THE NBA CHAMPIONSHIP SERIES : LOS ANGELES LAKERS vs. DETROIT PISTONS : 1969 REMEMBERED : In the Last Game 7 of an NBA Finals at the Forum, the Lakers Lost to Boston

There is lore and there is lore . . .

Whenever the Celtics play a seventh game in Boston Garden, they trot out the hallowed statistic: 10,000 previous Game 7s, the Celtics triumphant in 9,999, or something like that.

And then there is Laker lore . . .

The last Game 7 of an NBA Finals played in the Forum was 19 years ago. This is fortunate, because it’s taken the Lakers that long to get over that star-spangled night.

Not only did they lose to the Celtics, a gaggle of graybeards who looked overdue for a park bench, there were other touches that would live forever:

--Jack Kent Cooke’s balloons in a net above the floor, to be released when the Lakers won or the Fourth of July, whichever came first.

--Don Nelson’s pop-up jumper.

--Wilt Chamberlain coming out of the game with a knee injury.

--Bill (Butch) van Breda Kolff refusing to put him back in.

Didn’t some Laker miss a big 15-footer, too?

“I don’t remember,” says Tom Hawkins, then a Laker, now the Dodger vice president of communications.

“The reason I don’t remember, there was more action going on on the bench between Chamberlain and Van Breda Kolff then there was on the floor.”

Jerry West, guard non pareil and folk hero, has called it the hardest loss in a career full of them.

“I really have to say, that was a real unpleasant situation,” says West, now Laker general manager.

“I really try to forget things like that.”

Chamberlain, reminiscing about seventh games in his own storied career, notes that few live up to the hype.

“They’re built up and built up and built up,” he says, “and they never quite come out to what they’re supposed to be.”

This one did.

THE SEASON

It was a simpler time. Eight teams made the playoffs. To most people, winning was easy: you just stacked superstars on top of one another.

Cooke, who thought like most people and also had an ego as big as all outdoors, had just acquired Chamberlain to go with West and Elgin Baylor, thus seemingly guaranteeing a 70-victory season and a stroll through the playoffs.

In fact, they won 55 games, two fewer than the Baltimore Bullets, and were down 0-2 to Nate Thurmond’s San Francisco Warriors in the first round of the playoffs before rallying.

The Butch-Wilt feud polarized not only the team, but the town. Chamberlain used to rip Van Breda Kolff in the Herald Examiner, which became known as “Wilt’s paper.” VBK used to rip Wilt in The Times, which became known as “Butch’s paper.” Heaven knows what might have been possible if they’d had minicams in those days.

“We were said to be the greatest assemblage of superstars ever,” says Hawkins. “We were never a team. Wilt and Elgin never blended in their styles of play. Jerry was imperturbable. He did what he did despite Wilt’s presence.

“The year before, we were the smallest team ever to play in the NBA finals. We had Darrall Imhoff, who was really 6-8 1/2. Elgin and I were the forwards at 6-5. There was lots of movement, lots of picking, lots of clearance. It was ideal for my play, ideal for Elgin’s play. But Wilt was a low-post, traditional type of center.”

Was it true that Chamberlain was resented by many Lakers, and given nicknames, like “The Load?”

“That was a Van Breda Kolff construct,” Hawkins says.

“Wilt was probably the most individualistic person and athlete I’ve ever known. He prided himself on that individuality. The Lakers were real close-knit people, on and off the court. We had no experience with that type of personality. That posed some problems.

“Jerry would say what he had on his mind, but he pretty much stayed out of arguments. Wilt was very outspoken, and he had a lot of things to say. Van Breda Kolff would lash out at anything he saw fit. Elgin would speak up when he got frustrated. He and Wilt had some arguments, and finally they stopped talking.

“I was the player representative. I walked a tightrope between the players and management.

“We probably had more meetings than anyone in the history of the NBA. I’d be on the phone to (General Manager) Fred Schaus probably after every game on the road.

“Let me tell you about one. Fred says, ‘Tommy, set up a meeting in Atlanta and I’ll fly in.’

“I think we had it in Chick Hearn’s room, because he had the largest room. Fred came in and he said, ‘Tom, you’re the player-rep, you start the meeting.’

“I said, ‘Basically, we’re dealing with the differences between Coach van Breda Kolff and Wilt Chamberlain.

“ ‘Wilt, I’m going to tell you what’s being said about you when you’re not here.

” And Bill, I’m going to tell you what’s being said about you when you’re not here.

“And both of them jumped me! I said, ‘Whoa . . . ‘ “

WILT

Whoa, indeed.

You think Chamberlain doesn’t have one or two thoughts on the subject?

“Hawkins says he was in the middle of the road,” Wilt says. “Sure, he was in the middle of the road. He was a non-contributor who wasn’t really doing anything.”

Get the message? Mess with Wilt at our own risk.

“I like Tommy Hawkins,” Chamberlain says. “As I like Elgin Baylor and Jerry West.

“I name those three guys because to me, they were somewhat of the culprits. When I was with San Francisco, I understand I had a chance to come to the Lakers but the general manager had a private vote and they vetoed it.

“And I fully understand that. Because I was the star of the NBA. Elgin Baylor was maybe second to me, and Jerry West was closing in. And I don’t think they wanted anybody to top their situation. Plus, monetarily there might have been a difference.

“I was the only one asked and forced to change his game. They didn’t ask Jerry West to change his game. They didn’t ask Elgin Baylor to change his game.

“The record books can prove I changed my game. I’m the only guy who could hit a home run who was asked to hit a single because it would help my teammates by not making them look bad.

“They’d say, ‘Elgin drives to the basket, so get Wilt out of the middle.’ What’s the difference who puts the ball in the basket? If I’m putting the ball in the basket at a higher percentage than anyone in the game, I belong in the middle, not Elgin. I gave up scoring a lot more points to pass the ball to the likes of Keith Erickson. And I’m not down on Keith Erickson, I’m just using his name.

“Then they’ve got this . . . idiot of a coach. He wasn’t an idiot as a coach, he was a good coach. He was just an idiot as far as personalities were concerned. It was just hard for me to look up to a man who’d go out and get drunk every night. I had no respect for the man.”

Of course, they’d pretty well worked their problems out by the finals.

Or so it seemed.

THE FINALS

The Celtics had finished fourth in the East in the regular season, but they had another miracle or two left up their sleeves.

That they even got to a seventh game in the finals required one.

It came in Game 4 at Boston. The Lakers led the series, 2-1, and the game, 88-87. Despite pulling his left hamstring, West had scored 40 points while guarding John Havlicek, Larry Siegfried and Emmette Bryant, whoever was hottest, and holding his men to a total of four field goals.

With 15 seconds to play, the Celtics designed a play for 35-year-old Sam Jones, then a week from retirement, a triple screen at the free-throw line. Jones caught the ball, stumbled and flung it toward the hoop. It bounced twice on the rim and fell in at :01.

Jones said later he’d thrown it so high to give Bill Russell, also 35 and retiring, a chance for the rebound.

“That would have been one hell of a rebound,” Russell said. He hadn’t been in the game, having pulled himself so the Lakers couldn’t foul him intentionally.

GAME 7

First there were the balloons, hung from the ceiling with care at Cooke’s direction. Even Red Auerbach had been careful to pile up a commanding lead before lighting up his stogies.

“I thought it was ridiculous,” West says. “At least, I didn’t want to see it.

“That’s what he (Cooke) wanted to do and he did it.”

By the fourth quarter, it was a Celtic rout. They led by 17 with less than 10 minutes left, before West scored 14 of his teams’ 16 points in a desperate rally. Limping on his sore leg, he’d finish with 42 points and set a playoff scoring record.

With 5:19 to go and the Celtic lead down to 103-96, Chamberlain left with a sore right knee. Although Russell would later accuse him of having “copped out,” none of the Lakers Wilt was on such tenuous terms with ever did.

“That same knee he complained about gave way the next season,” Hawkins says. “Wilt was not one to shirk from the challenge.

“I was sitting there. Wilt put some ice on it. Van Breda Kolff was out of his mind. He felt short of death, nobody should come out of the game.

“Then when Wilt asked to come back, Bill said, ‘Forget it, we don’t need you.’

“They were talking to each other, sure. Van Breda Kolff was furious. He was absolutely livid, but he was livid most of the time. Wilt was angry because Van Breda Kolff, in making that decision, had labelled what Wilt had done. Wilt didn’t understand how Bill thought he could come out of a game like that for the hell of it.”

The Lakers got to within 103-102 and had several shots to go ahead--West and Erickson missed--but didn’t.

With 1:17 left, Nelson hit his famous 15-footer. It hit the back of the rim, bounced high into the air and came down in the basket. The Lakers lost, 108-106.

“I tore part of my patella tendon, so it wasn’t some little pull,” Chamberlain says. “I played with injuries and pain all my life.

“I come out to get some ice and go back in the game. And I find out he isn’t going to let me go back in the game.

“I asked him 2-3 times. He said, ‘No, you sit down and shut up.’ Those were his words to me.

“What I’ve always felt sorry about, my teammates knew I was the best center in the game, but no, they didn’t come to my defense.

“They didn’t come over and say, ‘Wilt, can you play?’ No, they were willing to accept Mel Counts. I think one of the reasons was they harbored a little desire to win without Wilt, too.

“The more I think about that game, the more angry I get.”

AFTERMATH

A month later, Van Breda Kolff resigned with a year left on his contract and took a job with the lowly Pistons.

West ducks the controversy to this day.

“I was playing the game,” he says. “I didn’t know what was going on on the bench.”

Hawkins retired. To him this game was just “the last act in the circus for me.”

Baylor retired three seasons later. With Jim McMillian in his place, the Lakers won their record 33 in a row, their record 69 in a season and took the NBA title.

Chamberlain retired a year after that. He now lives in a mansion off Mulholland Drive, travels, dates glamorous women and takes potshots at Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. He’s 52 but even at mid-decade, NBA teams were still trying to lure him back.

Russell’s remark about “copping out” ended his friendship with Chamberlain.

“I’ve never seen him since,” Chamberlain says. “He’s since apologized in print in different ways, but never to me. I don’t give two . . . about that right now.”

Aside from that, it wasn’t too bad.

Look at it this way, whatever happens tonight can’t match this one, or at least Laker fans pray it can’t.