Finally, It’s One Mo-Time

This one was for everybody back in Motortown. This one was for everybody who paid hard cash during hard times, for everybody who followed the bouncing ball from Ft. Wayne, Ind., to Detroit, to Pontiac, Mich., to Auburn Hills, for everybody who waited and waited and waited--from 1941 to 1989--for a team named after an engine part to finally sit in professional basketball’s driver’s seat.

This one was for suffering coaches from Red Rocha to Donnis Butcher to Herb Brown to Scotty Robertson. This one was for suffering players from Sweetwater Clifton to Otto Moore to Kevin Porter to Kelly Tripucka. This one was for suffering fans who had not seen a Detroit team win the championship of any major sport, other than baseball, since the Lions won the National Football League title in 1957.

Mo-time.

“This one’s for everybody who ever played a part in this,” Isiah Thomas said between kisses and hugs in the Piston dressing room Tuesday night at the Forum after his team polished off the Lakers in four straight, 105-97, Mo-time over Showtime. “You try to win a trophy, you get knocked down, knocked out, banged up, you fire coaches, you hire new players, you change stadiums, you just keep plugging and plugging and pray that your day will finally come.

“I’m just so--what can I say?-- proud to be part of the first Piston team ever to win a championship. And to beat great people like the Lakers, I’m . . . I’m just . . . I’m just overwhelmed.”

So was Mark Aguirre, who broke down crying, wiping his eyes and then needlessly apologizing for it, saying: “I don’t know why I’m doing this. This is the happiest day of my life. Why am I crying? I guess I’m crying because I never thought this was going to happen for me.”

And he doubled over until he could hardly speak.

John Salley could speak. John Salley was born speaking. John Salley got his hands on the golden trophy that represented the championship, cradled it and kept stroking it, on and on and on, never letting go, talking to it, sometimes like a lover, sometimes like a daddy to a baby.

“Yo, baby, how you doing?” Salley whispered to the trophy, running his hand across the golden basketball-shaped end, planting tiny kisses all over it. “Looking good, baby. You want to come home with me tonight? Yes, you do. Yes, you do. Gimme little kiss, c’mon now.”

Some of the other Pistons watched him with ever-widening eyes.

“Y’all seen my gal here?” Salley asked. “C’mon, kiss my gal.”

Bill Laimbeer did.

“C’mon, give her some sugar,” Salley said.

Rick Mahorn did.

“Sal-Sal’s got himself a trophy, don’t he?” Salley said, hugging it even tighter than before.

Mo-time.

Boston has its banners dangling from the ceiling. Philadelphia has its retired jerseys. The Lakers have their Magic moments, not to mention their Wilt and Jerry and Kareem moments.

What do the Pistons have?

They have a lot of background and little to show for it. They have 32 years invested in Detroit’s city and suburbs alone, but it took them until 1988 just to make it as far as the NBA finals. And yet they have as loyal a following as any club in the league, regularly topping the NBA in attendance, even becoming the first franchise to draw a million fans in one season.

How loyal are these Mo-men and Mo-women?

Not only did the Pistons defeat the Lakers Tuesday night, they outdrew them.

That’s right. The attendance at the Forum was 17,505, a sellout. The attendance at the Palace of Auburn Hills--just to watch the game on big-screen TV--was 21,454, also a sellout.

Mo-time.

This one was for everybody with Detroit connections, both home and away. It was for Thomas (I Got Robbed) Hearns, who dropped by one night after his controversial fight. It was for Adrian (I Got . . .) Dantley, who, like Hearns, felt he deserved a better deal. It was for Lee (Have I Got a Deal for You) Iacocca, who watched from courtside. It was for Rick (I’m Gonna Git You, Sucka) Mahorn, who won the Laker vote as the Dirtiest Player Alive.

This one was for Leon (the Barber) Bradley, the most annoying fan in the NBA, who has spent much of the last three decades sitting right behind the bench of Piston opponents, ragging on them something awful. This one was for the gone-but-not-forgotten “Classy Chassis,” the only cheerleading squad in NBA history, we believe, to perform in stiletto heels.

Piston history? There isn’t much else to tell. Do you know how many Detroit Pistons have been named to NBA postseason All-Star teams--first or second five--since 1963? Two: Dave Bing and Isiah Thomas. Know how many Detroiters have been NBA coach of the year? One: Ray Scott, 1974. Know how many Detroit Pistons have made the NBA’s All-Defense first five? None.

So, how did this become a championship team? Through hard work and, apropos for a Motor City business, by making good deals. Also, lest we forget, Detroit deserved its 1989 NBA title because with all the attention paid to L.A.’s injuries, the Pistons survived Thomas’ hamstring pull, Laimbeer’s pinched nerve, Dennis Rodman’s back spasms and Michael Jordan’s basket spasms.

They were stereotyped as a “lunch-pail,” blue-collar team, even though they play in one of the nation’s wealthiest counties and have a millionaire’s son at center. It was the usual starting lineup of the Lakers that hailed from Lansing, Mich.; Gastonia, N.C., Portland, Ore., New York and Inglewood, but why not perpetuate old notions until the very end, as when Brent Musburger casually announced, before Tuesday’s game, that: “No team plays with as much pride as the Lakers.” Oh, is that a fact?

The Pistons went out the way they came in, making fun of their own reputation.

“Bad Boys!” they sang in the locker room, turning it almost into a chant. “Bad Boys! Bad Boys! Bad Boys!”

These guys weren’t bad. They were good.

And brace yourself, because they expect to be back.

Because you know what they want.

One Mo.

AND SO IT GOES

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar is ready to start civilian life. Mark Heisler’s story, Page 3.

CAR WITH 2 WHEELS

Lakers can only wonder what if. Scott Howard-Cooper’s story, Page 4.