They’ll Cross Fridge When They Come to It

April 9, 2002. Dodgers shut out the Giants in San Francisco for their first loss of the season; Barry Bonds grounds out in a crucial at-bat to end the eighth inning. Vin Scully welcomes back his basketball equivalent. And at Staples Center, the Lakers put the game “in the refrigerator” with a 112-82 victory over the Jazz, thanks to the help of Shaq, Kobe and, of course, Chick Hearn.

Another perfect day. I love L.A.

Daniel Campos

South Pasadena

*

Before Tuesday’s Laker game against the Jazz, I bought a six-pack of soda, which I put in the refrigerator.

I checked my stock quotes, which seemed to be going up and down all day like a yo-yo on a string. It was cold that morning and I noticed my clothesline was broken. Darn frozen rope.

I fed the dog. He chowed the whole bowl down. He hadn’t eaten like that since Hector was a pup.

About noon, I stopped by 7-Eleven and bought some lunch. A woman listening to her Walkman didn’t notice me and came hippity-hopping in my direction, like she was doing the bunny hop in the pea patch, and knocked the mustard off the hot dog.

After the game, I called it a night and I always make sure the doors are closed and the lights are out. That was a hectic day. As I went to bed I noticed my Yahtzee was missing. I gotta play Yahtzee before bed. Where did I put it? I went downstairs to look for it and, silly me, the game was in the refrigerator! At least the Lakers won.

Hector Reyes

Arleta

*

I’d like to thank Paul Sunderland for his class and excellent play-by-play work accomplished under a tremendous media microscope and in the shadow of a broadcasting legend. We Laker fans should not be so myopic as to think Chickie Baby will be in the booth forever, but it is reassuring to know that the future of Laker broadcasts is in very good hands.

Just as the Laker mantle was passed from Elgin and Jerry to Magic and Kareem to Kobe and Shaq, so must we face this inevitability. There will never be another Chick Hearn, but certainly Paul Sunderland has replaced Manny Mota as the greatest pinch-hitter in Los Angeles sports history.

Ken Morris

Inglewood

*

In response to those who sing the praises of Paul Sunderland, please. He is boring and a sycophant. He makes far more mistakes than Chick does, and he has no personality, probably because he spends his time fawning over others. To borrow from Gertrude Stein, “There is no there there.”

Cynthia K. Short

Pasadena