The Seven-Letter Man Doffs One of His Caps to Winnin’ Warriors

Oh, please, Coach Karl. Don’t call me names. Don’t be ticked off at me. Don’t come into the stands and try to get me.

Hey there, Georgie boy, I was just kidding about your Golden State Warriors not having a chance against the Lakers. I didn’t mean it. How could you not have a chance with that magnificent squad of yours?

I must have been crazy when I claimed that there was no person in the world who thought the Warriors would beat the Lakers in their Western Conference playoff series. There must have been literally tens of people who thought the Warriors would win.

As a matter of fact, with that kind of incredible talent, the Warriors probably figured to win at least two and maybe three games in the series. There was no reason they shouldn’t--unless, of course, they got outcoached.

Stupid me. I don’t know what I could have been thinking when I said you wouldn’t win. No wonder you read my story to your team. No wonder you called me a seven-letter word. No wonder you called it irresponsible journalism.

Some people suggested that you did all that merely to fire up your team. You know, the old “hang it on the bulletin board” routine.

Well, it sure worked. You put fire in those guys’ eyes.

The Warriors went right out and played hard, hard, hard. They gave the Lakers fits in the second game of the series. They dribbled beautifully, almost always using one hand. They nearly yanked down several big rebounds. And whenever you made a substitution, they checked in at the scorer’s table--and I mean every single time.

It was some effort. Everybody was surprised when you wound up losing by 15 points, and I mean everybody.

Back home in Oakland, basketball fans kicked their television sets. They said: “Damn. And we had the better team, too.”

Many of them had made angry calls to me the previous day. A typical caller said: “How dare you say nobody thinks the Warriors will win this series. George Karl was right, man. You are a seven-letter word.”

Calls came from around the world. It was amazing how many people thought Golden State had the better team. The Pope called and said he planned to visit the world champion Warriors during his upcoming American tour. “How many points did Sleepy Floyd score yesterday?” he asked me.

When they were down two games to none, the Warriors got even hotter than before. Maybe you read my stuff to them again, I don’t know. All I can say is, what a performance they put on in Game 3. What fire. What desire.

They lost by only 25 points, and I swear, George, if that game had gone into overtime, you would have won it. The Lakers were really starting to get tired. You could see it.

“Yes, I’m tired. We’re all tired,” one Laker said when he phoned me after the game. “Tired of beating these same guys night after night.”

Another Laker quickly snatched the phone from his teammate and said: “No, no, no. He doesn’t mean that. We’re very worried about the Warriors. In fact, we’re Warrior worriers. We’ve got to take these games one day at a time . We’ve got to give 110% out there every night. We’ve got to play with intensity . Right, coach?”

“Right,” Pat Riley said, picking up the extension. “You can quote me as saying we’re very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very worried about the Warriors.”

What could I do in the face of all that, except admit that I was wrong? If the Lakers were that concerned about the Warriors, I guess I must have been mistaken about nobody in the world thinking Golden State had a chance to win.

Why, I’ll just bet you that if Riley had pulled all his players off the floor during the second half Saturday, the Warriors could have made up that 25-point difference in less than 24 minutes.

Then came Sunday’s game. You did it, George, you did it. You outplayed them for a whole quarter! You won!

People in the Bay Area must be talking dynasty by now. Fans around the country soon will begin chanting: “Beat G.S.!, Beat G.S.!” You look at that Golden State starting lineup and it’s plain to see that they are only four players away from a contending team.

What happened in Sunday’s Game 4 should be evidence enough that when the Lakers look into their mirrors, what they see is the Warriors. A perfect reflection of themselves. Identical teams. Every single Golden State starter, for example, exactly like every Los Angeles starter, is over 6 feet tall. Hard to believe but true.

It’s almost incredible, the coincidences. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the two teams apart. No wonder that before the playoffs, Larry Bird said the team he feared most was: “The Lakers or Warriors, I forget which.”

You were right, Coach Karl. You were right, and I was wrong. It was irresponsible journalism to suggest you wouldn’t win this series. I might as well have been sneaking outside your house, in the bushes, when I reported that.

You’re the guy who put the “go” in Golden State. My sincerest apologies, coach, for saying your team couldn’t win four games from the Lakers in a best-of-77 series. Of course you could. You could win four.

No. I take that back. You would win four. Let’s be positive about this.