THE NBA CHAMPIONSHIP SERIES : LOS ANGELES LAKERS vs. DETROIT PISTONS : A Flash Into Past With 3 Ex-Lakers

Once upon a time they were Lakers. They got into the dynasty on the ground floor, helped build it, strutted their hour upon the stage, then were gone.

They were Silk, Savoir Faire and Potsy, known more formally as Jamaal Wilkes, Norman Nixon and Brad Holland. They were Lakers the year Jerry Buss bought the team and Magic Johnson came to town.

They’re still here, in Los Angeles, but they watch from a distance as the Lakers, with a few of their old pals still leading the way, march into tonight’s date with destiny.

Few athletes have traveled the fast lane, on and off the court, with as much savoir-faire as Norm Nixon. Thus the nickname, shortened to Sav. AKA: Stormin’ Norman.

Nixon was traded to the Clippers after the ’83 playoffs, and after a comedy adventure in which the Lakers hired private detectives to follow Nixon through Hollywood. One detective, sensing a frame job by his partner, alerted Nixon to the tail. If the movie is ever made, Eddie Murphy and John Candy will play the dicks.

With the Clippers, Nixon settled into a professional obscurity brought on by a bad team and his own big injuries.

“I tell you, Detroit, the way they win is real ugly,” Nixon says from his home in Santa Monica. “They don’t win like they’re in control, but they beat Boston that way. It’s ugly.

“They walk the ball up, not that many fast breaks. They lure the Lakers right into that type of game, the Lakers get into standing around and pounding, when they should pound ‘em as they run by ‘em, bang ‘em as they fly by ‘em. You have to force the tempo . . . “

Nixon didn’t enjoy the way the Lakers sent him packing. He was bitter then, probably still is. When he got the news of the trade, he and Magic Johnson and Michael Cooper, closest of pals, huddled together in the men’s room of a fancy restaurant and cried.

Where is Nixon’s heart now?

“My heart is into watching a good game,” he says. “I came into the league with (former Lakers) James Edwards and Adrian Dantley. It would be good to see them get a championship. It’s great to see new teams come up and challenge. But I wouldn’t mind seeing the Lakers go on and make history.”

Is it tough to watch the Lakers winning without him?

“I would love to be winning, but the time I left the Lakers, it was time for me to go. I would love to be playing. . . . I want to be out there playing. But I have no regrets. It was a great experience.

“I’ll plop down (tonight) and check it out, strictly as a fan. Have a bowl of popcorn, some Coronas, kick back and watch it. I just want it to be a great game.”

Kareem Abdul-Jabber noticed the uncanny resemblance between Brad Holland and Potsy Weber of the old “Happy Days” TV show. So Brad, a rookie in 1979-80, became the Lakers’ Potsy.

Holland had his big moment in the deciding game of the 1980 finals, at Philadelphia. With Abdul-Jabbar absent because of a sprained ankle, and Nixon injured, too, Potsy came out of cold storage and scored six ultra-clutch points in a Laker first-half comeback.

He and Kareem became close friends that season, the supposedly aloof veteran superstar reaching out in friendship to the awe-struck, bench-riding rookie. Kareem would save Holland a seat on bus rides, and they’d talk politics, literature, even religion, from their respective Muslim and born-again-Christian viewpoints.

“With Kareem at the free-throw line (Sunday), I was rooting so hard I can’t even tell you,” Holland says. “I’ve been out of the league six years and I was like a little kid. I’m on the floor, on the couch, all over the room. I told (his wife) Leslie, ‘Kareem hasn’t had a good game today, but I like him at the line. He has the ability to concentrate.’

“I find that I feel so involved right now. I have no money on the games; I think my involvement is because of my affection and respect for Magic and Kareem and (Michael) Cooper, the guys who were on the team when I played. I feel an emotional tie to the Lakers, definitely. I feel very appreciative that I was able to contribute a couple good years.

“I spent some emotions (Sunday). I felt very happy, and relieved. I felt like in the old days, when I was on the bench, only this time I knew I wasn’t going to get in.”

Holland is executive director of the National Athletic Health Institute, so his respect for Abdul-Jabbar, 41, is professional and emotional.

“I’m thirty -one, and when I play basketball, I hurt,” he says.

Every two or three years, Holland slips a cassette of that 1980 title-clinching game into his VCR. He watches Magic score 42 points . . . and Potsy keeps hitting those big baskets.

“My girls (twin daughters) are 6 1/2. They know daddy played once. Someday soon, I’m going to show them that game. ‘See, daddy did play for the Lakers.’ ”

Every trapeze team needs a flyer, the daring guy who finishes each routine with a flourish. Jamaal (Silk) Wilkes was the Lakers’ flyer, the fast-break finisher, the corner jump-shooter extraordinaire.

Remember Magic’s 42-point colossus of a game against Philly in 1980? Silk scored 37 that night, the biggest game of his life.

Like Nixon, Wilkes wound up being exiled to the Siberia Clippers, after the ‘84-85 season, only Wilkes opted for retirement.

He lives just down the street from the Forum, but it was a two years before he came back to watch his former teammates. Jamaal’s wife, Valerie, goes to many games, but Jamaal has been to only one this season, the opener of this series. He says he’ll be in the stands tonight, though.

“I still watch a lot of the games, on the tube. By nightfall, the business (involving real estate) I’m in now, I’m just wore out. I kick off my shoes and lounge in front of the tube. Partly it’s that I’m in a different groove now . . . “

Wilkes always brought an unruffled calm to the court. He refused to waste energy dunking the ball or crying about fouls. He didn’t play above the rim, he played above the fray. But now . . .

“I got nervous yesterday (watching Sunday’s game). I really was surprised. I got a little tense, yeah. I got a little tense. You sit back and enjoy it, and every now and then you let out a scream.”

Jamaal Wilkes, screaming? When he played, a big reaction by Silk was a raising of his eyebrow.

Jamaal sees his old teammates now and then, but it’s awkward. They’re still friends, but now in different worlds. On rare trips back to the Forum, sitting among the fans, well, that’s awkward, too. He has never stopped by the locker room as a civilian.

“We’re living together (as a team), then we’re not living together. Your interests change, you don’t call up and chit-chat anymore. The reality is, it’s a different relationship and I’m moving in a different direction. We just don’t have that much in common anymore.”

But tonight . . .

“I’ll get there early, get myself a beer or a Coke, a hot dog, settle down and watch ‘em roll.”