Comets’ Loss Bigger Than Sparks’ Win

At first it appeared the most telling evidence of the magnitude of Kim Perrot’s death could simply be found on the faces of the Houston Comets as they walked into their locker room before Friday night’s game against the Sparks at the Great Western Forum.

They looked as if they had just heard about Perrot succumbing to lung cancer on the bus ride from the hotel, even though they’d had a full day to digest the news of her death Thursday afternoon.

Heavy bags hung beneath their red eyes. Trudged would be the only appropriate verb to describe the way they moved.

This was sad. Deeper and more painful than anything we’re used to seeing in the suck-it-up, take-it-as-it-comes world of professional sports.

And then it got worse.

During the pregame layup line, Comet center Tina Thompson stopped. Right in the middle of Houston’s side of the court. She just couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything other than the sadness. She was crying, leaning her head on the shoulder of superstar Cynthia Cooper.

Cooper was wearing street clothes. It took all she had just to make the trip from Houston, and she didn’t even arrive in Los Angeles until a couple of hours before game time. Suiting up would be asking too much.

After injuries, there are two acceptable excuses for professional athletes to miss games.

The birth of a child (especially when, in the case of someone like Sheryl Swoopes, the athlete is the one actually giving birth) is one.

The death of a family member or close friend is the other.

Perrot was the person who helped Cooper cope with the loss of her mother to cancer last year. Now Cooper had to cope with Perrot’s death.

It wasn’t only Cooper who had a right to take the night off. The whole team could be excused. “We just lost a dear friend, a teammate, someone we love,” backup center Tammy Jackson said.

There are times when the games don’t seem to matter, when reality intrudes so deeply into the playpen that the only sensible thing is to postpone or cancel.

That’s what the Colorado Rockies did in the wake of the the shootings at Columbine High this year. The Colorado Avalanche even gave up the first two home games in the midst of the NHL playoffs and went to San Jose. No one complained.

And no one should have complained if the Comets wanted to put this one off, if they looked at each other in the locker room, said “We can’t do this” and told everyone to come back tomorrow.

But they played, perhaps because there was no decision they could make that would ease the pain.

“What choices do you have?” Comet Coach Van Chancellor said. “What do you do if you go home?”

And perhaps they played because it was one last gift Perrot gave them.

“You can’t take away the energy she brought to this team, the love she’s brought to this team,” Jackson said.

They were down to their last few ounces of energy Friday. They looked stunned, as if the end had come out of the blue for Perrot, in a car crash or drive-by shooting or some other completely random event.

You would not have known they have had six months to brace for the possibility, ever since Perrot was diagnosed with cancer in February and doctors discovered a golf ball-size tumor in her brain. And they had to know death was imminent when she returned to Houston a week ago. She had been undergoing alternative treatments in Mexico, but recently her condition worsened. When the end came Thursday it still was shocking.

“I thought I was ready,” Chancellor said. “I had geared up for this.

“But I just ain’t ready for it.”

It’s possible the Comets could not conceive Perrot losing anything. All she had done in the two seasons she spent with them was win. She won a spot on the team, won the hearts of the fans and won championships. Two years of playing, two rings.

We’ve learned a lot about courage and heart this year. We’ve learned from Sean Elliott, who spent most of his career being accused of being “soft”, then helped the San Antonio Spurs win the NBA championship despite a failing kidney that required a transplant. We’ve learned from Lance Armstrong conquering the Tour de France after beating testicular cancer.

And we’ve learned from a 5-foot-5 woman nicknamed Pee Wee. Perrot wasn’t even supposed to make the team, when the Comets held their first training camp in 1997. She wound up the starting point guard.

She made about 100 speaking appearances even after she was diagnosed with the disease. She encouraged people to pursue their dreams, no matter what the obstacles.

Even in death she accomplished the improbable, setting up a series of rarely seen events.

Opposing players embraced before a game, when the Sparks walked over to give the Comets bracelets in a show of support.

There were tears along press row, that haven of cynicism, during a video tribute to Perrot at halftime.

And the Comets actually looked in better spirits leaving the court after their hard-fought, 68-64 loss to the Sparks than they did before the game.

With all that they’ve been through, the preceding two hours were probably the easiest part of their day.

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J.A. Adande can be reached at his e-mail address: j.a.adande@latimes.com