Lakers v. Wizards: Kemper Arena
Kansas City, MO
(1999)
The road to Kansas City is considerably shorter than travels to St. Louis or Chicago from Joplin, Missouri. On a good day with limited traffic, one can hit the city in two hours flat: a feat that has been done on more than one occasion.
After securing tickets for the exhibition NBA challenge weeks before, I felt like flexing my virgin journalistic muscles by acquiring a press pass for the game as a representative for The Chart, my college's newspaper in which I worked as a staff writer. Between majors in college and approaching the age of 30, I was still indecisive of whether I was going to pursue a career in journalism or computer science. This event would be the deciding factor.
I called the business offices at Kemper Arena, but it seemed my pleas were falling on deaf ears or to those who knew little more than how to count the money that was rolling in on the rare professional basketball tickets that were floating around the Kansas City metro area. Armed with a Sony Mavica digital camera, my son,. my co-worker, Cedric Hampton, and associate, Little Eric, we began our adventure in the road-proven minivan.
The night before was a sad day for the Lakers organization, as MVP and World-Champion Wilt Chamberlain died. The notorious number thirteen was the untouchable dominant center for the club in a generation long passed. The slower-moving 70s style of play had now been replaced by the Jordan era of high-flying dunks and a rising dynasty that included new stars like Kobe Bryant, Robert Horry, and Shaq. Now going to see the Lakers play on the 13th of October, my limited knowledge of numerology only had me feel , "wow, that's eerie!" Prior to the game, I had a black number thirteen screened to the only Lakers shirt I owned in tribute to "Wilt the Stilt."
We arrived at Kemper Arena only an hour before the game started and cased the perimeter for access to where my press pass might be residing. After banging on a window, an event staff person told me to go to the "tunnel." The tunnel, I thought, was where security whisked the professional athletes and coaches into the stadium, and exactly where I wanted to be.
We found the tunnel in time to see Maryland rookie Laron Profit exiting his Greyhound bus. Following him into the dark corridor with my son's hand in mine, we came to the light at the end where two women sat at a table with lists and access badges. Thinking there was no way I was "on the list," we trudged onward and put on our best "game face."
"Hello there," I gleamed. "My name is Jason Walsh with The Chart at Missouri Southern State College. I arranged for a press pass for the game this past week."
The smiling woman looked at my son and I and said "let's see here…" After scanning the first page on her clipboard, she flipped the page where I saw my name and The Chart written at the top of the page. "Here we go, Mr. Walsh." Then she handed me my press pass. Astonished, I looked at her, dumbfounded, unable to think what to do next. She looked at my son, Christian, and said, "and who's this?"
"Ummm...this is my technical advisor. Is it ok if he comes with me?"
"Sure," she smiled. "That shouldn't be a problem."
"So," I said. "what do we do now?"
"Well, the locker room starts in a couple of minutes and then the players will take the court. Just follow the corridor down the hall to the right."
"Ok…thanks." We exited the tunnel and told the rest of our party, Cedric and Little Eric, that we had gotten the pass and were heading inside. I told them to go in the main entrance and we'd meet up on the other side. Then, Christian and I returned to the tunnel and down into the locker room area.
Rounding the circular corridor, we came upon a group of reporters and photographers interviewing none other than former Bulls coach, Phil Jackson, who was about to coach his second game with the Lakers.
"Christian, do you know who that is?" My five-year-old stared at me blankly wondering more where the hot dogs were, whose odor lingered invitingly in the air. Like a little kid, I crept up on the group and snapped a couple of pictures on the digital camera. Listening to the barrage of questions whose themes included the Bulls, Kobe and Shaq, and the "triangle offense," I waited for my turn and then let my question fly.
"Coach Jackson, how do you feel the acquisition of former Bull, Ron Harper, will help in the success of the Lakers organization?" There…I got it out.
He looked and me and gave a long, transcendental explanation of how Harper would fit in to the team's structure, but me, being an awestruck fan, heard almost nothing except the voice in my head going "dude, you're talking to Phil Jackson!"
The interview session ended and the doors to the locker room opened. I walked in, Christian's hand in mine, and the entire Lakers team was standing there in front of me. I started picking out players from the number of games I'd watched on television: Shaq, Kobe Bryant, Rick Fox, Robert Horry, John Salley, and local KC rookie, Tyronn Lue. The reporters swarmed Shaq and Kobe for questions. I took it all in, the players, the uniforms, the media feeding frenzy, and then we walked down the hall. We turned into a quiet room and Christian and I realized we had stumbled into the Wizards locker room. There were no reporters, photographers, coaches, or trainers in this room. Just a solemn group of players who looked less than pleased that we had disturbed their silence.
In my Lakers t-shirt I looked around the group, searching for something clever to say and all that came out was, "uh…good luck guys," and then we quickly exited and found the tunnel that led to the floor.
When I realized that this was the tunnel from where the players ran onto the court, we began running until we emerged into the loud dome of Kemper Arena like members of the team. I looked around and found our purchase seats where Little Eric and Cedric were waving to us. The seats were actually good, sitting only a few rows behind the court's baseline, but I explored the floor with Christian, where my yellow badge gave me unlimited access. Several of the players were already warming up so I started snapping off more shots, until the high-dollar guys hit the floor. I finished off a disk full of pictures and made my way to our seats for a five-dollar drink and insanely overpriced food for Christian. While enjoying the pre-game show, I let Cedric and Little Eric take turns walking around the floor with the press pass. Little Eric looked lost amongst the giants, while Cedric introduced himself to assistant coach Tex Winter, who like Phil Jackson, was a former member of the Bulls dynasty. The players left the floor and I knew the show was about to begin. I quickly made my way down and stopped when I heard the start of the national anthem.
Halted in my tracks by the first few notes of the song, I looked around and realized I was standing on the court near the three-point line behind a row of Laker girls. To my left, only a few feet away, stood the Laker bench. Knowing I was probably in a place I shouldn't be, I took some more pictures and made my way to the sidelines.
The game began and I started shooting everything, running from one end of the floor to the other, until a security guy stopped me and said, "you can't keep running back and forth. Go sit in that empty spot over there." I looked and there was a slot on the Lakers baseline between two cheerleaders and a photographer from the Kansas City Star. I took the place and shot more pictures and some video clips until the end of the first quarter. I took my seat until halftime so I could enjoy the game with my son and let my fellow travelers have their turn on the floor for the game. In the fourth quarter, I returned to the floor, took a few more pictures and grabbed Christian when the Wizards 88-84 upset ended. We followed the players into the tunnel for the postgame interviews.
I took another shot of the dejected Jackson and then got Christian's Lakers hat signed by Robert Horry, John Salley, and Kobe Bryant. Kobe was a very personable guy and we talked with him for a couple of minutes. He went to Lower Merrion High School in Pennsylvania, rival to one of my alma maters, Central Bucks West in Doylestown.
"We played you guys in the championship," he said smiling. "Yeah, we won." We said our goodbyes to Kobe and followed the exit tunnel behind Laron Profit.
"Good job, man," I said to the rookie. He looked down at us and said "thanks man." We found our way to the minivan and departed Kansas City on the road to Joplin.
I want to say it was a very crucial and significant night in the development of my career as a journalist, that went over without a hitch, but I can't. Outside of Nevada, Missouri, the minivan broke down and Little Eric and I hitchhiked to a covenience store where we called my former girlfriend, a photographer for the local ABC affiliate, for a ride. We had the minivan towed and climbed into her newscar returning to Joplin in the early morning hours.
Accessability is what I learned on this night. As a member of the media, I was accessable to all of these famous coaches and athletes. This power turned me on and was the assurance I needed in my career decision. A former marine biology and computer science major, I changed my course of study to communications, with an emphasis in print journalism and television production. This event was more persuasive than any class I took in college in my pursuit of a career in the media…and still, to this day, one of the coolest things that I ever did.
On The Road: The Lakers/Wizards in Kansas City
(7.7 MB/ Real Media)
A still-image music montage to the tune of House of Pain's "Jump Around," from my first experience as a field journalist in 1999. As a representative of Missouri Southern's newspaper, The Chart, I took a road trip to Kansas City for a preseason exhibition game at Kemper Arena between the Los Angeles Lakers and Washington Wizards. It was Phil Jackson's 2nd game as head coach and the beginning of the Lakers first championship season. Look for the priceless picture of my son, Christian, with the Laker girls.
MPG Videos from the Game
Wizards Steal
short clip from the baseline
(184kb)
The Laker Girls on the Baseline
my new friends on the baseline
(272kb)
Laker Girls Dancing
II
(120kb each)
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