Fans don't mind that Lakers success is no cheap thrill

Jones had driven from her San Diego home to Staples Center on Sunday with her two kids and one of her best friends.

She took a breather before going to her seats, time enough to tally the damage. Tickets, gas, parking, hot dogs, sodas, T-shirts and Lakers Crocs for the kids -- she estimated that all together the day would cost near $1,000, a hefty chunk for a legal clerk and her waitress pal.

"It's the playoffs," she said. "Kobe and Iverson."

But $1,000?, she was asked. That's a lot for one game.

"I wouldn't miss this for anything," she said, her smile tightening. "It's just so much fun, and worth the memories . . . even in times like these, you can't put a price on that."

Absolutely.

These are tough times. It's the economy, the war, the election, the environment. Pessimism rules. The doomsayers crow.

But inside Staples Center on the day of a Lakers playoff game, where the cheap seats run $200, tough times seem far away.

It's the flash and sizzle, the sexiness and the athletes. Even in a cavernous arena, it's the intimate vibe. Unique to L.A. With all due respect to the Angels and Dodgers, unique to the Lakers too.

Inside the building Sunday, in the aisles and porticoes and seats, milled mothers and sons, lawyers and mechanics, chief executives and waitresses.

Elation, sheer confidence, reigned. You could hear a steady mantra among the hopeful: The Lakers are headed to another title.

Recession? What recession.

The lines for greasy, thin, $8.50 hot dogs, ran 20 deep and were constantly replenished.

At the Lakers' gift shop -- where a Kobe jersey, a gold baseball cap and a pair of purple Lakers Crocs will put nearly a $300 dent in the checking account -- you couldn't walk three feet without colliding with a fan.

At The Art of the Game, a gallery selling pricey, sports-related curios and portraits, some for more than $5,000, business was good.

"Slowdown? No," said manager Dave Erickson. "With the optimism about the team, I'm expecting things to pick up."

"This is the perfect diversion," said Gordie Woo, a lawyer from Riverside, as he sat in the upper levels of the arena, waiting for the game to begin. Woo carpooled to the game, a nod to the high cost of gas and his worries about the environment. "No troubles here. . . . I'm going to cheer like crazy. It's payoff for sticking with the team."