Detroit Has a Way of Getting Under His Skin

The other day I go to this woman doctor and she says she’d like to take a chunk out of my head. I figure she’s a Sparks’ fan, or once dated Milton Bradley.

She says it’s routine, as if every woman wants to take a chunk out of my head. A little skin cancer, she says, and then she takes a divot out of my head, seriously throwing a dent into my continuing argument with the wife that I’m handsome.

I’m feeling sad, of course, because I’m no longer perfect. So I figure I’ll call Plaschke and tell him my woeful tale so he’ll have something to write about. But he’s busy scribbling how the Lakers are going to eliminate the Pistons in six games.

Well, I had no idea Plaschke had a hole in his head too, because everyone knows the Lakers have only four more games to play this season.

So now I’m really down because I realize I have a hole in my head just like Plaschke, which means I could start writing sob stories like Plaschke, and my first assignment is to write about Detroit, and you know everyone stuck living in Detroit has a sob story to tell.

Not only that, but I’m going to Detroit this week with Plaschke and the Lakers, which is a sob story itself. I’d hate to think we could both end up writing the same tear-jerker about a down-and-out, blind basketball fan who holds out hope for only one thing in life -- seeing the day Devean George lives up to his potential.

I’ve got to make a choice here: I can learn how to start writing short snappy paragraphs to better tell the sob stories and finally win a writing award, or just step back and smell the flowers -- do you think they have any flowers in Detroit? -- and for a change, look on the bright side of things as the boring games are about to begin.

Who knows, I might like the idea of looking at the bright side of things; I know I’m already looking forward to finding Jimmy Hoffa when I get to Detroit.

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A HOLE in your head will make you more philosophical about life, and so maybe a visit to dingy Detroit, and the chance to get out of the sun for a few days, would do wonders for my health.

I can always drive across the border to Windsor, Canada, for a good time, or maybe go bowling. I’m sure there are a lot of bowling alleys in Detroit.

Now that’s the thing, there have been times when I’ve looked down on dingy towns like Detroit, places that aren’t as livable as Southern California, you know such as Nebraska. For the longest time I could see Mars supporting life before Nebraska, but then I heard from people living in Nebraska, so I guess there is life out there.

I was tough on Philadelphia, too, because I’ve met some people who escaped from there and they have these horror stories of what it’s like to live in a place where no one likes anyone. It might be a good place for Gary Payton to play next.

I also poked a little fun at Minnesota because I met Dave Born, and he said his father, Darwin, has been laid up and it might be kind of neat to make fun of his dad’s Minnesota birthplace. That was before the woman doctor took the divot out of my head, back in the days when I appreciated a son making fun of his laid-up father, and before I decided to start looking on the bright side of things.

I’m looking forward to going to delightful Detroit with the Lakers up 2-0 and maybe taking in some of the sights. They do have sights there, don’t they?

I’ve done some homework. I know some famous people were born in Michigan, including Tim Allen. I’m not sure, though, if the prison he attended was in Michigan. Kirk Gibson was born there and has been grumpy ever since.

George Armstrong Custer, someone the Pistons can relate to this week, was commander of Michigan’s cavalry. Second banana Ed McMahon, someone else the Pistons can relate to, was born in delightful Detroit. Magic and Madonna are from Michigan, which goes to show that you can become famous no matter where you were born.

John Black is also from Michigan, proving an important point: You don’t have to be famous to be from Michigan. The Lakers’ PR guy is from Bay City, and anyone who remembers the Bay City Bombers and those vivacious blonds on roller skates can understand why Black isn’t married and remains to this day a little shy around women. Especially vivacious blonds.

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NOW I have no idea what it’s like to spend a year in delightful Detroit watching basketball and knowing the best you can hope for is an Eastern Conference championship trophy. I’m sure the banner will look real nice in the arena.

I know it’s tough on fans. They have a hockey team and a baseball team. From what I understand, like us, they’re still waiting for the return of pro football. And I can certainly relate to what it’s like being stuck with a crummy baseball team, but there is one major difference -- the people who live in delightful Detroit like to take along an octopus when they go to a hockey game. I don’t go to many hockey games, of course, but I’m told by folks here they like to take along their girlfriends or wives.

Anyway, the next four basketball games should be a lot fun, especially with my new outlook on life and the chance to get to know a little more about another one of our nondescript Midwest states.

I just wish the series could last a little longer so we could spend more time together. Maybe that’s what Plaschke had in mind when he predicted a six-game series, which would mean spending a couple of more days in delightful Detroit.

Like I said, I’m not the only one with a hole in his head.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at [email protected]. To read previous columns by Simers, go to latimes.com/simers.