LOS ANGELES _ It's been 10 years, but I'll never forget those 10 minutes.
I couldn't breathe. I had just sat at my press seat near the court at Staples Center and the scene was overwhelming.
It was moments before Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals, Lakers versus Boston Celtics, arguably the most pressure-filled sports event in this city's history, legendary rivals facing off on a Thursday night in the middle of June for one historic moment to decide a championship.
I wasn't the only one gasping for air.
It was not yet tipoff, but the players were already sweating profusely, the crowd was already roaring, the heat was oppressive. The pressure was visible and tangible and suffocating.
Could the Lakers claim a title over the Celtics for just the third time in a dozen Finals meetings? And could they do it with a team wracked by injury and distraction, a team barely taped together by Kobe Bryant's will, Derek Fisher's wisdom and Ron Artest's wackiness?
For one night, could this mismatched band of defending champions gain revenge for a 2008 Finals embarrassment against the Celtics, beat the only team that truly matters, and become eternal Lakers?
Could Bryant, struggling with a sore finger and bum knee, find his shot? Could Pau Gasol, who had spent most of his career being steamrolled in big games, find his heart?
Could Fisher, an aging leader fighting for a new contract, rediscover his youth? Could Lamar Odom overcome the Kardashian Curse? Would Artest, who wouldn't become Metta World Peace for another year, show up?
This game marked the end of a tumultuous playoff run in which the Lakers were pushed to six and seven games in two of the three previous series amid a typical Hollywood circus.
They survived the first-round series against Oklahoma City when a Bryant air ball was grabbed and laid in by Gasol in Game 6, then clinched the Western Conference finals against Phoenix only after Bryant scored nine points in the last two minutes.
By the time the Finals began, Artest had already made postseason news by tweeting that coach Phil Jackson needed to "close his yapper," while Bryant was in the headlines for posing in various odd white apparel _ including a shawl _ for a horrific photo shoot in the L.A. Times Sunday magazine. And, oh yeah, Andrew Bynum had been playing with a torn meniscus in his right knee since the first round.
This was one strange, staggered team that always seemed on the verge of collapse. They didn't possess the greatness of the teams that won three titles with Bryant and Shaquille O'Neal. They didn't have the freshness of Bryant's first non-Shaq title win over Orlando the previous season. They were defending champions who were always on the defensive. They were marked by Bryant's sarcasm, Gasol's quiet stewing and Fisher's constant attempts to make peace.
"We'll see how much we matured," said Bryant before the Finals. "(The Celtics) challenged us two years ago ... now it's a test to see how much we've grown."
As I finally found my breath before Game 7, I thought about the prescience of Bryant's statement. This Finals series had indeed been the ultimate test.
