Editor’s note: Lakers film analyst Pete Zayas will revisit each game of the 2010 NBA Finals victory over the Boston Celtics. But first, Pete looks back to June 17, 2010 and how he experienced that night when the Lakers secured a title repeat and the franchise’s 16th NBA championship.

I debated buying a ticket to Game 7 of the 2010 NBA Finals on the day of the game, even though I couldn’t afford it. At one point, I had a shot at getting my hands on a ticket in the very last row of an off-centered section in the 300s. It would’ve cost $750 plus fees, and while I’ll always wonder what it would’ve been like to be in the building that night, I chose to pay my rent that month instead.

Watching the game at a bar across the street from Staples Center seemed like the next best thing. If I couldn’t be inside the arena, then at least I could be near it.

I was working a rat race job that I didn’t particularly like at the time, but at least it was located in the Financial District of Downtown Los Angeles about a mile away from the arena. My closest work friend was also a Lakers fan, and we decided that we were going to take off the second half of the day to catch the game at some establishment at L.A. Live across the street from Staples.

We had to get there before noon, even though tipoff wasn’t until just after 5 p.m. Not only was Game 7 of the Finals happening that night, but the L.A. Convention Center was hosting the E3 video game convention and the L.A. Film Festival was under way at the Regal Cinemas as well. The L.A. Police Department estimated that there would be 250,000 people concentrated in and around L.A. Live that evening and decided to shut down access to the area at noon as a means of crowd control.

We ended up at the first-floor bar at the newly constructed Ritz-Carlton hotel. The room was packed to its capacity with Lakers fans. We shimmied our way toward the back in hopes of finding somewhere to sit, but prime real estate like that was claimed long before we got there. It was standing room only for the next eight hours.

There are worse things than being stuck at a bar with a friend for hours on end, but these were no ordinary circumstances. The Lakers were about to play for the highest stakes imaginable — in a Game 7 against the Boston Celtics. As a child of the 1980s, I didn’t need any additional reason to hate the Celtics, but the flames of rivalry were stoked not only by birthright but also recent history, namely the Lakers’ defeat to Boston in the 2008 Finals.

The last three seasons had been building toward this moment, and I was a nervous wreck. What followed was the most stressful sports experience of my life.

It was a surreal basketball game. The desperate efforts of each team gridlocked the action in a way that’s only possible between familiar enemies. Both defenses could anticipate the offense’s next move, and every point was earned.

Almost no one shot well in that game — especially Kobe Bryant. I’d been defending him on various internet message boards for years under the pretense that he was a misunderstood genius who would do anything to win. Suddenly, he couldn’t throw a pea in the ocean and was obviously pressing in one of the most important games in Lakers history? Were he and the Lakers really going to lose a Game 7 at home to the hated Celtics? After losing to them two years before? Were they really going to go out like this? The idea of the Celtics — particularly that Celtics team — celebrating their 18th title on the Staples Center floor still makes me nauseous.

The crowd at the hotel bar grew more restless with every Lakers misstep, and the mood turned somber as the Celtics built a 13-point third-quarter lead.

I wish I could remember the comeback with the clarity that I remember the rest of this day, but I don’t. I remember the Lakers chipping away at Boston’s lead over a long period of time rather than making some quick-strike, 10-0 run over a couple of minutes. It was a slow ascension from impending doom to less impending doom to, “Hey, we’re only down seven!” to “Holy crap, we’re in this game!”

A sense of optimism swelled in the bar at the same deliberate pace of the Lakers’ comeback. It grew over 30-40 minutes, and eventually the levee broke, whipping us into a frenzy. Deafening “LET’S GO LAKERS!” chants pulsed throughout the bar as though we were trying to get them to hear us in Staples across the street.

Derek Fisher hit the shot that tied the game. Kobe sank a huge, elbow pull-up jumper. Ron Artest buried that 3-pointer from the right wing. Boston made a pair of 3s to keep it close before Sasha Vujacic iced it with two clutch free throws. Rajon Rondo finally missed a stepback 3, Odom tracked down the rebound and flung the ball into the front court and Bryant tracked it down with his fist triumphantly raised in the air.

The Lakers had defeated the Celtics to win the 2010 NBA championship. And we lost our damn minds at that bar.

Indecipherable exclamations of happiness came from rejoicing Lakers fans as we simultaneously hugged and spilled beer on each other. We poured out onto Chick Hearn Court, eventually ending up on Figueroa Street as a mass of humanity began to coalesce in the middle of the street.

Being at the ground level of that championship celebration was the experience of a lifetime. We didn’t have much agency on which direction we were moving at that point, so we just rode the wave that the sea of people created behind us. We headed north on Figueroa before veering east a few blocks later. The revelry took a darker turn about 20 minutes after it started, as someone threw a trash can through the window of an office building while others attempted to overturn a parked car. That was our cue to get the hell out of there.

We left the emerging riot and hit up a taco truck on 7th Street. We hung a left on Grand as we wolfed down our food, approaching the below street level entrance of Casey’s Irish Pub. We were just looking to grab a beer and watch the TV coverage of L.A. going crazy, so this place was as good as any.

But when we walked in, the bar was mostly empty. One TV was on a NASCAR race, while the other was tuned in to the MLB Network. I thought, “Huh, that’s weird. The Lakers just won an NBA championship about a mile away from here, and not only is this place empty, they’re not even watching the aftermath of that on TV.”

And then it hit me … Casey’s Irish Pub? Did I just stumble into A FREAKING CELTICS BAR IN THE MIDDLE OF DOWNTOWN L.A.? That would explain why it’s empty and the TVs aren’t on basketball.

I never asked anyone who worked there if that was the exact reason because I loved the idea of obliviously walking into a Celtics bar and asking them to change the channel to Lakers championship coverage. So I choose to believe that that’s where the smattering of Celtics fans living in Los Angeles decided to watch Game 7 in the heart of enemy territory that day. I imagined them shuffling out of the bar in despondence while being serenaded by the inescapable cacophony of celebrating Lakers fans.

I marinated in that fantasy over a couple of beers before we wistfully called it a night around 10 p.m., as people who have to work the next day sometimes have to do. It had been a long day. I took the Metro Red Line before transferring to the Gold Line, ending at a stop in Monterey Park. It was a long enough commute home to where I had time to reflect on the day’s events, particularly the game.

It felt like the conclusion of a three-year journey. Yes, I wanted the Lakers to three-peat in 2011, but I knew it was probably over. They had given too much of their hearts and souls to accomplish their final unconquered goal — exacting revenge on the hated Celtics team that beat them two years prior. That feeling of finality helped me appreciate the moment even more. It was the end of another golden age of Lakers basketball.

But I’ve never wanted to rewatch that series, even with knowledge of the eventual outcome. It was like a great horror movie that scared the crap out of me. I loved it, but I never wanted to watch it again.

My feelings on that have changed amid everything that is happening in the world right now. Downtown Los Angeles is mostly empty these days, but rewatching the 2010 NBA Finals will remind me of a time when the Lakers worked together to overcome adversity and joyous sounds filled the streets. In my next column, we will begin to re-live those memories with a look at Game 1.

(Photo of Kobe Bryant and Lamar Odom: Lisa Blumenfeld / Getty Images)