Peace Was at Hand Before Laker Win

As the Lakers played inside Staples Center early Monday evening, Janina Mercado sat with her mother, Blanca, in the middle of 11th Street.

Not exactly in the middle, actually. Janina was on the right side of the double yellow line. Blanca was on the left.

Three thousand other fans milled about them, all with an eye on the giant video screen mounted on the side of the new building.

Staples officials broke from their previous policy and showed Game 6 on the screen, a decision that turned the plaza, sidewalks and street in front of the arena into one gigantic family room.

Janina arrived at Staples not to purchase a ticket, but hoping to watch the game from the sports bar built into the complex. She was in line by 3:30 p.m. and said she wasn’t within 200 people of the door at game time, some three hours later.

As she considered finding another downtown bar with a spare seat and a view of a television, the game came on above her. Hundreds of fans who brought beach chairs and camped in the plaza cheered.

“I heard they never do this,” Janina said. “I was walking away. Everybody’s pretty pumped.”

Great crowd, at first: Staples does not ordinarily show the games until they are well into the third quarter, largely because it fears scenes such as Monday’s. The enormousness of the NBA finals, however, dictated a larger presence of police and security personnel, and arena officials made a game-time decision to bring their product to the yellow-and-purple-faced people.

During the game the crowd was peaceful and not the least bit cynical, although one wise guy walked through the crowd, considered the waving signs and shook his fists, saying: “This is the year 2000. Everybody’s got to have a TV, dammit.”

Once the game appeared on the screen, police had one fear:

That Staples officials would change their minds.

“Now that they have it on,” Commander Sharon Papa said, “it would be a good idea to leave it on.”

And, so, out of the great disappointment of the many who did not obtain tickets or could not find an indoor television set, grew a moment almost unique to sprawling Los Angeles. They stood together and fought the Indiana Pacers, common foes. There was no alcohol to be bought. There was no ugly incident during the game.

There was just basketball, Laker basketball, viewed by thousands who appeared to be looking up at fireworks.

“I don’t care if I have to sit here on this asphalt,” Janina Mercado said, “in the middle of this street. This is awesome. I like it here. I like how everyone’s out here.”

“She made us stay here,” Blanca said, brushing dirt from her gray business suit. “But, as long as I can see the game, I’m fine.”

Then she waved her hand in front of her.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Sit down!”

Trouble starter: The scene changed dramatically after the game.

As late as 10:30 p.m., inside Staples Center, the buzzing of police helicopters overhead could be heard.

Those who had hung around Staples to celebrate inside were out of luck for a while. Security allowed no one out for a time. From the upper concourse level, facing parking lot 2--where most spectators are expected to congregate for Wednesday’s victory celebration--the view was of a long line of police with nightsticks drawn, their backs to Staples and facing down the milling crowd in lot 2.

An hour and a half after the game ended, the fires that burned out a police car on 11th Street--preceded by a group of teenage boys running at it and kicking out its windows--and a Reuters van were out. All that was left flickering were a few newspaper piles near some Times racks at the southwest corner of lot 2. Four hours before, it had been a hot spot for people buying souvenir papers and T-shirts.

The weather up there: Felicia, an usher in the 300 sections, the uppermost tiers of Staples Center, wasn’t always comfortable working so near to a 30- or 40-foot drop.

“This first time it bothered me,” she said. “I got dizzy.”

Another usher said she frequently leaves her post in the open arena for the tunnel behind her, where she can no longer see fans hanging over the short glass partition that keeps them from going over the edge.

“It’s magnetic,” she said of the severe drop. “It’s the force of life. It’s so steep it pulls at you. I can’t handle it.”

The worst, she said, is the concerts, when the people have a few drinks and hang over the edge, screaming.

“They’re crazy,” she said, laughing.

Sold out: Less than 24 hours after he won the U.S. Open by 15 shots, Tiger Woods called the Lakers, hoping to buy a courtside seat, according to a team official.

Less than 48 hours after he beat Oscar De La Hoya in the same venue, Shane Mosley called the Lakers, hoping for the same.

Both were told none was available.

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Times Sports Editor Bill Dwyre contributed to this story.