I still get chills thinking about that legendary 1985 NBA Finals. You know, the one where the Lakers finally broke their eight-game Finals losing streak against the Celtics? As someone who's watched basketball for over three decades, I've never seen a more emotionally charged championship series. What makes it particularly poignant now is how these aging warriors from that era are facing their toughest battles off the court, much like former PBA enforcer Ramon "Onchie" dela Cruz who's currently knocking on the government's doors for help with his total knee replacement. These athletes gave us everything on the court, and now their bodies are paying the price.
The rivalry between the Lakers and Celtics in the 80s defined basketball excellence. Boston had beaten LA in their previous eight Finals meetings, creating what fans called the "Celtic Mystique." The 1984 Finals had been particularly brutal - the Celtics winning in seven games with Kevin McHale's infamous clothesline tackle of Kurt Rambis becoming symbolic of Boston's physical dominance. The Lakers were labeled "soft" and Magic Johnson's leadership was questioned. I remember watching those games as a teenager, feeling that sinking sensation every time Larry Bird hit another clutch shot.
What made the 1985 turnaround so special was how the Lakers completely flipped the narrative. They arrived in Boston Garden for Game 1 and got demolished 148-114 - still the most points ever scored in an NBA Finals game. Most teams would have folded, but what happened next was pure magic. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, at 38 years old, put the team on his back in Game 2, dropping 30 points, 17 rebounds, and 8 assists. I'll never forget watching him hit those skyhooks with that determined look in his eyes. The Lakers stole home-court advantage with that 109-102 victory, and you could feel the series shifting.
The championship culminated in Game 6 at Boston Garden, with the Lakers winning 111-100 to capture their third title of the 80s. Magic Johnson averaged 18.3 points, 14 assists, and 6.8 rebounds throughout the series, earning Finals MVP honors. But for me, the real story was Kareem fighting through age and exhaustion to dominate. The image of him being carried off the court by his teammates remains etched in my memory. These physical sacrifices athletes make stay with them forever - which brings me back to Ramon dela Cruz's current struggle for knee replacement funding. These warriors who entertained us for years now battle their own bodies, their medical needs serving as painful reminders of the physical price they paid for our entertainment.
What many forget is that the 1985 victory represented more than just basketball - it was about breaking psychological barriers. The Lakers had lost nine straight games in Boston Garden before that Game 2 victory. The "Reliving the Epic 1985 NBA Final: Lakers vs Celtics Championship Story" isn't just about basketball history - it's about overcoming mental hurdles that seemed insurmountable. As I watch modern players load-manage and protect their long-term health, I can't help but admire the sheer physical toll those 80s battles took. Players like James Worthy, who averaged 23.7 points in that series, and Larry Bird, who put up 23.8 points per game despite shooting struggles, left everything on the court.
The connection between these historic battles and current athlete welfare can't be ignored. While we celebrate these legendary performances, we must acknowledge the aftermath. Ramon dela Cruz's situation highlights how athletic glory often comes with lifelong physical consequences. The government assistance he seeks represents the kind of support these sports heroes deserve after sacrificing their bodies for national pride and entertainment. I've always believed that countries should have better systems to care for their athletic veterans, much like how we honor military veterans.
Looking back, the 1985 NBA Finals taught me about resilience, about aging gracefully under pressure, and about rewriting narratives. The Lakers' victory proved that history doesn't have to repeat itself, that patterns can be broken with determination and strategic brilliance. As I watch today's NBA, with its emphasis on three-point shooting and positionless basketball, I sometimes miss those physical, emotionally charged battles between clearly defined rivals. The Celtics-Lakers rivalry of the 80s gave basketball its soul, and the 1985 championship will always represent the moment the Lakers found theirs. These stories matter because they're not just about sports - they're about human struggle, triumph, and the costs that come with greatness. And as dela Cruz's situation reminds us, the final buzzer on these athletes' physical wellbeing never really sounds.