A PARADE BUS CAN SHOW ONLY SO MUCH.

Byline: KAREN CROUSE

We're live at Figueroa and 12th streets where in a few minutes the seven double-decker buses carrying the two-time reigning NBA champions will lumber into view.

My name's Dinah Stee and for the next 30 inches or so my job is to give you an up-close-and-personal glimpse at your Los Angeles Lakers. They may seem more familiar to you than - dare we say? - your spouse. You have, after all, spent 98 afternoons and evenings with them over the past eight months. They've been in your living room, keeping you company, keeping you entertained, keeping you on the edge of your couch, keeping you distracted from your own crazy life.

You've screamed at them to grow up and stroked them to keep their chins up and celebrated their sensational postseason run so enthusiastically that right now you can hardly lift your head up. Of course that doesn't keep you from craning your neck to get a gander of your favorite player as the caravan rounds the corner.

You know Kobe Bryant is the greatest player in the solar system - didn't Shaquille O'Neal say so? And O'Neal, well it's plain to see he's a world superpower unto himself.

If these guys seem as familiar to you as your reflection, we understand. Since the last day of October you've spent the equivalent of four days, give or take a few hours, watching these players. You've wondered about them, whined about them. You've wallowed in the luxury that was their historic postseason run.

You may think you know them better than your own brother because every day they're everywhere - in your newspaper, on your television screen, at your favorite dining or dancing spot, on rows of magazine covers at your favorite newsstand.

We're here to tell you there's so much more to every Laker than the naked eye sees. It's in the little-known details that the players are fleshed out as people.

Take rookie Mark Madsen and Bryant. See them conversing on the upper level of that first double-decker bus? It could be they're conversing in Spanish.

Madsen is fluent in the language, which he picked up during his two-year Mormon mission in Spain. He fell so in love with the country and its language, he returned to the States, enrolled at Stanford and spent his last three years of college living in the Spanish-themed dormitory.

Bryant, who already is fluent in English, Italian and hip-hop, is learning Spanish with the help of his wife, Vanessa. His proficiency has reached the point he can and does conduct the occasional interview in Spanish.

For a kid who bypassed college Bryant seems refreshingly open to learning, to broadening his horizons. He doesn't get enough credit for his curiosity, so blinded is everyone by his dribble drives.

There go Madsen and Bryant. Adios amigos!.

Here comes the second bus. See that guy wearing the headband? That's Derek Fisher, who came back from foot surgery to kick some major asterisk in the postseason.

You're probably aware he made 53.9 percent of his 3-pointers in the playoffs - 41 of 76. But did you know when Fisher was growing up in Arkansas, Lakers teammate Ron Harper's face was the last one he saw before falling asleep every night?

Harper, a streaking comet before injuries brought him down to earth, spent his first three NBA seasons with the Cleveland Cavaliers. He spent many more NBA seasons than that on Fisher's bedroom wall. Long before Fisher knew him as ``Old Head,'' Harper was the ``Ohio Flyer'' on the poster Fisher studied before sleeping.

Fisher teases Harper all the time about being old enough to be his childhood idol. That's probably why Harper is hitting Fisher on the back with his floppy Gilligan hat right now.

Harper takes a lot of grief from his younger teammates. No wonder he escapes whenever he can to the golf course.

To say that Harper enjoys golf would be an understatement. It's like saying Lakers owner Jerry Buss appreciates women young enough to be his granddaughters.

Harper is obsessed with golf. He logged many more minutes at Riviera Country Club this season than the 1,183 he did on the court. It wasn't unusual for one of Harper's regular golfing partners to receive a cell phone call from him from the Lakers locker room within minutes of a game's conclusion.

``7 o'clock,'' Harper would say and hang up.

It was code for, ``We don't have practice tomorrow. Meet me at Riviera at 7 and we'll play 18. Or 36.''

Oh, look! There's Rick Fox waving from the third bus. How could you miss him? He's only the most photogenic person this side of his wife, Vanessa Williams.

Fox is so much more than a pretty face. He works harder than air conditioning units in the Valley do this time of year. This season Fox routinely spent as much as an hour after practice building his leg muscles on the stair-step machine or stationary bicycle.

As he pumped his legs Fox would pore over Hollywood trade magazines or scripts. That's what it's like when your life is one endless double-double.

Speaking of double-doubles, there's O'Neal in the fourth bus. The 7-foot center recorded a double-double in each of the Lakers' postseason games. Flanking him is Isaiah Rider, who took on the role formally filled by Jerome Crawford after being left off the Lakers' playoff roster.

Crawford is O'Neal's longtime bodyguard but it was Rider who was seen shooing the autograph seekers off after a game in Sacramento and clearing a path for O'Neal to make his exit.

O'Neal is bigger, more powerful and more dependable than the SUV sitting in your garage. Coming in October, you can own the steel-and-chrome version of The Biggest Wheel. O'Neal helped design a Ford SUV that features 22-inch custom wheels, a 580-watt sound system and a TV and DVD player.

O'Neal included the fancy entertainment system in the car because not everybody can ferry around his teammates Greg Foster, Brian Shaw and Tyronn Lue. They are funnier than the Three Stooges. Indeed, they carry on as if they are auditioning for a permanent stand-up spot on Jay Leno.

They're in the fifth bus. It's the one rolling in the street, no doubt because they have managed to split its sides with their endless jokes.

See the guy in the sixth bus that appears to be throwing confetti from the rail? That's Horace Grant and if you look closer, you'll see those are candy wrappers he's throwing.

Grant is a Mars spokesman waiting to happen. His pregame meal includes one or two chocolate bars. He'll gorge on one or two more at halftime. He has to hide his habit from coach Phil Jackson, eating the candy on the sly like a child snacking an hour before dinner, because Jackson doesn't approve of his energy-boosting habit.

Don't be surprised if the seventh bus veers away from the others and heads straight for the Roscoe's House of Chicken 'n' Waffles joint on Pico Boulevard. Devean George goes there after every home game for a midnight meal.

Maybe the bus will continue straight on to Houston, at Robert Horry's request. Horry has a wife and two children in that Texas town that he leaves behind for half the year so he can entertain us.

Horry doesn't know how much longer he can split his life in two like that. His 7-year-old daughter requires constant medical attention because of a congenital throat defect and she is comfortable with her doctors. They are, after all, the only ones she has known.

If Horry looks a little distracted, well, you can understand. He has a big decision to make in the next couple of weeks.

We'll be back or our name isn't Dinah Stee. See you right here next year. Same place, same time.

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LAKERS CHAMPIONSHIP PARADE

Gregg Miller/Daily News