At the center of all this, of course, is the Lakers and everyone's love affair with them, their outstanding record and their so-so play at times.

But when it comes to writing about the Lakers, just what do you scribble these days? All that matters is their record. Or, should we expect more from them?

Before I get to Kris Kringle and Natalie Wood, I begin with my parents. They were as good as any when it came to employing cliches in child rearing, and so when I took a job as a cook at an all-girls' dorm, my mom said, "Be the best cook you can be."

I think my dad said something like, "Mister, you lucky dog," but when I took another job, he said, "mister," and sometimes I wondered if he forgot my name, "Mister, be the best you can be."

Mom and Dad always maintained it didn't matter how much money you made -- which explains why I went to work for a newspaper -- but just be the best you can be. Every Little League, Basketball and football coach said the same thing. "Doesn't matter if we win or lose," they'd all say before sending me to the bench. "Just give it your best."

Most folks have probably heard the same thing, the only ones not listening, the ones making millions of dollars and wearing purple and gold costumes to work.

That's what makes writing about these prima donnas so difficult. You watch the best collection of talent in the game, and they win a lot because they are the best collection of talent in the game, but they're not always giving it their best.

I know Mom and Dad would not approve.

There are others, though, who look upon the Lakers with unconditional love, anything but rave reviews dismissed as being too negative. Have you seen Vladimir Radmanovic play?

This season the Lakers are special. We don't get to see special very often in our lives. They go deep with talent in a conference that suddenly doesn't look all that deep and have the best coach in the history of the NBA in charge.

Is it too much to demand that they live up to being special?

They could win most every game. There are excuses -- travel, fatigue and bad bounces -- but if they were being the very best they could be at all times, I guess they'd be just like the Boston Celtics.

THE OTHER option is to always be positive about the Lakers, and maybe lie like our parents.

You've got mothers and fathers right now looking their kids in the eye and telling them if they're not good, Santa Claus won't be coming. Right now, boys and girls, Santa is busy at the North Pole making toys.

Take the 7-Eleven Kid. She's scared to death of the old buzzard. Reminds her of Dwyre, she says.

But her parents dragged her to see Santa, telling the petrified kid she wouldn't get anything for Christmas unless she did.

Her little heart pounding, she said she'd go if her 3-year-old friend stood beside Santa holding the 7-Eleven Kid's doll/baby by one arm -- the 7-Eleven Kid holding the other arm of the baby and thereby keeping a distance of about three feet between her and Santa.

Later she'd tell me how "brave" she was for getting so close to Santa. I wanted to tell her Santa really is a Grocery Store Bagger just to see the look on her face, but she had done the very best she could to please her parents.

There's plenty of time yet to devastate the kid, making this whole business of when to tell the truth a tricky thing, although it seems like everyone is happier when you lie.

"The Lakers are just fantastic!" See what I mean.

The truth is the Lakers appear bored many nights, a lock to make the playoffs and probably earning the No. 1 seeding in the West with ease, and like their coach just waiting for them to begin.

But I just love the headline over the Mark Heisler column on latimes.com today: "Celtics burn with desire, but will they burn out?" At the risk of being called negative, don't you wish the Lakers had such a concern?

Who wants to hear the truth, though, which brings me to some of our e-mailers, Maureen O'Hara in her prime, Wood as a kid, Kris Kringle and "Miracle on 34th Street."

They were showing the remake Saturday, nowhere as good as the original, but still the mother was telling her kid there is no Santa.

"Truth," the mother says, "is one of the most important things in the world," the rest of the movie then going on to prove there really is a Santa, and the mother just fine with the lie in the end because she gets a man and a new house out of it.

If the Lakers go on to win the championship, no one is going to remember anything about a December throw-away game in Miami.

But right now, what do you write about these guys? The Lakers' record is all that matters, so why dwell on the negative?

Or, when are the prima donnas going to be the best they can at all times?

As the mother explains to the kid before "Miracle on 34th Street" comes to a close, "I told you the truth, but you have the right to believe what you want."

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t.j.simers@latimes.com