McCallum Jack - Golden days: Wests Lakers, Stephs Warriors, and the California dreamers who reinvented basketball

The room is dark at sunset, though no darker than the mood. Jerry West, his wife, Karen, and a visitor are watching the Game 4 broadcast of the 2017 NBA Finals from Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland on a large TV in the large living room of their large home in the Bel Air section of Los Angeles. So are five yapping dogs, a couple of which are in as bad a mood as Jerry. A long time ago when he was on a road trip with the Los Angeles Lakers, West was kept up all night by the incessant barking of dogs in his New York City hotel room. When he complained to the front desk he was told, Were sorry, Mr. West, but the dogs are our guests, too. Theyre competing at the Westminster Dog Show. Such was life in the NBA back then.

The dog who nips belongs to Ryan, says Karen West. (The man who nips belongs to Karen.) The Wests oldest son dropped off his two dogs so he could take a yapless birthday trip to the desert.

When Ryan, now the assistant general manager for the Lakers, turned six years old in 1985, thirty-two years ago to this day, his father was watching another Finals on TV. As Ryans birthday party went on, Jerry kept his eyes on his Lakers. To be accurate, he had been keeping his ears on them since his cable had gone out during the party. West preferred listening to Lakers announcer Chick Hearn anyway, so it was Hearn who brought him the joyful play-by-play during which L.A. beat the Celtics at Boston Garden in Game 6 to win the NBA championship. It remains among Wests top memories, perhaps the best memory, for it partially erased (emphasis on partially) the specter of so many defeats on that cursed parquet floor, defeats that scar his soul and, to his mind, define his career.

During this 2017 broadcast, ABC flashes a graphic of Celtics immortal Bill Russells record in the Finals. It is 11-1, six of those victories having come in the sixties at the expense of Wests Lakers.

Jesus, what a record, says Wests visitor impulsively. Wrong thing to say, the Celtics being Wests personal bte noire. West says nothing.

The 1985 win was so singularly satisfying that one wonders if West regrets, even decades later, not being there to celebrate with the team he had assembled as general manager. For that matter, why isnt he in Cleveland right now? He is just one day back from a quickie fishing trip to Alaska where rough conditions left the anglers salmon-less. So why didnt West fly directly to Cleveland for Game 4? The Warriors, for whom at the moment he is a consultant, part owner, and member of the executive board, came into the game with a 30 series lead, the opportunity to become the first team to go through the playoffs undefeated and capture their second championship in three seasons. Why not be there to share the love, take a bow for a job well done, and spray some champagne?

Oh, hell, I never wanted to go on the road, says West, squirming in his well-worn spot on the couch. You feel like youre a distraction when youre around. Theres enough going on there that they dont need me. The other thing is, when youre in crowds you get so many peoplelook, some are very nice. I understand they want a picture, and I dont like to say no. But my Gawd! So many. I enjoy being around people. But not that much.

Dammit, Zaza, why would you foul him? (Warriors center Zaza Pachulia commits a foul on LeBron James, who then finishes a three-point play.)

When hes out in public, a steady stream of cellphone-holding supplicants does indeed seek out the quite recognizable visage of West, who turned seventy-nine a few days before the Finals began. Hes one of those carved-in-granite legends, wide eyes, nine-times-broken nose, his sharp features settled in on themselves, a handsome man, his overall look less haunted than it once was. West does not go anywhere without being recognized, and he invariably complies for a photo, duct-taping a smile to his face as he hunches over to get his still-erect 6'3" frame into the shot. His hips and knees are fine even if his nose is not. People think Im a drug addict, I do so much sniffling, says West. For the record, he is not.

Over the years West did attend a few postseason games when he was a general manager, but not many and never during a championship series. I went a few times, says Karen, even when he didnt. Pat Riley, a former teammate and fellow Lakers immortal with whom West shares so much NBA history, says there is another reason that he stays home. Jerry thinks he brings his teams bad luck, says Riley, president of the Miami Heat. Its from all those painful losses in the sixties.

Steph, you gotta get up on him! (Warriors guard Stephen Curry goes under, instead of fighting his way over, a screen, and J. R. Smith gets loose for a three-pointer.)

As West watches at home, he is almost positive that he is a de facto ex-Warrior. There could be a saving phone call over the weekend, but it doesnt look good. He is apparently heading for the Los Angeles Clippers, who are in the process of applying a full-court press on West. The Clips, who despite much promise over recent years have never made it to even a conference final, need West in the same way the Warriors needed him a half dozen years ago; in fact, his position as consultant would be almost identical to the one he holds at Golden State.

ButWest a Clipper? Over a decade ago he went to the Memphis Grizzlies, and, while he did a solid job, we kind of forgot that he was there. Then it took a couple of years to come to grips with the fact that West was a Warrior, which we came to understand only when Golden State got good; West is almost always associated with good.