If Pat Williams awoke Wednesday at 6 a.m., it probably wasn't to the sound of Sonny and Cher's "I Got You Babe" on a clock radio near his bed.

But like Bill Murray's character in "Groundhog Day," Williams and everyone else with an Orlando Magic connection must think they're reliving the same bad dream. For the past three years, the NBA playoffs have been a reminder of that day in Atlanta in July 1996, when Shaquille O'Neal displayed for the first time a No. 34 Los Angeles Lakers jersey with his name on it.

Since then, the Magic's name has largely been mud.

"There will always be pain," said Williams, who had been their general manager until John Gabriel replaced him that April. "But probably from the moment we drafted him in '92, the whole L.A. thing was always there."

The Lakers hadn't been to the NBA Finals since 1991 and had won but one playoff series during Shaq's four seasons with the Magic. They weren't about to be mistaken for the crosstown Clippers, but they weren't title contenders either.

THE RULES HAVE CHANGED

All that changed with the help of rules that no longer exist regarding the courting of another team's free agent.

Jerry West, who had gambled by trading Vlade Divac to Charlotte on draft night for the rights to an 18-year-old named Kobe Bryant, created further salary-cap room by sending Anthony Peeler and George Lynch to Vancouver for two future second-round picks. Those transactions sold Shaq and his agent, Leonard Armato, on how serious the Lakers' intentions were.

"It was not just something that happened," Williams said. "They planned it. They worked it. They took some bold, bold risks."

West is no longer with the Lakers. Armato no longer represents Shaq. Franchises no longer exist in Charlotte and Vancouver.

But were it not for Shaq and Kobe being on the same team -- if not always on the same wavelength -- Phil Jackson wouldn't have taken his triangle offense and Zen mastery to the Lakers when they came calling in 1999. It was only then that Shaq shed his reputation as being more interested in making rap CDs and bad movies than winning championships.

HORRY TO THE RESCUE

In the Magic's defense, Shaq seldom handled adversity well with them. When they were swept by Jackson's Chicago Bulls in the '96 Eastern Conference finals, he scored a total of 10 points in fourth quarters. Brooks Thompson, who would be out of the league two years later, had 11 points in the final period of Game 4 alone.

And when Robert Horry nailed a buzzer-beating 3-pointer the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, he did more than save the Lakers from falling behind 3-1 to the Sacramento Kings in their classic best-of-seven series. Horry also saved Shaq from a torrent of criticism about why he short-armed a putback of a missed shot by Bryant in the closing seconds.

But Shaq's dominance against the New Jersey Nets has been something to behold, if the Magic can somehow bear to watch without wincing. Williams hasn't found the time to pay rapt attention to the latest Lakers coronation. He's applying the finishing touches to a book scheduled for a mid-August release, entitled "Winning With One-Liners."

Maybe Jackson ought to take a cue and put out a book of his own. How about "Winning With One Center"?