ESPN

It's a very happy day for Los Angeles fans, as someone so intricately woven into the fabric of this city's sports culture will be the face of a civic treasure.

Will the new Dodgers ownership group, fronted by Magic Johnson and led on the baseball side by former Braves and Nationals president Stan Kasten, bring L.A. it's first World Series title since '88? I have no idea. Nor is the deal perfect, since it seems like Frank McCourt will have some stake in the parking lots around the stadium (the man likes parking lots).

Still, the evening's news should go a long way to blowing out the dark clouds hanging over the franchise.

ESPNLA has launched a Sweet 16, Los Angeles-style. The most beloved figures in L.A. sports history. As you can imagine, there are one or six Lakers in the bracket. Make sure you drop by and vote.

Vote here: The Most Beloved.

Earlier this season, we commemorated the 20th anniversary of Magic Johnson's iconic press conference in which he told the world he had HIV. Sunday night, ESPN Films debuts "The Announcement," a documentary examining that day, one enduring not only a landmark moment in Los Angeles sports history, but a signpost moment in American culture generally.

Ahead of the premiere, we had a chance this week to speak with director Nelson George. We talked his memories of that day, of returning to the Forum Club with Magic as part of the production, Karl Malone, how Magic changed the way Americans look at HIV, and what the world of HIV awareness and prevention might look like had Magic never contracted the virus.

Even though it's been nearly 10 years since Michael Jordan played his last All-Star game in 2003, you couldn't watch this year's All-Star game in Orlando without getting a heavy dose of MJ nostalgia. The Lakers' Kobe Bryant had a lot to do with that, as he pushed his career All-Star scoring total to 271 points, passing Jordan for most points in All-Star game history (Jordan had 262 points in 14 selections; Bryant has played in 14 All-Star games as well).

Jordan was also recognized as one of the stars who was out-dueled by Magic Johnson in Orlando 20 years ago when Magic made his memorable one-game MVP return to the All-Star game after announcing his retirement because of HIV months before.

And if you watched the commercials, instead of flipping back and forth between the All-Star game and the Oscars, you would have noticed Jordan in a new ad for Gatorade featuring former Bulls and Lakers coach Phil Jackson reflecting on Jordan's "flu game" in Game 5 of the 1997 NBA Finals against the Utah Jazz. (Click here to watch the commercial.)

ESPNLA.com was on the set of the commercial shoot at the Walter Pyramid on the campus of Long Beach State back in December and had a chance for a 1-on-1 chat with Jackson about his memories of Jordan's performance with the flu.



ESPNLA.com: When you think back on all the significant games you coached, where does Jordan’s “flu game” rank? On the set, you said something to the effect of, "We know he can score 40, we know he can get triple-doubles, but this stands out because it’s more than that."

Jackson: “Yeah, the big thing was we knew that coming back and playing in Salt Lake was going to be a difficult thing, as it always is in the playoffs. That team was talented and they were good at home. So, after winning two in Chicago, we said, ‘Let’s go out and make sure we win one game out there in Salt Lake.’ We didn’t want to come back [to Chicago] behind 3-2 in a series like that. We lost the second game [in Utah] at the end of the ballgame in a close game.

"Perhaps Michael was doing too much. I can’t remember what his totals were in that ballgame, but he made a spin at the top of the key and [John] Stockton stole the ball and it set up a win for them that we shoulda, coulda won.

(Editor’s note: Jordan finished with 22 points on 11-for-27 shooting in Game 4.)

"So, it was a really a hard defeat. I remember having really a sleepless night that night. I was meeting the owner the next day and I was just really fatigued about it. That mental fatigue that you have after a loss that you think you’re going to win and you don’t sleep very much at night thinking about it. Then, we had a little time to recover and it came down to this game, we ought to take this one home and then the disappointment of finding out on game day that the guy that’s the superstar on our team didn’t sleep, was sick, felt like crap, didn’t feel like he could eat, was nauseous and wasn’t going to go to shootaround. That’s happened before. Guys have felt like they couldn’t go to shootaround. It’s not like the end of the world. But this was a pivotal game and then when we saw him and we saw what he looked like …"

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When Kobe Bryant passed Shaquille O'Neal to become the NBA's fifth all-time leading scorer, it prompted a flurry of debates about his place in basketball history, but also his ranking among great Lakers, as in this video with ESPN's Tim Legler.

I don't love his list -- Wilt Chamberlain (Legler's #4) fits better among the five greatest players in NBA history than the five best greatest Lakers -- and Jerry West, excluded by Legler, should be in the top 5. Still, there are two big notables. First, Legler has Magic Johnson ahead of Kobe Bryant for the top spot, but admits there is subjectivity and historical bias in play. Namely, Magic is elevated not just by his accomplishments but also Legler's respect for the NBA though the 1980's.

Johnson tops my list, too, but I've long thought the G.L.O.A.T debate is generational. For fans, say, 35 and over, it's tough to put anyone ahead of Magic, just as it was likely tough for the previous era to put Magic ahead of West. In time, though, I suspect more often than not Kobe will land at the top, because more "voters" will come the pool of fans who grew up watching him, and only know Magic from highlight reels.

Second, lists like these reinforce the almost absurd levels of success and star power of the Lakers' franchise, historically speaking. Pundits and fans alike routinely assemble Top 5's like this one, and Hall of Famers James Worthy and Gail Goodrich don't get a sniff. For many -- maybe most -- there's no room to squeeze in Elgin Baylor. Elgin Baylor!

Pretty incredible.

It was a lively day in the chat-o-sphere, as one would expect with an erratic road trip halfway in the books.

Among the talking points were potential trade targets (Rondo, Sessions, Howard, etc.), the role of Andrew Goudelock upon Steve Blake's return and Mike Brown's rotations. Plus, fare thee well, Derrick Caracter.

For those who couldn't attend, here's a link to the transcript.

"No. It was inevitable."

This was Kobe Bryant's response when recently asked if it will mean anything to him to pass Shaquille's O'Neal place on the all-time scoring list. In some ways, this can be taken as little more than a matter-of-fact statement. Bryant's been putting up 20-30 points a night throughout the overwhelming majority of his career, a campaign now 16 seasons strong. Sustained excellence for so long does in fact make these achievements feel like a matter of "when" rather than "if." In that respect, Kobe was presenting the facts, and little more.

But contextually, this milestone represents more than just yet another player exhaling Bryant's dust as he climbs the list. Passing Shaq was inevitable in Bryant's mind, and on every level, before he was old enough to drink a beer. And this doesn't just apply to The Diesel, but any other past or future NBA Hall of Famer. It's a mindset that defines Kobe. It also famously helped lay the foundation for a push-and-pull between the big man and wunderkind respectively imported and drafted by Jerry West as championship run building blocks. This vision resulted in three consecutive titles, but not without enough infighting and drama to fuel the entire run of "The Young and the Restless."

At the core of their issues was a mutual belief in themselves as the Lakers' best player. This consistently divided front made it seemingly impossible for fans and media to accept them as a duo of equal importance, even in the face of spellbinding teamwork and the obvious ways they complemented each other. Similar to today's political landscape or "Aniston vs. Jolie," taking sides became a national -- and seemingly mandatory -- pastime. And most fans and media jumped on "Team O'Neal." Shaq was older (if not necessarily more mature and certainly every bit a pain in the butt as Kobe could be). He was more established. He was also a big man like no other the league had ever seen, while Kobe was the latest wing player forced to play "Is the next MJ?" Phil Jackson typically -- and publicly -- sided with O'Neal as a means of maintaining order in a veteran locker room leaning in that direction to begin with. And yes, the Lakers' offense was in fact built around Shaq.

Do these factors offset entirely how Kobe's presence created more freedom for O'Neal to operate, and countless games closed out by the younger, springer guard with the more reliable free throw stroke? In the real world, of course not. But the world of sports debates are typically framed in black and white terms, which is their beauty and curse. On one hand, "pick one or other other" naturally lends itself to passion, the essential ingredient to every great barroom or barbershop discussion. On the other, nuance, gray areas and context typically have no use here. The goal is to make an "all or nothing" case, and more often than not, Kobe received bupkis.

By the time the time O'Neal was shipped to Miami, the narrative of those championship teams "belonging to Shaq" was basically written in stone. Even with three rings decorating his fingers, Kobe was being asked to prove he could win a championship. And back-to-back titles as a team's undisputed leader still hasn't resulted in popular sentiment awarding Bryant greater "possession" of his first three. Even as someone who blurred the lines between first and second option more than any player in recent NBA history, Kobe remains the "sidekick" in most storybooks. For some, he's just short of a dude along for the ride. Narratives, if allowed to stand for long enough, have a way of becoming history, even if the math is a little fuzzy.

But here's the thing. Even if history persists where those teams "belonged" to Shaq, Kobe owns something larger and perhaps just as impressive.

The Laker franchise.

To whatever degree it can be owned by a player, Kobe does, and more so than anybody besides perhaps West or Magic Johnson. By the time Bryant hangs up his sneakers for good, he'll possibly end up the most "Laker" Laker of any great who ever wore the uniform. And there are a lotta greats who've been a part of this organization. Including Shaquille O'Neal, whose career in purple and gold was pretty exceptional. His number will eventually, and deservedly, be retired, and his time in L.A. will never be forgotten. But his Laker career nonetheless won't resonate in franchise history the same way Kobe's undoubtedly will. That's something Bryant can take to the bank. Even if Shaq gets more credit until the end of time for those three championships, he'll never be remembered the same way as Bryant, despite his best efforts to dominate their co-opted spotlight.

In this sense, it's fitting Bryant passed O'Neal in the first half of tonight's game, the go-ahead bucket a long catch-and-shoot deuce off Matt Barnes' feed. Bryant was never big on waiting behind O'Neal to begin forging his iconic career. Should anybody have expected a leisurely pace while passing him in career achievement?

Why drag out the inevitable any longer than necessary, you know?

The death of heavyweight legend Joe Frazier has naturally prompted considerable conversation about Muhammad Ali. Intense rivals, the two fought on three occasions, the first a victory for Frazier, and each match is regarded as a classic. The barbs Ali tossed at Frazier were outside the lines and below the belt. Ali's presence overshadowed Frazier's, but ultimately help create a foundation for the latter's legacy. They are permanently intertwined.

Monday also marked the 20th anniversary of Magic Johnson's HIV press conference, and while the remembrance of this milestone obviously didn't center around a rivalry with Larry Bird, that chapter of Magic's life also wasn't ignored. We've been reminded of how Magic selected few friends to learn about his situation from him rather than the media, Bird among them. Plus, HIV prompted his retirement, which in turn prompted reflection, and it's impossible to remember Magic's career without Bird entering the picture. The two are synonymous, which added a wonderful layer to an already iconic story.

Thinking about Frazier/Ali and Magic/Bird, I was reminded of how Kobe Bryant, despite 15 unforgettable seasons under his belt, never really enjoyed a legitimate rivalry. Unless you count the one with Shaq, but that hardly qualifies in this context. As teammates, their quarrels were depressing and counterproductive, even acknowledging the championships. As ex-teammates, the war of words has largely been one-sided, with Shaq dragging himself through the mud by refusing to let go. Either way, it's hardly been inspirational.

From there, it's hard to peg exactly who Kobe's rival would be.

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There were many standout moments at Monday's Staples Center news conference commemorating the 20th anniversary of Magic Johnson's retirement, not the least of which was the check for $1 million presented to his foundation. Johnson spoke of that day two decades ago, when he announced HIV would force him out of the game. He spoke of how he coped and the optimism he felt in the face of what many believed a death sentence. He talked about his health, advancements in treatment and the people to whom he feels indebted for helping him stay healthy. Magic thanked his wife and family, and noted the obligations he feels as the face of HIV not only in this country, but abroad.

But on a day filled with remembrances of a landmark moment in American culture and sports history, one small moment best defined the magnetism of Magic. After delivering his speech and fielding questions from the assembled media for more than 20 minutes, Magic invited the former Lakers in the crowd to join him on stage for a picture. Jerry West, Pat Riley, Michael Cooper, James Worthy, Mychal Thompson, Kurt Rambis and Mike Dunleavy. He noticed Lakers trainer Gary Vitti in the crowd, and called him up, too.

"I said all Lakers," Magic instructed.

Quietly, Lakers P.R. director John Black walked past the stage, and whispered something to Magic. "Of course, Bill Sharman," Magic declared, pointing to the legendary former coach and basketball pioneer seated maybe five rows deep. Come on up.

Sharman is 85 years old, and moving from crowd to stage isn't an instant process. It could have been awkward had another man controlled the microphone. Magic, always the floor general, instantly recognized the situation and started into a story about a free-throw shooting competition he once engaged in with Sharman. He hit 15 or 16 in a row, and was summarily dusted when Sharman stepped to the stripe.

It was a quick anecdote, maybe 90 seconds, and I suspect most people won't remember the details. But because Magic so successfully worked the room, they also won't remember the difficulties Sharman had negotiating the steps up to the stage, or the people moving there to help him. Suddenly, he was there in the front row, and the photo op continued.

That's Magic Johnson.

E:60 looks at the 20th anniversary of Magic Johnson's retirement.

Nov. 7, 1991.

I was on USC's campus, taking a walk down Trousdale Parkway. I don't recall whether I was headed to class or the Commons (where students typically congregate) looking for an excuse to ditch. What I do remember is that I hadn't been in front of a television or radio all day.

I ran into a friend, an L.A. native, whose typically laid-back body language had been shattered. I asked what was wrong, and he dropped a bombshell.

Magic Johnson was retiring because he tested positive for HIV. When my friend heard the news earlier from another friend, he'd been wearing a No. 32 Lakers jersey.

For a few minutes, it felt like the world stood still and my school had grown quiet.

I was a sophomore and had only been living in L.A. about a year, meaning I'd yet to become fully engulfed in my Lakers fandom. I also grew up in St. Louis, a city that lost the now-Atlanta Hawks four years before I was born, meaning it was hardly a hotbed of NBA culture. Obviously, I'd seen Magic Johnson play many times. But geography dictated more football, baseball and hockey watched than basketball as a kid and teenager.

Still, the news absolutely rocked me. The gravity of this moment was about more than the premature end of an iconic athlete's career. It was a cultural and societal game-changer. A new face had just been attached to a disease still carrying so many unknowns and prejudices. At the time, HIV and AIDS were thought of as afflictions primarily reserved for gay men, drug users and those outside the mainstream. For many, it was easy to cast those types aside and dismiss any vulnerability toward a similar fate. HIV may have been taken seriously, but for many, it remained somebody else's problem.

Magic, however, was beloved, so much so that some of the reporters covering his news conference actually cried. America had no choice but to view the disease with a sobering new perspective. As Johnson said that day, if he could test positive, we were all susceptible.

I've always felt that Magic's announcement was my generation's JFK moment, powerful enough to make the world feel different, and you don't forget where you were upon such a realization. I recently talked with longtime Lakers trainer Gary Vitti, who had been assigned the task of herding Magic's teammates to a meeting where he would reveal his illness. Unable to share details, he simply said the meeting was "gonna change all our lives."

Vitti was right.

Amazingly, what felt like an announcement of death in 1991 has evolved into a signpost for inspiration. He's done important work as an HIV and AIDS activist, while providing an example of how the disease can be managed and lived with. The advantages provided to a man of Magic's economic means are apparent, as well as the battle still ahead for millions dealing with this disease. But there's no denying the hope he's provided over the last 20 years. Initially viewed as living on borrowed time, he's since flourished in health and wealth, launching successful businesses across previously ignored areas of L.A. and turning virtually everything he touched into gold.

He may be remembered first with a basketball his hand, but I'd argue Magic's life has been far more influential after his career ended.

"Listen, I can't tell you what's going on. Just be there. This is gonna change all of our lives."

These were the words of Lakers head athletic trainer Gary Vitti as he instructed members of the 1992 Lakers to attend a mandatory meeting at the Forum on November 7, 1991. Among a select few sworn to secrecy, Vitti couldn't reveal the reason: Magic Johnson needed to tell his teammates about testing HIV-positive. Shortly after, Johnson would tell the world.

The day did change lives, and well beyond those in the Laker family.

With Monday marking the 20th anniversary of Magic's unforgettable press conference, I met with Vitti at the Lakers' training facility in El Segundo for his thoughts on the day and its significance. The two have been close friends since 1984 and despite having talked about this period countless times, Vitti still gets choked up reliving it. The details and emotions shared make this podKast truly worth a listen.

You can hear the entire show here, and below is a breakdown of talking points:

(:08) - Vitti's and Johnson's relationship was initially distant, then a bit contentious after the trainer felt the point guard gave him a "snotty answer" to a question. Johnson quickly explained via a smile and a bear he was only kidding around. "That was the moment we bonded," explained Vitti of a friendship now grown exceptionally strong.

(3:13) - Vitti actually figured out Magic contracted the HIV virus before being formally told. The Lakers were in Utah for an exhibition game against the Jazz, and Magic, who'd been experiencing fatigue, was told he urgently needed to return to L.A., no questions asked. Everybody was in the dark and the mystery ate at Vitti. "I just couldn't let it go," says the trainer of the undisclosed issue. "All of a sudden Magic has to go home. It can't be good, right?"

After wracking his brain for days, he suddenly remembered during a game against the Jazz that Magic had taken a physical for a life insurance policy. The light bulb went off, and keeping it together while on the job was a nightmare task.

"That game, Tony Smith, was a second year guard," recalls Vitti. He was having a great training camp and he severely sprained his ankle. Third degree ankle sprain. And he's laying on the table in the training room at the Delta Center and he's very, very upset. He's in tears. And I grab him by the shirt and I say, 'What are you crying about? Because the injury hurts? Or are you crying because you're depressed?' And he just sort of shakes his head. And I said, 'Well, you're gonna get better. You're gonna get better. Some people aren't.'

"No idea what I'm talking about. He looks at me like I've got three heads."

In many ways, however, knowing was just as bad as not knowing. Vitti could tell nobody -- even his wife -- which meant lying to the faces of people like then-head coach Mike Dunleavy about Magic having the flu. Thus, he often had to carry this emotional weight alone.

"We thought it was a death sentence," admits Vitti. "At some point, I'm gonna lose one of my close friends. And not just lose him, but he's gonna whither away in a horrible death."

-(10:15) Thankfully, Magic was around to talk Vitti off the ledge. Crazy as it sounds, that's essentially what happened when the two finally discussed Johnson's diagnosis. Vitti was "a wreck" and Magic remained positive, promising his friend he'd be just fine.

"I don't want you to worry about me," Johnson told Vitti. "When God gave me this disease, he gave it to the right person. I'm gonna do something really good with this. I'm gonna beat this."

Vitti collected himself enough to pledge unwavering support.

"I said, 'I'm with you all the way. To the end. Whatever it takes. If I have to leave the Lakers or whatever you need me for, I'm your guy.' "

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Jerry West talks about his new book, playing days, time as Lakers GM, Magic Johnson's retirement, lack of relationship with Phil Jackson and Game 7 advice.

Should a television studio ever give Magic Johnson another shot at late night host (and if so, please call the show "The Magic Hour II: More Magic"), the Hall of Famer already has his jokes stockpiled.

Exhibit A came during a speech last Saturday at the University of Albany. When asked what he hopes will be the most lasting aspect of his legacy, Magic cited his impact on various downtrodden areas of L.A., then casually tossed in a zing at a certain NBA superstar.

"That's easy: Putting people to work in minority communities. There's going to always be great players in basketball. There's going to always be guys who win championships in the NBA, except LeBron..."

After laughing and telling the crowd "don't be mad," Johnson threw Kobe Bryant into the mix at LeBron's expense.

"Everybody's always asking, 'Who is better between Kobe and LeBron?' I'm like, Are you kidding me? I'm like you're kidding me ... Kobe, five championships; LeBron, zero."

After getting more laughs by promising James would "get better in the fourth quarter this year," Magic did note he's not "hating on LeBron." He "loves the young man" and considers him a "triple-double threat every single game."

Of course, that fish residing in a barrel had already been shot by then.

Less than 48 hours removed from "Kobe-only-7th-in-#NBArank-Gate," -- which prompted 750+ (and counting) comments largely devoted to "Kobe vs. LeBron" -- there's no need to regurgitate this debate. (And as I've noted on more than one occasion, I get bored by "Compare Kobe to Player X.") Besides, there's a bigger takeaway from Magic's comments than his endorsement of Bryant. It's his willingness to take unsolicited pokes at LeBron and the knowledge those cracks will be crowd-pleasers anywhere outside of South Beach.

Magic gave the people what they wanted, which these days are jokes at LeBron's expense. And that must be getting old for Ohio's former hero. Yes, LeBron's recent McDonalds commercial demonstrates how The King isn't above playing Jester with a finger pointed in his own direction. (It's actually a great way for LBJ to repair his image.) However, self-deprecating humor isn't the same thing as being the butt of the joke, which LeBron now regularly is. If Magic sincerely meant these remarks as friendly cracks, he's in the minority. For most taking shots, the barbs are meant to pierce.

Back in September, I noted how no player stood to lose more in the event of a canceled season than LeBron, and it was precisely for this reason. The longer we go without basketball, the longer LeBron's persona as a super-gifted, mentally-flawed athlete is allowed to fester. Not to mention, he gets one fewer shot at the championship necessary to stifle some critics, if not shut them up the entire lot of them.

For the time being, Magic's speech is a microcosm of LeBron's existence. Until we're back on the court, James will have no choice but to sit back and take it.

In addition to being sports fans, Brian and I are really into pop culture. Movies. Television. And of course, music. Some might even call us "music geeks" or "music snobs," both labels difficult to deny. These passions made it quite fun having Steve Gorman on as a guest. He's got the "music" end covered, having spent 20+ years as the drummer for The Black Crowes. He's also a sports junkie who even has own sports podcast, Steve Gorman Sports! It was only natural that a marathon podcast would ensue.

PODCAST
Andy talks with Steve Gorman, drummer for The Black Crowes and host of Steve Gorman Sports!, about his abandoned love of the Lakers, LeBron James, the state of music in 2011 and the Gods of drumming. Podcast

On the music front, Gorman shared his thoughts on the state of music in 2011, the touring lifestyle and what it's like to share a stage with Jimmy Page. He also talked about wearing musical influences on your sleeve, and why his two drumming gods (Ringo Starr and John Bonham) are actually more similar than your ears might think. Great stuff for anybody who takes their CD collection seriously.

We also talked a lot of NBA, and Gorman offered takes on topics ranging from "The Decision" to the Dallas Mavericks to the mental focus required of an elite athlete. He also discussed Kobe Bryant, and like many folks who don't cheer for the Lakers -- and even, frankly, some who do -- Gorman's not a fan of The Mamba's personality. But unlike some who never warmed up to Kobe, Gorman doesn't use this as an excuse to deny the future Hall of Famer his props:

"I don't want to know him. I don't ever want to have dinner with him, but man, you can't take a thing away from him. You know what I think about him? I think he's somewhere in the world right now working really hard. At this very moment you and I are speaking, he is enraged and he's dribbling a ball with his fingers taped together. Or he's got ankle weights on and he's running through some swamp somewhere holding onto a ball and people are throwing things at him, because he's gotta get ready for the season. I mean, I love that he is as maniacal [as he is]. On the maniac scale, I'd say he's up there with [Michael] Jordan. He's just obsessed with winning and competing. And I love that."

Besides, when it comes to Lakers, Gorman has bigger fish to fry than Kobe, literally and figuratively. From childhood ("Before [Kareem Abdul-]Jabbar," as he notes) until 1996, Gorman was a rabid Laker fan. Ginormous. More than any other team in sports. While working on the Crowes' second album (The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion), Magic Johnson held his press conference to announce his retirement and HIV-positive status. The drummer flat out lost it.

"I had to leave that day," reveals Gorman. "I cried for three hours. I couldn't take it. It was the saddest thing in my life at that time."

With this said, it stands to reason a lot would be necessary to make Gorman turn in his back on the Lakers. Unfortunately, Shaquille O'Neal not only accomplished mission impossible, but on his first day as a Laker:

"They signed Shaq, who I was not a huge fan of. But it was okay, because I appreciated getting another dominant big man. He gets to his press conference. One of the questions comes to him about how many championships do you want to win, or do you see a championship in your future. He sidestepped the question and said, 'I just want to be young, have fun and drink Pepsi.' That was a quote. Look it up.

"That turned into the representation of everything I hated about professional sports in the 90's. It really did. And now it sounds so ridiculous saying it. The truth is, this is another way of saying I didn't have kids yet, because I was still living and dying with adult millionaires that I'll never meet. It wound me up so much that my only response that I felt I could live with was to swear off the Lakers for life.

"That was it, because I couldn't stand the thought [of rooting for Shaq]. And then I made myself feel better every time I saw his free throws down the stretch in the fourth. I was like, 'I made the right choice.' And they didn't win a ring for a few years, so it wasn't like right away, it came back to haunt me. I had a few years to get over it. Or at least pretend I was over it and move on before they truly ascended yet again."

Strong sentiments from Gorman, which prompt the Question Of The Day: Could the Lakers ever sign a player that would make it impossible for you to continue rooting for them?

As a purple and gold card-carrying fan, my answer is no.*

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