less vilification but no less purpose, he was traded to the Celtics. Maybe he was too fearless.

“I’ve been saying since I left Seattle, since I left Phoenix, I don’t look for vindication, grudges, nothing,” Johnson says. “The trades that were made, they have to be happy with. I was very happy in Seattle. I was happy in Phoenix.

“Me ‘n’ John (MacLeod, former Sun coach) didn’t have our best days and best nights, but every practice I was there.

“The only thing that gets me is finding out, ‘Dennis is lazy in practice.’ I’m not lazy. I do hate to practice, no question about it, but I’m out there running up and down, working up a sweat.

“It’s not vindication but it is very satisfying to me to have had a good career.”

All travail didn’t end immediately in Boston. In Johnson’s first season, Tom Heinsohn, who is considerably tougher on the Celtics in local telecasts than in his CBS outings, said DJ wasn’t a “true Celtic.”

These days, Celtics don’t come any truer.

A low-percentage shooter, he seems to make a lot of the big ones. In the mid-’80s series with the Lakers, when everyone began double-teaming the inside players and challenging the guards to shoot, it was DJ who stepped up time and again and ruined the plan.

Magic Johnson says he’s one of the NBA’s 10 best at crunch time.

Adds Larry Bird: “The best player I’ve ever played with.”

Says DJ, laughing: “And he’s right. When you pass the ball to him as much as I do, he better not say anything else.

“I’m an average shooter, I guess. I don’t know what average is in this league. I think I’m a career 44%. There’s been worse.

“Bob Cousy has been labeled a great player and he shot 34-35(%). Maybe I just have to wait until the year 2000 and somebody will call me a great player, a great shooter. I’m probably just ahead of my time.”

Speaking of time . . .

The Boston Herald recently quoted Johnson as saying he was ready to let Vincent start in his place. Johnson says that he was overheard saying that, but he doesn’t deny it.

“I’m in my 11th year, getting ready to start my 12th,” he says. “I don’t think you can hold a Sam Vincent back, I think everybody can see that.”

This must be a recent vision. When the playoffs started, Vincent was considered a busted prospect here. He still has trouble getting K.C. Jones to let him into games, though he has played well when used. Maybe DJ sees something that K.C. is picking up on slower.

Maybe DJ does have chronic fatigue.

“Hey, I don’t have to play 45 minutes,” he says. “I can play 30. I’ve already outlasted a lot of people in this league.

“Come off the bench? I sat on the bench in high school, in college, in the pros. No, just say I answered the question flat out. Anything I say will just lend itself to controversy. I’ll do anything K.C. wants me to do.”

K.C. would like him to nail some more jumpers tonight. Otherwise, they’ll all be too close to summer vacation and more rest than they want.