It’s Easy to See What’s Missing

Outside a quiet Staples Center entrance Tuesday night -- the first and maybe biggest night of the Laker season -- there flapped but a single strand of purple and gold balloons.

It was both metaphor and message amid a scene that was far from maddening.

There were no surging crowds. There was no pounding pulse. You could walk across 11th Street on your hands. You could skip along the sidewalk in front of the statues without touching a soul.

Where there was once buzz, there was only a chilly breeze.

Where there were once folks shoving to see the Lakers in their season opener, there was only this poor radio employee who couldn’t give away American flags, free, on election night.

“Where is everybody?” he asked.

Um, long story.

Suffice to say, the ending was the beginning Tuesday, the Lakers taking the floor for the first time in nine years without Shaquille O’Neal, for the first time in six years without Phil Jackson.

The NBA’s most entertaining parade without its star elephant, the NBA’s coolest team without its mantra.

The Lakers taking the floor with only that single strand of purple and gold balloons.

That would be, of course, Kobe Bryant, who was on his best behavior as the Lakers won easily against the horrifically overrated or just plain lousy Denver Nuggets, 89-78.

An interesting win, but not like the previous eight years of wins.

A full house, but the cheers weren’t as intense.

An 11-point victory, but just not as fun.

This Laker team may eventually become as compelling as those past ones, what with their new emphasis on running and teamwork.

Heck, Bryant had only one fewer assist in the first quarter -- three -- than he had in the entire Finals finale against Detroit.

He was sharing the ball as well as he’s ever shared it, and making his teammates look better as they outscored the running Nuggets, 19-6, on fastbreaks and held them to 34% shooting.

“Basketball is always fun, and now we have a great group of guys,” he said. “I haven’t been around a tighter group.”

And, yes, in the fourth quarter of a game already decided, that was Bryant losing the ball near his basket, then sprinting down court to block an ensuing Andre Miller layup.

“One of the best plays I’ve ever seen,” said new Coach Rudy Tomjanovich. “I thought that was the best example of a turnaround play that I’ve ever had.”

Maybe this will indeed be an unselfish new era, and maybe we will come to enjoy Tomjanovich’s fists pumps as much as we enjoyed Phil Jackson’s, well, his crossed legs.

“I thought I was subdued,” said Tomjanovich with a grin.

But for now, this new team felt like a new pair of leather loafers.

Tight, a little uncomfortable, and one can only hope that comfort will arrive before the blisters.

When Bryant found Chris Mihm inside, you wondered, last spring, why couldn’t he have made more of those passes to O’Neal?

The ally-oop dunks were missing some of their oop. The floor under the basket was missing Derek Fisher. The jersey of Denver’s Carmelo Anthony was missing the elbow of Rick Fox.

The entire room was missing the giant smile of you-know-who.

“This is different,” acknowledged Jeffrey Osborne who, thank goodness, sang the national anthem.

During those couple of wonderful minutes, he was one of the only guys on the court that I recognized.

Shortly before 6 p.m., a Laker walked past me in the hallway.

“Who’s that?” I said.

“Chucky Atkins,” said a somewhat irritated NBA scribe.

Oh, yeah.

The new starting point guard.

The guy who occupies O’Neal’s old locker.

All around him in there, the locker room looks as if someone sneaked in during the night and stole the nameplates and the laughter.

Outside, Tomjanovich was occupying Jackson’s podium for the pregame news conference, only, he was about 10 minutes late.

Those newcomers and their traffic.

“I have to find a better way,” said Tomjanovich, who seemed right at home on the bench, from where he gestured more in four quarters than Jackson in five years.

Only, the four seats next to the Laker coaching staff were empty during the first quarter, and when is the last time that happened?

The only thing stranger was the two seats on the other side of the court being occupied by Kurt Rambis eating ice cream and Tex Winter in dungarees.

Shortly before tipoff, the Lakers unfurled those big scoreboard sheets that could have been wool.

“A legacy is created through change ... the courage to evolve,” read one panel.

While the word “courage” shouldn’t be used in relation to any sport in these days of war, the point was clear, if not easily supported.

The Lakers want us to believe that they will eventually be a better team.

It would have been more believable if, at one point when Tuesday’s game was still in doubt, the floor wasn’t occupied with Lakers named Grant, Brian Cook, Tierre Brown, Jumaine Jones and Kareem Rush.

The best way to explain Tuesday, perhaps, is to note that the biggest ovation came during the nightly kiss-cam feature, when the giant scoreboard featured a dude kissing women on either side of him.

Yeah, it was a nice game and all, but you left thinking, if only a certain other threesome had gotten along so well.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.