Jackson still seems a little confused about some things

OK, so I have cause for concern as Game 5 progresses.

Our gutty big guys have really dug deep to get themselves up for a playoff game and jump on top of the pint-sized Rockets to take a considerable lead. My congratulations.

But that’s when I notice Phil Mickelson sitting next to the Lakers’ bench, and who knows if choking is contagious?

I wonder if Tiger is sitting next to the Cavs’ bench?

I’m already worried about a harried Phil Jackson, so rattled he admits to Plaschke before the game that when he swore during Sunday’s news conference, it’s the first time he’s done so in those circumstances.

“There was a reporter that was trying to hammer a point home that I certainly wasn’t going to get involved in,” the Zen Master says, forgetting for a moment the basis for Zen -- “that all sentient beings have Buddha-nature, the universal nature of inherent wisdom” -- unless, of course they are annoying columnists.

“I think demeaning your opponent,” Jackson continues, “by saying your team is embarrassed by its effort is really not fair.”

Swearing on national TV is all right, though. It was a new day Tuesday, but Jackson’s news conference struggles continued, and at least we know now why the Lakers have failed to demonstrate a killer’s instinct to date.

Their coach has no idea what it is.

Shocking, I know, but the other day someone asks if the Lakers’ loss has thrown up a red flag, and Jackson, who has coached forever in this game, says he has no idea what a red flag is. I keep forgetting he was raised in North Dakota.

Fast-forward to Tuesday, and when he’s asked whether his players have a killer instinct, he says, “they were down 14 in the half at Houston in the regular season. They came back and won the ballgame relatively handily. It wasn’t a blowout by any means, but they won a ballgame after being down 14 points. So yeah, they know how to come back from various deficits.”

At the risk of being cussed out, I say, “killer instinct isn’t coming back, it’s putting someone away.”

“OK,” says Jackson with a strong hint of dismissal in his voice, while telling another reporter “go ahead” and ask a question that maybe he might not get wrong.

“Does that mean I don’t get an answer?” I say. “Yeah, you got it,” Jackson says, which kind of ruins the point of these news conferences.

When you have Michael Jordan, Kobe & Shaq, I guess, you just figure the other teams are already dead.

Now I know many fans think newspaper folks are just supposed to be stenographers and write down whatever the coach has to say without challenge, but I thought it best to point out, “I got a wrong answer. It doesn’t apply,” to the question being asked.

“It applied to what I wanted to say; it didn’t apply to what you wanted to say,” says Jackson, and by now it’s pretty obvious if he had killer instinct, there’d be a chalk outline of Page 2’s body at his feet.

So we move on to Thursday, the Lakers competing like they should be doing in every playoff game, but this series already going two more games than it should.

No way a team with killer instinct and championship aspirations allows a seventh game, right?

I’d mention that to Jackson, but he’s just so sensitive these days, and we’ve still got to get through Denver and Cleveland -- together.

CHECKED WITH Derek Fisher, who was dressed in his uniform but wearing flip-flops, before the game and asked if it was all right to talk to him. He laughed and said I had his permission.

SENT A text to Manny Ramirez asking if he was ignoring me, and got this response: “Gooo Kobe.”

SOMEONE IS probably going to think I was trolling for porn, my computer screen in the media room featuring a nude woman lying on her back and wearing basketballs rather than a brassiere.

But I was just following up on a tip from one of our sharp young reporters, Mark Medina, who might very well have been trolling for porn, but came across a Jeanie Buss twit, or whatever it’s called, which included her provocative picture.

“driving to STAPLES Center with Phil,” she twittered. “We are listening to NPR.”

Now here we have 570, which thinks everyone listens to its radio station because they have the Lakers, and 710, which thinks everyone listens to it because it will have the Lakers next year, and Jackson doesn’t listen to either one.

I scanned several Jeanie tweets, or whatever they’re called, a little surprised to read: “Lamar-take your pants off! we scream as he checks into the game.”

I know what you’re thinking -- you’d expect something different from Jeanie. But there was no reason the way this game was going to tweet, “Hey Phil, how about calling a timeout.”

TOUGH TO top a day at Riviera, which includes an afternoon of golf with caddy Harold Arbett and a chance to listen to Vin Scully tell a captivating story after receiving the Los Angeles Sports & Entertainment Commission Ambassador Award of Excellence.

I’d tell you the story, which obviously loses something without Scully’s voice attached, but that’s why the public was invited to the event. Scully had everyone on their feet when he finished, and then left so he could enjoy the Dodgers’ night off -- true to his basic broadcasting philosophy, “always leave them wanting more.”

As for Arbett, 70 years old and what a joy, I could never take a divot on Riviera’s grounds again without an invite to play in a tournament there, but I’ve already experienced the best the place has to offer.

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t.j.simers@latimes.com