I was raised to loathe the major market teams of professional sports. It’s something my father passed on to me, like it came in my genes or something. That bias has followed me wherever I have lived. The professional teams of Los Angeles and New York have never been close to my favorites, and their fans have been far from admired. They are generally competitive on a consistent basis because the organizations generally have the deep pockets to lure the big-name free agents to their big cities.

It’s basic jealously, which is really at the core of the sports fandom. But I’ll give the New Yorkers their due; they’re generally quite devoted and knowledgeable, but the Los Angeles fan is an enigma.

Case in point, this past Thursday I was out at the bars with my roommates to catch game three of the Lakers first round series against Minnesota. I was routing for the Wolves not only because of my bias, but because earlier in my life I called the shores of Medicine Lake in Golden Valley, Minn., my home.

To be honest, with several drinks in my system, I was one of the more vocal Minnesota supporters at the bar. After every Wolves basket my roommates and I were quick to voice our support in a room full of Lakers supporters. One such fan had qualms with my interests in Minnesota winning the game. Wobbling off his stool, the fan staggered towards me. With slurred speech, he got right up in my grill to announce his love for all things Lakers. I ignored him.

With just a few seconds left in regulation, the Lakers had possession down five. Kobe Bryant drove down the court, drained a three, was fouled, and converted the free throw, bringing the Lakers deficit to one. After Minnesota turned it over, Bryant was fouled driving to the hoop and tied the game going 1-2 from the line.

More garbled expletives were spat in my face describing just how great this fan believed “his” Lakers were.

Fortunately Kobe’s Sprite commercial came across the screen and I was treated to another diatribe about Kobe and the Lakers. I had had enough.

Turning around I asked Jack Nicholson’s long lost son what the Lakers had proven this season. I know they’ve won three straight championships, but this season the Lakers have limped into the fifth spot looking less than stellar. You can see it in the Minnesota series; Shaq gets his thirty and twenty and the Lakers can’t separate themselves from the opposition. Kobe is nursing a sore shoulder and his shooting percentage has gone father south than Huck Finn.

This, coupled with a supporting cast that has closely resembled a Langdon Street tire this season, has the Lakers looking like a long shot to defend their title.

Rightfully so, the Lakers fan returned by asking how many playoff series the Wolves have won. The answer: zero.

To end the confrontation, I bet the guy a drink on the game’s outcome. He declined. To him the game didn’t matter. The Lakers would undoubtedly win the series and then the championship.

Being the voice of reason, my roommate stepped in to ask just what kind of connection this devoted Lakers fan had to Los Angeles.

“I lived in L.A. for eight years!” he yelped with a strong New Jersey accent.

Twelve seconds into overtime the Wolves all-star and deserved league MVP Kevin Garnett fouled out.

“This game is ohva!” he screamed.

I must admit I was beginning to feel a little apprehensive about the game. KG is the Wolves lifeblood, with him on the pine Minnesota would need Kevin McHale to suit up if they were to have a chance.

The Lakers fan had moved on. He was now gloating in the face of the bouncer. The game was in the bag. Quickly, however, the Lakers fans drunken smile had flipped to a frown. Gary Trent and Marc Jackson calmly connected their free throws, as the Lakers missed their shots on the other end.

Shortly before bar time, Minnesota had defeated the Los Angeles, 114-110. The bouncer was returning the boasts the Los Angeles fan had been making.

“I just like the Lakers, I’m from Jersey,” the fan corrected himself.

The bouncer had had enough.

“You’re out,” he said, promptly escorting the fan out the door.

As quickly as this diehard Lakers fan’s story changed, the Wolves blew game four as their offense dried up during key stretches.

But Los Angeles still isn’t showing itself. Shaq is having a dominating series, and with the exception of game one, the Lakers haven’t been able to put the Wolves away. If the Lakers are having this much trouble with a marginally successful team like Minnesota, what chance do they have against San Antonio or Sacramento? Kobe has to gather himself, and the role players have to be effective if the Lakers want to simply advance. Dreams of another Lakers championship appear to be about as realistic as a Lakers fan. The rest of the West is simply too strong.