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<UID>
8701280596
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
870610
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Wednesday, June 10, 1987
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL CHASER
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>
REPRINTED STATE EDITION June 11, 1987
</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1987, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
MAKE NO MISTAKE - THERE WAS NO MYSTIQUE THIS TIME
</HEADLINE>
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</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
BOSTON -- The leprechaun dies. He went stiff at the very moment he usually
rises; the final seconds of a Celtics' playoff thriller. The people who filed
quietly out of Boston Garden Tuesday night,  rubbing their eyes, clearing
their hoarse throats, these same people who just seconds before had been at
the top of their lungs, sure that the magic was there, well, they were silent
now, quiet as a  funeral. The championship series was not over. The innocence
was. Lakers win. The leprechaun dies.
How many times had we seen this before? Here were the Celtics,  leading,
106-105, with eight seconds  to go, and already the writers were dashing off
another homage to the Boston Garden mystique. The home team had played poorly
in the final minutes, had lost the ball three times, and yet somehow Larry
Bird wound up in the corner -- this is getting a little old, isn't it? -- and
he hoisted a rainbow, and down it came. Insanity! Celtics lead by two,
106-104.

  "I was standing under the hoop when he  put that up," said LA's Magic
Johnson, who at that moment did not know he would be dubbed the prince this
evening. "I knew it was going in. I saw it come down and I said, 'Oh, my
goodness.' "
  Oh  my goodness. The Celtics do it again? They would really tie this series
at two games apiece -- despite all the talent and speed and depth advantage
the Lakers' held? They would? Really?
  Not really.  With that narrow lead, the call went up for the blessed dust
that usually coats the Celtics, and assures them only good things in this
rickety building.
  The call went unanswered. No dust left.
  The leprechaun dies. 
No rebounding from no rebound  How did it happen? Here is how it happened:
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar tried a shot and was fouled by Kevin McHale with eight
seconds left.  He made  the first  but missed the second, and all Boston
needed was to grab the rebound and run out the final  seconds. Simple. Easy.
Automatic. But McHale and Robert Parish both went for the ball, and neither
came away with it. It rolled out, was ruled Lakers' ball, as the green bench
went crazy and Red Auerbach began a boil that would culminate in him chasing
the officials down the tunnel. Afterward,  few  people noticed Magic Johnson
looking at the ball, clapping his hands yelling, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
  Perhaps, he knew what awaited him. Surely no one else did. Following a
time-out, the Lakers got the  ball to Johnson, he half-faked a jump shot --
"I'm not much of a jump shooter anyway" he would  later say -- then took a big
dribble and began the golden steps toward the end of Boston Garden mystique.
With McHale defending him, he drove to the lane, and unleashed a hook shot
that went up and dropped though, kissing the net hello and the Celtics goodby
on the way down.
  "What do you call that shot?"  Johnson was later asked. "A sky hook like
Kareem's?"
  'That's a junior, junior, junior, sky hook," he said, flashing that famous
smile.
  "Did you know it was going in?"
  "I never even saw it,"  he said. "I hooked it, someone jumped in my face,
then I was on the floor."
How the mighty fall -- noisily  The Garden crowd went eerily quiet. Here was
a game that looked like Boston again, the Lakers could never get their running
untracked, the physical was beating the speedy, the crowd was its usual
hellfire, and at one stage the Celtics led this thing by 16 points. Sixteen
points? Over the Lakers?
  And yet in the end, Boston made the mistakes, the bad plays. "Two bad
passes in the final minutes killed us," said Celtics coach K.C. Jones. "I'm
very disappointed with the officiating. It seemed like  Earl Strom was wearing
a Lakers uniform out there. He really did a job on us."
  This is how far the Celtics had fallen so fast. K.C. Jones complaining
about the officials? Well. Yes. You knew things were different when, with two
seconds left, the crowd still reeling from the Magic Hook, Boston managed to
get the ball to Bird again. No! Couldn't be! Up he went, the ball came off his
hands, another  high arching shot.
  "I was under the hoop again that time," said Johnson, "and at first I
thought it was going in and I say 'OOOOOHHH!' and then I saw it was strong, I
could tell, and I said, 'We  got it!' "
  It was strong. It clanged off the rim and ricocheted backward. The buzzer
sounded. The Lakers lept in the air. They had won, 107-106. They had broken a
jinx. Won only the third game by  a visiting team in the last 88 games in this
building. They lead this series, 3-1. By all rights it is over.
  "It was such a good game," Johnson said. "It was almost a shame someone had
to lose."
  Almost. As the crowd filed out, it was so quiet, you could hear the sound
of an ambulance siren from somewhere in the night out on Causeway Street. No
doubt who it was coming for. Prepare a very small  stretcher. The leprechaun
was dead.
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