Supporting Cast Helps Their Leading Man

After months of shaking and listening, shaking and listening, the city opened its purple-and-gold Laker present Friday night and out popped . . .

Derek Fisher?

Byron Scott?

Eddie Jones?

More than 17,000 in partying moods showed up at the Forum expecting crystal, and instead received china.

They held their breath waiting for Shaquille O’Neal to dominate. And waiting. And waiting.

Before he finished off the Phoenix Suns in the Lakers’ season-opening 96-82 victory, it was his lesser-known teammates who had the run of the joint.

On what Coach Del Harris had earlier compared to Christmas Day, it was a watch instead of a necklace.

It was socks instead of a tie.

It was nice, but, uh, what should one do with it?

Our advice is, enjoy.

On a night O’Neal was not a highlight film, he was something far more important. Something resembling a championship video.

He makes everybody better.

Since O’Neal signed July 18, that phrase has been repeated as much as “How dare Hollywood Park charge us 10 bucks to park!”

But on this first of many too-short nights in a too-crowded arena, the phrase was real.

Beginning with the 34 kids he treated to tickets and photographs before the game--”The Shaq Paq” will be convening at every home game--the star attraction spent a couple of hours clearing the dance floor and directing the band.

(Well, OK, he knocked the opening tip to Gardena, and scored the Lakers’ first points on a dunk, and dove into photographers a couple of times, and that was cool.)

(And, well, with 11:12 remaining in the third quarter, he tried and made his first two free throw attempts, which was way cool.)

(Don’t forget a big fourth-quarter dunk, and blocked shot that nearly skulled Jack Nicholson.)

But generally he picked the rebounds, set the picks, threw the passes and drew the attention, allowing everyone else to do that thing they do.

The first beneficiary was Derek Fisher, which led to the evening’s first question.

Who is Derek Fisher?

Turns out, he was the Lakers first-round draft pick, a guard who spent the last four years starring for the Trojans.

No, not those Trojans, although to see one in an NBA uniform would have really made the evening stranger.

No, Fisher played at Arkansas Little Rock, where he obviously learned to throw out his chest and throw up the rock and forget that ornery bald veterans--in this case Sam Cassell--are breathing on him during the entire experience.

Fisher replaced foul-plagued Nick Van Exel less than three minutes into the game. By the time he had broken a sweat, he had thrown in a three-point basket, and a running seven-footer.

Which were followed by a left-handed, behind-the-back pass that Cedric Ceballos dunked on a fast break. (Former Little Rock residents are awful good at those left-handed, behind-the-back passes, don’t you think?)

Which was topped by a first-half-ending 19-footer that he drained over Cassell in the final seconds.

By then, Fisher was a candidate for Van Exel’s next shove, as he had outscored the starter 10-0, and finished by outscoring him, 12-2.

Memo to Jerry West: Feel free to share anything else you are hiding in those deep pockets.

Then there was Byron Scott.

My favorite Laker.

Last year, my favorite Vancouver Grizzly.

Judging by the response he has received in the preseason and Friday--the phrase “delirious, throat-stretching ovation” comes to mind--he is also your favorite Laker.

In his first regular-season game as a Laker after a two-year absence, this 11-year Laker veteran entered the game midway through the first quarter and clanked and clanked and kept shooting until he made a three-point basket early in the third period.

He made several more shots while providing the sort of “Everybody calm down, OK?” attitude that this team so desperately needs.

This what Laker fans love about Scott. He appreciates the value of clanking and clanking.

“I never thought opening games were a big deal,” he said before this one. “But now I know exactly what it means, what it is worth. It is a big deal.”

Playing a season in a hockey country with Big Country will do that to you.

Finally, there was Eddie Jones.

Quiet until the fourth quarter. Then the charging Suns began hanging on O’Neal, and Jones became the loudest man in the house.

A three-pointer. A dunk. Another three-pointer. A victory.

“All summer, every question I got from people was, ‘How’s Shaq?’ ” Scott said with a laugh. “Every other question was, ‘Are you going to win?’ ”

So far, fine, and yes.