What Happened? Plenty, All of It Bad

What happened? Where did that 13-point lead go? Who woke up Michael Jordan--and why? How did Chicago screw up Vlade Divac’s night of nights? Who is Cliff Levingston and what got into him? Where did the guys from the Laker bench go? Where did Byron Scott’s shooting touch go? Where do the Lakers go from here? What happened?

One minute, we were sitting here at the Forum watching Magic Johnson turning Divac into his main squeeze . . . and Vlade blowing kisses to all his friends in the United States of America and abroad . . . and Jordan stubbing his big toe . . . and Scottie Pippen fouling out . . . and the Lakers looking for all the world like the winners of Game 3 of the NBA finals.

A few minutes later, we were sitting here at the Forum watching Elden Campbell entering the game for the first time . . . and Jordan making a revolving-door layup (degree of difficulty: 9.8 on scale of 10) . . . and Horace Grant shooting one that went in and out and in and out and in . . . and Divac fouling out . . . and Magic saying good night with an airball . . . and the Lakers looking for somebody to ask: What happened?

“We killed ourselves,” Magic Johnson said.

That’s what happened.

Wounded, actually. Not killed. But wounded. Self-inflicted. Hurt by a bench that contributed six points to a 53-minute game of basketball. Hurt by a starting guard who scored no points in 43 minutes. Hurt by a big bunch of Chicago Bullies who outrebounded them by 17. And hurt terribly by not beating the Bulls on one of those rare nights when Michael Jordan is merely another player.

For four quarters, the one thing that was working in L.A.’s favor was that Chicago Coach Phil Jackson was getting a poor effort from Pippen’s, Grant’s, John Paxson’s and Bill Cartwright’s supporting cast. When you’ve got Air Jordan air-balling lay-ups, you had better do more than just beat the Bulls. You had better gore them.

But Jackson’s five turned it into a thriller. There they were, on the wrong end of an 18-2 run that left them 13 points behind in the Lakers’ building, and about the only way they were going to win this game was if Mike Dunleavy pulled his starters for, oh, a minute or two and watched his suddenly useless substitutes (A.C. Green excluded) squander the whole 13 points.

Didn’t happen.

What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. Jackson turned to the people on Chicago’s bench and said: “Mr. Levingston, I presume.” And this happy-go-lucky guy who always looks as cheerful as a child inside a sandbox stepped onto the court and started to enjoy himself thoroughly.

Cliff Levingston is the guy who places his hand atop the other Bulls’ hands before every tipoff, in the hallway outside the locker room, and shouts: “What time is it?”

And they say: “Game time!”

And Cliff says: “ What time is it?”

And they say: “ Game time!”

And then five of them rush onto the court to do battle, while all Cliff gets to do is find his seat with the rest of the sitting Bulls and sit there waiting for a chance to play. He’s all dressed up with no place to go. It’s game time and he can’t wait to get into the game.

Well, this time he got into it, and about the worst mistake Phil Jackson made all night was taking Levingston out of it. With the score 88-84, right after Levingston had dunked one basket and tipped in another, the coach couldn’t resist telling Grant to replace him. Grant deserved to play, and played well. But once Levingston went out, the Lakers nearly won.

“His defense glued us together,” Jackson said.

“He deserves the game’s MVP,” Jordan suggested.

“The Cliff man,” Grant said.

And while the Bulls were justifiably celebrating, all you could do was wonder why Divac wasn’t the one having his back patted, why he wasn’t the man of the hour, why nobody around the Lakers’ lockers was saying: “The Vlade man.” Because this night could have been his, should have been his.

Not only will his shots and blocks and rebounds and drives past Jordan and memorable almost-game-winner be soon forgotten, but who will remember the way Divac nearly saved Game 3 for Los Angeles by sinking the free throw that made the score 92-90, while everybody was still so buzzed about the basket itself. Had Divac botched the freebie, the Lakers might not have even made it into overtime.

He can’t explain what happened. Nobody can explain what happened. Jordan happened. Grant happened. The Bulls happened. Sunday will be the Lakers’ next chance to make something else happen, and here’s a suggestion: Don’t think they’ve won it until they’ve won it.