HEARN LIVES ON IN FANS' MINDS AS `ONE OF US'.

Byline: DOUG KRIKORIAN

Death will prevent Chick Hearn from calling any more Lakers games, but we all know better.

It's a ``slam dunk'' he forever will be part of the team's broadcasts because his ``words'-eye view'' will be carried on by successors who will describe a marginal call on Shaquille O'Neal as a ``ticky-tack foul'' or will equate a gravity-defying move by Kobe Bryant to ``being faked into the popcorn machine'' or a misguided shot attempt by Mark Madsen as ``an air ball.''

Chick Hearn, the Lakers franchise's most enduring superstar, a man who spanned nine U.S. Presidential administrations, a person who emerged as the most popular play-by-play voice in Los Angeles history even with the peerless Vin Scully in the same vicinity, no longer around entertaining us with his magical vocal cords?

I don't believe it.

I can't even envision it.

I simply can't fathom ``yo-yoing'' through an entire Lakers season without the presence of Chickie Baby, who always was there, through Elgin and Jerry and Wilt and Gail and Happy, through Magic and Kareem and James and Byron and Michael and Norman, through Shaq and Kobe and Robert and Derek and Rick, through Robert Short and Jack Kent Cooke and Ol' Doc Buss, through glorious times and heartbreak times and lousy times, through memorable games and games not so memorable that Hearn somehow would make interesting.

He never will spiritually depart those of us who thrilled to his ability to turn even the most banal regular-season games into recreations of World War III by spewing out colorful descriptions in his rapid-fire narrative that kept us all transfixed.

``Why is Chick Hearn so popular with L.A. fans?'' a media inquisitor asked me over the weekend.

That's an easy one.

Chick Hearn, more than any other play-by-play announcer, was one of us.

Unlike a Vin Scully, a lyrical poet who steadfastly maintains a sense of detachment during his work, Hearn always was a roller coaster of emotions, routinely engaging in hyperbolic utterances, meting out criticism and praise in equal shares much like garden-variety patrons do when watching Lakers proceedings at taverns.

Hearn was able to capsulize our feelings in his descriptions of the team, and you always felt like you were getting an honest portrayal from a man you knew had a passionate fondness for the Lakers.

You knew that Chick Hearn's timeless reign would have to come to a finish, as everything in life inevitably does.

But it's a difficult reality to accept because Chick Hearn has become such a sacred part of the Southern California ambience that you just figured he'd last into infinity.

I first met Hearn in 1966 when I was fresh out of college, and I always will be appreciative of his kindness toward me when I took my first Lakers road trip in November of 1968, as he introduced me to all the members of the team, including Elgin Baylor, Wilt Chamberlain and Jerry West.

He had a natural wit and his one-liners on the bus rides to the arenas and in the waiting areas at the airports always inspired loud laughter among the players. He's one of the funniest men I've ever been around and I always thought he could have made it big as a standup comic had he not chosen sportscasting as his destiny.

He has been the greatest broadcaster L.A. ever had, one who built a fanatic cult following that deified him.

There never will be another Chick Hearn.

Maybe death has put his broadcasting career into the refrigerator.

And maybe the door's closed. And the lights are out. And the eggs are cooling. And the butter is getting hard. And the Jell-O is jiggling.

But for those of us who knew him and listened to him and clung to his every frantic word, Chick Hearn will remain forever.

CHICK-ISMS

Some of the language of basketball invented by Chick Hearn:

Air ball: A shot that misses everything.

Call it in Braille: An easy call for an official to make.

Bunny hop in a pea patch: When a player travels in the lane.

Can't throw a pea in an ocean: A team that's shooting terribly.

Caught with his hand in the cookie jar: A reaching-in foul.

Charity stripe: Free-throw line.

Counts if it goes ... it goes!: When a player is fouled in the act of shooting and makes the basket.

Didn't draw iron: A shot that misses the rim and hits the backboard.

Dribble drive: A drive to the basket while dribbling.

Finger roll: The shot rolls off the shooter's fingers, one Wilt Chamberlain made famous.

Frozen rope: A shot with flat trajectory.

Garbage time: When the game is for all intents and purposes over and bench players are in.

Give and go: When a player passes the ball to a teammate and cuts to the basket for a return pass.

Heartbreak: A shot that looks like it's going in but comes out.

Leapin' leana: A shot in the lane falling toward the basket.

Mr. Clutch: Hearn's nickname for Jerry West.

Matador defense: Poor play by the opposing team that allows an easy shot, like a matador pulling away his cape from a charging bull.

Motorcycle on a motordrome: When the ball spins around the rim a few times then comes out or goes in.

Mustard's off the hot dog: A player tries a showy pass or shot but it ends in a turnover.

Nervous time: When a close game comes down to the final minutes.

No harm, no foul: A non-call by an official despite contact.

Not a Phi Beta Kappa play: Not a smart play.

Put him in the popcorn machine: When a player fakes an opponent out so badly he leaps and misses.

Slaaaaam dunk: A dunk with authority.

The game's in the refrigerator, the door's closed, the light's out, the eggs are coolin', the butter's gettin' hard and the Jell-O's jigglin': Called before the final buzzer when it appears the Lakers have a victory wrapped up.

Tattoo dribble: Dribbling the ball on the floor in the same spot.

Telegraphs a pass: Trying an obvious pass that the defender sees before it's made.

Throws up a prayer: A wild shot.

Ticky-tack: A foul called with little contact.

Triple-double: A player gets double figures in three categories, such as Magic Johnson did with points, rebounds and assists.

Unanswered points: When one team scores a string of points without the other team scoring.

Words-eye view: Hearn's description of the game.

Yo-yoing the ball up and down: Dribbling the ball like a yo-yo on a string.

CAPTION(S):

photo, box

Photo:

Chick Hearn calling a Lakers game in 1971

File Photo

Box:

CHICK-ISMS (see text)