Lot of buzz here. Just that “big event” feel. I’m thinking there’s more electricity around the place than even in 2004, only four years ago.

When I got my credential, I almost ran into Bill Walton, who looked quite spry (given reports of him being nearly immobilized for months by a bad back). Asked about the series, Bill said, “Gonna go seven, baby.”

He wouldn’t predict who would win, though.

Then I turned invisible, once I got into the arena. … Because I walked in right behind Kobe Bryant.

Kobe had on a light gray suit, and his game face, about two hours before tipoff. He was drawn toward the locker room by a network camera crew, and not for the first time I wondered about how tiring it must be, eventually, to have your every motion televised by somebody. Like, what happens if your butt gets itchy? Can’t touch it.

Phil Jackson and Doc Rivers just came into the interview room to field a few questions. It helps the journalists, given that it’s already 8:15 p.m. in Boston. It helps to get some new material … because the game is going to end about midnight, East coast, and newspapers back there won’t be able to take much new information.

I’m going to be writing columns out of the three games here in Los Angeles — provided there are three, and I’m not at all sure about that — for the Californian in Temecula. The North County Times may use my stuff as well, or at least will post it on its website.

Interesting thing: How even the collapse of the newspaper industry seems to have little or no effect on the geometric explosion of interest in the NBA Finals. If I recall correctly, 1,900 “media” people were credentialed for this playoffs. That’s crazy. But it just keeps getting bigger, even as old-time journalism gets smaller.

I’ll head upstairs to my media seat, here in a bit.