When Chuck Person arrived in Los Angeles for training camp, he had never before said a word to Bryant. Person, a former Pacers and Kings assistant, was hired by the Lakers as a special assistant because of his close relationship with the newly acquired Ron Artest. The Lakers wanted somebody to help Artest with his transition. They did not need anybody to help Bryant with his shooting. But Person, who spent 13 years stretching NBA defenses, had studied Bryant's stroke from afar, marveling at his footwork, his vertical leap, his power of separation. "There was just one thing," Person says, "that I felt I could enhance."
A young player is taught, from the time he can lift the ball overhead, to finish the shot with his index finger pointed at the ground. "Kobe was following through with so much of the index that the ball was turning ever so slightly off that finger and he was getting a little sidespin," Person says. "When he wasn't right on, the ball would roll off the rim." Person believed he could help Bryant, but he had to be tactful about it. He could not just walk up to one of the best scorers ever and tinker with his shot. He needed an opening.
On Dec. 11 Los Angeles played the Timberwolves, and point guard Jordan Farmar made a lazy pass to Bryant at the three-point line. Timberwolves forward Corey Brewer lunged for it, deflecting the ball off Bryant's right index finger. Told he had an avulsion fracture, Bryant refused to sit out, and the next night in Utah he missed 17 of 24 shots, including eight of nine three-pointers. The time was right for Person. He approached Bryant and explained that he too had suffered an avulsion fracture in his index finger, with Indiana in 1991. He also told Bryant that the injury presented an opportunity.
"I asked him for his trust," Person says, "and I told him that we should start working together. He didn't argue with me. He bought in right away." Person wanted Bryant to put more pressure on the middle and ring fingers in his release, creating more backspin and friendlier rolls off the rim. The pad Bryant had to wear on the index finger would force him to concentrate on the other two.
The day after the Utah game, Bryant and Person convened early at the Lakers' training facility and shot for one hour before practice. The next day they did the same. Then they flew to Chicago and worked out that night at the United Center. During a break Bryant asked Person, "Did you ever score 40 points with your finger this way?" Person said he did. For Bryant it was a rare moment of self-doubt, and then it was gone. "I'm going to get 50," he said. They arrived at the United Center early the next morning for a shootaround, stayed late, and that night Bryant lit up the Bulls for 42 points on 15-of-26 shooting. A day later he scored 39 in Milwaukee, with a game-winner at the buzzer.
Penetrating Bryant's circle is not easy, but Person had a way in. As a freshman at Brantley (Ala.) High School 31 years ago, Person attended a summer basketball camp at Auburn University. The guest counselor was Jerry West, who as the Lakers executive vice president would bring Bryant from high school to Los Angeles 17 years later. "All the things I told Kobe," Person says, "are things Jerry West told me at that camp." Person persuaded Bryant to raise the ball straight into his shot instead of holding it for a moment at his hip, which has quickened his release; lift his right elbow from nose level to forehead level, which has heightened his arc; and keep that elbow pointed at the basket no matter how his body is contorted. "If you saw a tape of him shooting six months ago," Person says, "it would look completely different."
Many in the organization did not understand why Bryant insisted on playing with the broken finger. He could afford to take time off in December; they needed him healthy in June. As it turned out, playing in December is exactly what prepared Bryant for June. He spent the regular season refashioning his shot in time for the playoffs. The transition was not always easy—his field goal percentage, free throw percentage and three-point percentage all dipped as Person's tinkering intensified—but it was necessary. Although the fracture has healed, Bryant was left with an arthritic knuckle on his index finger that is swollen and painful but appears to affect him not at all. "It's almost helped to some degree," says Lakers shooting coach Craig Hodges. "at the net when Kobe shoots now. The ball sinks to the bottom, and 'Pow!' It pops up. That's the backspin he's getting from the middle finger." The index finger is just supposed to hold the ball. The middle finger is supposed to do the work.
Bryant's longevity is a by-product of the many subtle adjustments he has made over the years, starting in 1999, when he broke his right hand and spent all of training camp developing his left. Back then, defenders would dare Bryant to shoot from outside, an unfathomable strategy today. They also tried to lock him up in the post, equally unthinkable. "I don't know any better post player in the game now," West says. Next up for Bryant, says Lakers assistant Jim Cleamons, "he will learn to come off screens so the ball will work for him and he won't have to beat everybody." Bryant's endless improvements require a kind of humility, the best player in the game forever open to the idea that he can get better.
Showing posts with label KOBE BRYANT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label KOBE BRYANT. Show all posts
6.15.2010
12.30.2009
KOBE BRYANT - DIME MAGAZINE
KOBE BRYANT, “IN HIS OWN WORDS”
Dime Magazine
Hunger defines me. I've always been hungry, but now my appetite has risen to a new level. My will is greater than ever. The motivation to succeed runs through me like blood. In this 10th year, my 10th season as an NBA player, the mountain I once climbed to reach the top looms in front of me again. I realize how hard it will be to climb it, how much I will have to sacrifice and overcome to get to the top again, how many people have told me I can't do it. But I savor that challenge. Feed off of it. That challenge helps give me purpose and inspiration. It helps me define life.
At the beginning of this season there was a question floating around in my mind. What is my purpose? On one level I understood the reasons for why I do what I do, but on another level I felt an even greater commitment tugging at my soul. I'm a ballplayer, a teammate. A leader. But is that it? When I look back at my rookie season, I realize that all of the faces that once surrounded me are gone. I was a kid back then, eager to please, eager to find my place in a world that seemed familiar but different. The game was my refuge. I'd been going to it ever since I was six years old, in Italy, playing alone on courts thousands of miles away from kids who shared my same love. In a way, my dedication to basketball defined me. But that definition has grown. The struggles I've encountered over the last few years have made me realize just how much more there is for me to accomplish. I've begun a new phase of my life; I've opened new doors. And with new doors comes a whole new world of challenges.
In my life I have won and accomplished much. I own three NBA championship rings. I've had plenty of endorsement deals and made a lot of money from them. But still, I feel as if I have yet to fulfill the blessing that God has given me in my ability to play this game. I feel as if there is so much more to do, on the court and off it.
I don't know if this is how I am supposed to feel. Did MJ, Magic and the others feel the same way? In our society it seems like athletes are expected to care about winning the game, pleasing the crowd, and signing deals. Period. But am I supposed to obsess myself with winning only to win, retire and wonder if all my sacrifices were worth it? Is it OK for me to sacrifice time away from my children, time watching them grow up, missing Easter, Christmas and other special moments, to win a ring?
What I have come to learn is that my desire to win, the will to pursue my goals with the highest level of intensity and passion, defines me. But I have been careful to keep my motivation pure. The distractions that come with winning, the idea of playing for the money or playing for the fame and prestige — I've watched all of these things consume other players. My thirst for domination is fed only by the game. I refuse to get distracted by outside forces.
This is a new book in my career. Volume 1 has already been written. Everything that I accomplished before is behind me: not forgotten, but placed on the shelf. My past success only serves as a measuring stick for my peers. A whole new crop of players has emerged since I came into the League. All of them want the honor of holding the title of "best all-around player". But I feel as if that quest is behind me now and a new one has taken its place. I am an underdog. A challenge was issued to me by everyone who said I would never succeed again, that I would never win another ring or enjoy another parade. I accepted their challenge. I accepted the doubt of every one who spoke of my downfall and used their words as fuel. I have a franchise to resurrect, a city of fans to uplift.
That mountain, the one that I climbed once and now face again, is huge. I'm looking up at it again. And because I know how hard it was to climb, I sometimes feel drained because I know how difficult it will be to conquer. It's much harder to go from top to bottom to the top again than it is to simply go from the bottom to the top. But desire is the ultimate fuel. Hunger changes any situation. My past experience gives me knowledge that backs up my will. I know what must be done. My team is sometimes unsure because my teammates have never climbed this mountain before.
At times it's frustrating and it tries my patience, but in the beginning years of my career my teammates were patient with me and trusted in the fact that I would figure everything out, so now I must return that favor to this generation of Lakers. This is our challenge, our mountain, and these are my brothers. I must guide them to the point we all want to get to. No matter what.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have been learning about the ambition inside me since I was a kid. It was there during the hours I would spend on a playground in Italy and a group of my friends would come to me and tell me I would never be an NBA player. It was there during all the time I would practice alone, imitating the moves I'd seen on television and creating new ones to go with them. It was there when nothing else was there, and I learned to incorporate it with the game, to wrap myself in the game and seek my future within it. Whenever someone would say what my Italian friends had said, whenever anyone told me what I couldn't do, I would grab hold of that feeling inside me and realize that it was there for a reason. I have always had a purpose, a need to succeed. People who try to discourage me only add fuel to a fire that has always burned. Every phase of my life has brought me new risks and new rewards; in many ways I have always been the underdog. And through it all, through every struggle, the game has always been there. It has never left me alone.
I love the game. I really do. As a kid, when things were bad for me at school or at home, I would go to the park and envision the dream. You've probably had that same one: I'd be playing for the Lakers, winning championships and hitting the game winning shots. I'd listen to the crowd roar when I put the dagger in the other team's heart, and on the road I'd hear the silence of other teams' arenas. I've actually done these things in my career. But I had done them before, because in my mind and in my heart it felt so real to me. So when I was there I had been there before.
What thrills me most about the game is the purity of it and the chance to master it. The process, the work, the beauty of it has always inspired me. I remember when I was 15 years old and wanted to be famous and be on TV. That desire didn't motivate me to play or overshadow the essence of the game, but like any kid I thought being a celebrity would be cool.
As I've gotten older and actually become famous I realize that it's not what I thought it would be. But this is a good thing. Because it means that, in my heart, I never played the game for "spotlight" reasons. I played because I loved it. I played because it meant more to me than even I knew. When I needed someone to lean on, a place to vent, a place to celebrate or a place to cry, the game became all of these things for me. And because the game has given me so much I know that I must give it the respect it deserves. I must work hard to master it, to show it my appreciation for all it has done for me as a person, as a man. That's the reason I'm able to play under severe pressure or stress. The game has actually helped me cope with it. It has helped me win. Not in terms of the points scored, but in terms of the struggles that I have overcome. More and more I feel like this is the reason I train so hard, why I push myself past every limit. The more obstacles that are placed between me and my goals, the hungrier I become.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Desire is a double-edged sword. It gives you strength; it gives you motivation and focus. But occasionally, because your ambition is so great, you wonder what will happen if your goals are not fulfilled. My biggest fear is not winning another title. But fear is a great motivator. I'm determined to lead this organization back to the top. The people who once celebrated me are the same people who doubt me now. They say that because I don't have Shaq that I can't win, that it's over. The only thing I truly worry about is that my drive and my will are sometimes too much for my teammates to handle. Do I expect too much from them? How can I elevate them to play with my same passion every night?
What helps me understand and deal with this is the fact that I was once in their shoes. I once played a supporting role on this team. Back then I knew how much pressure Shaquille had on him to win a ring and I also knew I could help. So I studied the game offensively and especially defensively because I knew that if I could harass on the perimeter with him clogging the lane, it would demoralize our opponents more than anything we could do offensively. I also knew that the teams he played on in the past did not have a closer. No one could take the game over down the stretch or hit the game winner or make the key free throws. Those were Shaq's weaknesses, so I had to step up and make them my strengths. I knew how much more I could bring to the battle, but that wasn't my role. I was a scorer who became a facilitator in order to win. But now I worry because I know how hard that was for me to learn, how many sleepless nights I had and how much criticism and trade rumors I had to endure before I mastered my role. This is probably what my current teammates are going through. All I can do is pray that one day we will reach the same level of chemistry and understanding that existed between me, Shaq, Rick Fox, Derek Fisher, Robert Horry and all the other players I once went to war with.
The fears I have are soothed a little by the presence of Phil Jackson. Simply put, he is the best coach I have ever played for. Everything I have learned about the game can be traced to him and Tex Winter. They teach the game at such a deeper level than X's and O's. The game is a rhythm, a dance. Phil and Tex have taught me to feel the game. To think the game without thinking, to see without seeing. They taught me how to prepare. How to conceptualize the spirit of my opponents and attack them where they are weak. I've seen how prepared PJ gets before games, and as the on-court leader he is trusting me to do the same. So I do all the things he has taught me to do before tip-off and once the ball is in the air my mind is at ease and my body is ready to play. I take it to the other team on both ends of the floor. I take pride in being able to do that. I HATE being scored on, even by players who some say are "un-guardable". I don't believe it when they say "Oh, that player is just hot today." F--- that! Cool his ass off then.
When we play on the road and the entire crowd is booing me it doesn't bother me at all. What I think about is simple: "When these fans leave this game I want them to remember how hard I fought and the passion and drive with which I played." I have always played this game with passion. And I always worked hard. When I saw the movie Rudy I remember thinking, "What if I worked that hard?" God has blessed me both physically and intellectually to play this game, so what would happen if I push as hard as the character in this film? I would love for people to think of me as a talented overachiever. Even though those fans may chant "Kobe sucks", when they leave that arena I want them to walk out with a different feeling than they came in with. When they leave they'll leave with the understanding that they have just witnessed a player give himself completely to his passion; they have just watched an athlete pour every ounce of his heart and soul out on that floor. And hopefully, when the next volume of my life is all said and done, they will respect and appreciate the years that I spent giving all of me to the game that means everything to me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Being called a role model has become code for being "able to sell product." But the true essence of a role model lies in influencing our youth to be better, not perfect, not to buy sodas or fast food or whatever; but to be better, no matter the odds or the circumstances. As an athlete I am someone who is in a perfect position to inspire our youth. They look at us as heroes not just because we win, but also because we fail. They witness us overcome obstacles right in front of their eyes. There's no editing, no CGI; everything about it is real. They watch us fall, get back up, fall, get back up, and fall again. In the course of a 48-minute game or an 82-game season they see us climb an entire mountain. It's my duty to help them understand that falling is a part of life and getting up is a way of life. The will to overcome is crucial. And because basketball is a metaphor of life this is a lesson I can give them as I struggle to accomplish my goals. As I help to rebuild my team on the court, I can do the same off of it, helping to rebuild and restore the lives of the people I see in trouble by inspiring them to do what the "experts" say can't be done.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have been an outcast my entire life. From being the only black kid in my town in Italy all the way to when I was 17 and playing in the NBA. What separated me from others, even more consistently than skin color or age, was my hunger. My mission. I've always been made to feel like there was something wrong with wanting to win so badly and wanting to become the best at what you do. But I have found a place to fit in amongst people with a similar vision, specifically my family at Nike. My association with them means much more to me than just an endorsement deal. At Nike I am surrounded by people and athletes who share my will and my commitment to be number one at all costs.
Last summer I had the honor of being invited to the Nike campus in Beaverton, Oregon for a ceremony honoring the company's co-founder, Phil Knight. We athletes had to wait in the green room before the show began. I found myself sitting amongst athletes that I had never met before but whom I felt right at home with.
Let me explain:
There are certain kinds of people that are purely driven. I can tell who they are simply by looking at them. I have faced so much criticism for my drive that at times it has alienated me from the majority: the people who are comfortable with second place, the people who hate against me because I am not. You know these kinds of people; they are the ones who fear winning, the jealous ones who envy and try to sabotage. They are the people who have been telling me I couldn't win all my life. Many times my drive to succeed has put me on an island all by myself because no one understood me, or they chose to misunderstand me. They chose to portray me as being something that I was not.
So on that day, sitting in the Nike green room with those other athletes, I saw the purity of drive in their eyes and it reassured me that it was OK to be different than others. It's OK to want to be the best. It's OK to feel like a loser if you don't win it all, and it's OK to bounce back with a stronger will, a deeper sense of determination, and a desire to destroy your opposition.
I have learned that it is OK for me to be me, and what being me entails. It means that I will not rest; I will not sleep, relax, relent or be satisfied until my goals have been met, the challenge answered and all my doubters silenced. I will not give in to my foes; I won't let down my teammates. I won't stop inspiring those who look up to me or stop giving motivation to those who motivate me. I will not back off until I'm back on top, back in the place where they said I could never be again. Mountains don't scare me. The LACK of mountains scares me. The climb up, the struggle for every inch of ground and every level of ascension is what feeds me. I welcome that challenge. I welcome that chance to be fed because no matter what — no matter how hard, how far, or how many stand in my way, I remain determined.
Dime Magazine
Hunger defines me. I've always been hungry, but now my appetite has risen to a new level. My will is greater than ever. The motivation to succeed runs through me like blood. In this 10th year, my 10th season as an NBA player, the mountain I once climbed to reach the top looms in front of me again. I realize how hard it will be to climb it, how much I will have to sacrifice and overcome to get to the top again, how many people have told me I can't do it. But I savor that challenge. Feed off of it. That challenge helps give me purpose and inspiration. It helps me define life.
At the beginning of this season there was a question floating around in my mind. What is my purpose? On one level I understood the reasons for why I do what I do, but on another level I felt an even greater commitment tugging at my soul. I'm a ballplayer, a teammate. A leader. But is that it? When I look back at my rookie season, I realize that all of the faces that once surrounded me are gone. I was a kid back then, eager to please, eager to find my place in a world that seemed familiar but different. The game was my refuge. I'd been going to it ever since I was six years old, in Italy, playing alone on courts thousands of miles away from kids who shared my same love. In a way, my dedication to basketball defined me. But that definition has grown. The struggles I've encountered over the last few years have made me realize just how much more there is for me to accomplish. I've begun a new phase of my life; I've opened new doors. And with new doors comes a whole new world of challenges.
In my life I have won and accomplished much. I own three NBA championship rings. I've had plenty of endorsement deals and made a lot of money from them. But still, I feel as if I have yet to fulfill the blessing that God has given me in my ability to play this game. I feel as if there is so much more to do, on the court and off it.
I don't know if this is how I am supposed to feel. Did MJ, Magic and the others feel the same way? In our society it seems like athletes are expected to care about winning the game, pleasing the crowd, and signing deals. Period. But am I supposed to obsess myself with winning only to win, retire and wonder if all my sacrifices were worth it? Is it OK for me to sacrifice time away from my children, time watching them grow up, missing Easter, Christmas and other special moments, to win a ring?
What I have come to learn is that my desire to win, the will to pursue my goals with the highest level of intensity and passion, defines me. But I have been careful to keep my motivation pure. The distractions that come with winning, the idea of playing for the money or playing for the fame and prestige — I've watched all of these things consume other players. My thirst for domination is fed only by the game. I refuse to get distracted by outside forces.
This is a new book in my career. Volume 1 has already been written. Everything that I accomplished before is behind me: not forgotten, but placed on the shelf. My past success only serves as a measuring stick for my peers. A whole new crop of players has emerged since I came into the League. All of them want the honor of holding the title of "best all-around player". But I feel as if that quest is behind me now and a new one has taken its place. I am an underdog. A challenge was issued to me by everyone who said I would never succeed again, that I would never win another ring or enjoy another parade. I accepted their challenge. I accepted the doubt of every one who spoke of my downfall and used their words as fuel. I have a franchise to resurrect, a city of fans to uplift.
That mountain, the one that I climbed once and now face again, is huge. I'm looking up at it again. And because I know how hard it was to climb, I sometimes feel drained because I know how difficult it will be to conquer. It's much harder to go from top to bottom to the top again than it is to simply go from the bottom to the top. But desire is the ultimate fuel. Hunger changes any situation. My past experience gives me knowledge that backs up my will. I know what must be done. My team is sometimes unsure because my teammates have never climbed this mountain before.
At times it's frustrating and it tries my patience, but in the beginning years of my career my teammates were patient with me and trusted in the fact that I would figure everything out, so now I must return that favor to this generation of Lakers. This is our challenge, our mountain, and these are my brothers. I must guide them to the point we all want to get to. No matter what.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have been learning about the ambition inside me since I was a kid. It was there during the hours I would spend on a playground in Italy and a group of my friends would come to me and tell me I would never be an NBA player. It was there during all the time I would practice alone, imitating the moves I'd seen on television and creating new ones to go with them. It was there when nothing else was there, and I learned to incorporate it with the game, to wrap myself in the game and seek my future within it. Whenever someone would say what my Italian friends had said, whenever anyone told me what I couldn't do, I would grab hold of that feeling inside me and realize that it was there for a reason. I have always had a purpose, a need to succeed. People who try to discourage me only add fuel to a fire that has always burned. Every phase of my life has brought me new risks and new rewards; in many ways I have always been the underdog. And through it all, through every struggle, the game has always been there. It has never left me alone.
I love the game. I really do. As a kid, when things were bad for me at school or at home, I would go to the park and envision the dream. You've probably had that same one: I'd be playing for the Lakers, winning championships and hitting the game winning shots. I'd listen to the crowd roar when I put the dagger in the other team's heart, and on the road I'd hear the silence of other teams' arenas. I've actually done these things in my career. But I had done them before, because in my mind and in my heart it felt so real to me. So when I was there I had been there before.
What thrills me most about the game is the purity of it and the chance to master it. The process, the work, the beauty of it has always inspired me. I remember when I was 15 years old and wanted to be famous and be on TV. That desire didn't motivate me to play or overshadow the essence of the game, but like any kid I thought being a celebrity would be cool.
As I've gotten older and actually become famous I realize that it's not what I thought it would be. But this is a good thing. Because it means that, in my heart, I never played the game for "spotlight" reasons. I played because I loved it. I played because it meant more to me than even I knew. When I needed someone to lean on, a place to vent, a place to celebrate or a place to cry, the game became all of these things for me. And because the game has given me so much I know that I must give it the respect it deserves. I must work hard to master it, to show it my appreciation for all it has done for me as a person, as a man. That's the reason I'm able to play under severe pressure or stress. The game has actually helped me cope with it. It has helped me win. Not in terms of the points scored, but in terms of the struggles that I have overcome. More and more I feel like this is the reason I train so hard, why I push myself past every limit. The more obstacles that are placed between me and my goals, the hungrier I become.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Desire is a double-edged sword. It gives you strength; it gives you motivation and focus. But occasionally, because your ambition is so great, you wonder what will happen if your goals are not fulfilled. My biggest fear is not winning another title. But fear is a great motivator. I'm determined to lead this organization back to the top. The people who once celebrated me are the same people who doubt me now. They say that because I don't have Shaq that I can't win, that it's over. The only thing I truly worry about is that my drive and my will are sometimes too much for my teammates to handle. Do I expect too much from them? How can I elevate them to play with my same passion every night?
What helps me understand and deal with this is the fact that I was once in their shoes. I once played a supporting role on this team. Back then I knew how much pressure Shaquille had on him to win a ring and I also knew I could help. So I studied the game offensively and especially defensively because I knew that if I could harass on the perimeter with him clogging the lane, it would demoralize our opponents more than anything we could do offensively. I also knew that the teams he played on in the past did not have a closer. No one could take the game over down the stretch or hit the game winner or make the key free throws. Those were Shaq's weaknesses, so I had to step up and make them my strengths. I knew how much more I could bring to the battle, but that wasn't my role. I was a scorer who became a facilitator in order to win. But now I worry because I know how hard that was for me to learn, how many sleepless nights I had and how much criticism and trade rumors I had to endure before I mastered my role. This is probably what my current teammates are going through. All I can do is pray that one day we will reach the same level of chemistry and understanding that existed between me, Shaq, Rick Fox, Derek Fisher, Robert Horry and all the other players I once went to war with.
The fears I have are soothed a little by the presence of Phil Jackson. Simply put, he is the best coach I have ever played for. Everything I have learned about the game can be traced to him and Tex Winter. They teach the game at such a deeper level than X's and O's. The game is a rhythm, a dance. Phil and Tex have taught me to feel the game. To think the game without thinking, to see without seeing. They taught me how to prepare. How to conceptualize the spirit of my opponents and attack them where they are weak. I've seen how prepared PJ gets before games, and as the on-court leader he is trusting me to do the same. So I do all the things he has taught me to do before tip-off and once the ball is in the air my mind is at ease and my body is ready to play. I take it to the other team on both ends of the floor. I take pride in being able to do that. I HATE being scored on, even by players who some say are "un-guardable". I don't believe it when they say "Oh, that player is just hot today." F--- that! Cool his ass off then.
When we play on the road and the entire crowd is booing me it doesn't bother me at all. What I think about is simple: "When these fans leave this game I want them to remember how hard I fought and the passion and drive with which I played." I have always played this game with passion. And I always worked hard. When I saw the movie Rudy I remember thinking, "What if I worked that hard?" God has blessed me both physically and intellectually to play this game, so what would happen if I push as hard as the character in this film? I would love for people to think of me as a talented overachiever. Even though those fans may chant "Kobe sucks", when they leave that arena I want them to walk out with a different feeling than they came in with. When they leave they'll leave with the understanding that they have just witnessed a player give himself completely to his passion; they have just watched an athlete pour every ounce of his heart and soul out on that floor. And hopefully, when the next volume of my life is all said and done, they will respect and appreciate the years that I spent giving all of me to the game that means everything to me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Being called a role model has become code for being "able to sell product." But the true essence of a role model lies in influencing our youth to be better, not perfect, not to buy sodas or fast food or whatever; but to be better, no matter the odds or the circumstances. As an athlete I am someone who is in a perfect position to inspire our youth. They look at us as heroes not just because we win, but also because we fail. They witness us overcome obstacles right in front of their eyes. There's no editing, no CGI; everything about it is real. They watch us fall, get back up, fall, get back up, and fall again. In the course of a 48-minute game or an 82-game season they see us climb an entire mountain. It's my duty to help them understand that falling is a part of life and getting up is a way of life. The will to overcome is crucial. And because basketball is a metaphor of life this is a lesson I can give them as I struggle to accomplish my goals. As I help to rebuild my team on the court, I can do the same off of it, helping to rebuild and restore the lives of the people I see in trouble by inspiring them to do what the "experts" say can't be done.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have been an outcast my entire life. From being the only black kid in my town in Italy all the way to when I was 17 and playing in the NBA. What separated me from others, even more consistently than skin color or age, was my hunger. My mission. I've always been made to feel like there was something wrong with wanting to win so badly and wanting to become the best at what you do. But I have found a place to fit in amongst people with a similar vision, specifically my family at Nike. My association with them means much more to me than just an endorsement deal. At Nike I am surrounded by people and athletes who share my will and my commitment to be number one at all costs.
Last summer I had the honor of being invited to the Nike campus in Beaverton, Oregon for a ceremony honoring the company's co-founder, Phil Knight. We athletes had to wait in the green room before the show began. I found myself sitting amongst athletes that I had never met before but whom I felt right at home with.
Let me explain:
There are certain kinds of people that are purely driven. I can tell who they are simply by looking at them. I have faced so much criticism for my drive that at times it has alienated me from the majority: the people who are comfortable with second place, the people who hate against me because I am not. You know these kinds of people; they are the ones who fear winning, the jealous ones who envy and try to sabotage. They are the people who have been telling me I couldn't win all my life. Many times my drive to succeed has put me on an island all by myself because no one understood me, or they chose to misunderstand me. They chose to portray me as being something that I was not.
So on that day, sitting in the Nike green room with those other athletes, I saw the purity of drive in their eyes and it reassured me that it was OK to be different than others. It's OK to want to be the best. It's OK to feel like a loser if you don't win it all, and it's OK to bounce back with a stronger will, a deeper sense of determination, and a desire to destroy your opposition.
I have learned that it is OK for me to be me, and what being me entails. It means that I will not rest; I will not sleep, relax, relent or be satisfied until my goals have been met, the challenge answered and all my doubters silenced. I will not give in to my foes; I won't let down my teammates. I won't stop inspiring those who look up to me or stop giving motivation to those who motivate me. I will not back off until I'm back on top, back in the place where they said I could never be again. Mountains don't scare me. The LACK of mountains scares me. The climb up, the struggle for every inch of ground and every level of ascension is what feeds me. I welcome that challenge. I welcome that chance to be fed because no matter what — no matter how hard, how far, or how many stand in my way, I remain determined.
12.05.2009
KOBE - GAME WINNER
Down by two with 3.2 seconds left, Kobe Bryant merely wanted to drive for a tying basket. His foot slipped when he got the ball, and Miami’s defense forced Bryant to throw up an off-balance 3-point shot.
Yes, everything went wrong on the Los Angeles Lakers’ final possession but Kobe somehow made it all right.
Bryant banked in his final shot over Dwyane Wade’s outstretched arm at the buzzer, ending the superstars’ sensational duel and sending the Lakers to their eighth straight victory, 108-107.
Bryant scored 33 points, but his falling bank shot from straightaway likely will rank among the most incredible highlights of his career.
“It was the luckiest shot I’ve ever taken, by far,” Bryant said.
“A great player hits an unbelievable shot. There are a couple of guys around the league that make big shots, but there ain’t many, and he’s one of them,” said Wade.
The matchup between U.S. Olympic teammates was the center of an action-packed game.
Neither star was perfect, Bryant shot an air ball on a potential game tying shot with 24 seconds to play.
After Wade put Miami ahead 102-100 with 49 seconds left on an awkward one-handed shot from the baseline, Miami appeared to sew it up when Wade’s two free throws put the Heat up 106-102 with 9.3 seconds to play.
“I only get a chance to play against them twice a year, and I take on the challenge and I enjoy it,” Wade said. “I enjoy the competitive nature that I know Kobe’s going to bring every night, and I’m going to bring the same things. I think he understands that as well, so it was a good battle going back and forth. He got the last laugh this time.”
Yes, everything went wrong on the Los Angeles Lakers’ final possession but Kobe somehow made it all right.
Bryant banked in his final shot over Dwyane Wade’s outstretched arm at the buzzer, ending the superstars’ sensational duel and sending the Lakers to their eighth straight victory, 108-107.
Bryant scored 33 points, but his falling bank shot from straightaway likely will rank among the most incredible highlights of his career.
“It was the luckiest shot I’ve ever taken, by far,” Bryant said.
“A great player hits an unbelievable shot. There are a couple of guys around the league that make big shots, but there ain’t many, and he’s one of them,” said Wade.
The matchup between U.S. Olympic teammates was the center of an action-packed game.
Neither star was perfect, Bryant shot an air ball on a potential game tying shot with 24 seconds to play.
After Wade put Miami ahead 102-100 with 49 seconds left on an awkward one-handed shot from the baseline, Miami appeared to sew it up when Wade’s two free throws put the Heat up 106-102 with 9.3 seconds to play.
“I only get a chance to play against them twice a year, and I take on the challenge and I enjoy it,” Wade said. “I enjoy the competitive nature that I know Kobe’s going to bring every night, and I’m going to bring the same things. I think he understands that as well, so it was a good battle going back and forth. He got the last laugh this time.”
9.03.2009
KOBE - PREPARATION
Kobe Bryant: "I can't step up my preparation because I prepare as much as I can all the time."
6.07.2009
KOBE BRYANT - NOT A NICE GUY
Kobe Bryant is not a nice guy.
Rather, he is "a killer, a gunslinger, a guy who will take the weak and have no mercy on them. That's one of the things about Kobe. He's a tough character, but he's got a real nice demeanor and carries himself very well."
Those were the words Saturday of his coach, Phil Jackson, the guy who has sat on the sidelines and guided Bryant through nine of his 13 NBA seasons.
To Jackson, Bryant is nowhere near the same mystery he is to the rest of the world, a player whose mood throughout this postseason has been scrutinized closely.
In Game 1 of this series, it immediately jumped out at colleague J.A. Adande that Kobe brought his game face to the center circle for the opening tip, the first guy out there, "bad man" written all over his focused features. He scored his 40 without yapping, looking as unstoppable as he ever has.
Afterward, he kept up his recent habit of being borderline morose in his news conference -- he said his daughters had been calling him "Grumpy," a reference to one of the Seven Dwarfs in the Snow White fairy tale, because of his mood lately) -- and observers were struck by how it was such a far cry from the loose Kobe we saw during last season's Finals against Boston.
His checkered history, his mood swings, and his successes and failures have all fed into the accurate and inaccurate perceptions of Bryant, but the latter was the topic Jackson was asked about on the eve of Game 2 of the NBA Finals:
"What is the biggest misperception people have of Kobe?"
Jackson's answer actually had two parts, the second being that people have the mistaken impression that Bryant is a selfish player: "All of us have a certain amount of ego in this game. But he understands what the mood and the temperament of the game is a lot of time, reads the game, knows when he has to carry the thrust of our team a lot and then knows a lot of times if he's got to pull back or sit back and let some other people do what they can do best on the team."
Bryant's Olympic teammates undoubtedly developed a new level of respect for Bryant from witnessing his dedication to his craft, and the workout time he put in.
Dwight Howard had this to say about Kobe, “He is a nice guy, a very nice guy. He's a great team player, one of the hardest-working people you'll ever meet.”
"Sometimes he goes crazy. He starts making unbelievable shots, he plays great defense," Howard said. "When he has that killer-instinct look, you probably saw it last game, it is a sight to see."
"Just because you're focused on something doesn't mean you don't enjoy something," Bryant replied when asked whether he was enjoying this, since it appears to the untrained eye that he is not. "That's part of the fun is just figuring out how to focus and how to get ready to play game after game. You can still do your job and still have a good time."
Rather, he is "a killer, a gunslinger, a guy who will take the weak and have no mercy on them. That's one of the things about Kobe. He's a tough character, but he's got a real nice demeanor and carries himself very well."
Those were the words Saturday of his coach, Phil Jackson, the guy who has sat on the sidelines and guided Bryant through nine of his 13 NBA seasons.
To Jackson, Bryant is nowhere near the same mystery he is to the rest of the world, a player whose mood throughout this postseason has been scrutinized closely.
In Game 1 of this series, it immediately jumped out at colleague J.A. Adande that Kobe brought his game face to the center circle for the opening tip, the first guy out there, "bad man" written all over his focused features. He scored his 40 without yapping, looking as unstoppable as he ever has.
Afterward, he kept up his recent habit of being borderline morose in his news conference -- he said his daughters had been calling him "Grumpy," a reference to one of the Seven Dwarfs in the Snow White fairy tale, because of his mood lately) -- and observers were struck by how it was such a far cry from the loose Kobe we saw during last season's Finals against Boston.
His checkered history, his mood swings, and his successes and failures have all fed into the accurate and inaccurate perceptions of Bryant, but the latter was the topic Jackson was asked about on the eve of Game 2 of the NBA Finals:
"What is the biggest misperception people have of Kobe?"
Jackson's answer actually had two parts, the second being that people have the mistaken impression that Bryant is a selfish player: "All of us have a certain amount of ego in this game. But he understands what the mood and the temperament of the game is a lot of time, reads the game, knows when he has to carry the thrust of our team a lot and then knows a lot of times if he's got to pull back or sit back and let some other people do what they can do best on the team."
Bryant's Olympic teammates undoubtedly developed a new level of respect for Bryant from witnessing his dedication to his craft, and the workout time he put in.
Dwight Howard had this to say about Kobe, “He is a nice guy, a very nice guy. He's a great team player, one of the hardest-working people you'll ever meet.”
"Sometimes he goes crazy. He starts making unbelievable shots, he plays great defense," Howard said. "When he has that killer-instinct look, you probably saw it last game, it is a sight to see."
"Just because you're focused on something doesn't mean you don't enjoy something," Bryant replied when asked whether he was enjoying this, since it appears to the untrained eye that he is not. "That's part of the fun is just figuring out how to focus and how to get ready to play game after game. You can still do your job and still have a good time."
6.06.2009
KOBE BRYANT - ATTACKING & LEADING
Rafer Alston talking about Kobe after Game 1 of the NBA Playoffs: “Kobe just attacks, attacks, attacks. LeBron will dominate, then ease back. Kobe just keeps coming. It’s relentless.”
Rick Fox on Kobe's early career: "He was perceived as the little brother. He wanted to be the big brother. He had the desire to lead."
Rick Fox on Kobe's early career: "He was perceived as the little brother. He wanted to be the big brother. He had the desire to lead."
6.05.2009
KOBE - PRESSURE RELIEVER
Magic Johnson had his magnetic smile. Michael Jordan soared to the basket with his tongue hanging out. Kobe Bryant is baring his teeth and scowling in these NBA finals.
Bryant makes no apologies for his no-fun demeanor.
"I just think it's been building," he said Friday. "I've been pacing myself all year waiting for these playoffs to come around. The table is set."
The Lakers exhaled a day after routing the Orlando Magic 100-75 in Game 1 of the NBA finals.
Much of Bryant's laser focus is the result of the Lakers losing to Detroit and Boston in their previous finals appearances in 2004 and last year. He detests losing, and at 30, he is more conscious that winning championships is the bedrock in building the legacy of a player who wants to be among the greatest.
"I just want it so bad," he said. "This time around we're just really locked in."
Coach Phil Jackson said that behind closed doors Bryant is just as quiet and focused.
"You have to stay driven and motivated, and I think it's really important that he takes that leadership role for this team," he said.
Orlando coach Stan Van Gundy has seen Bryant's willful side emerge before.
"When he's playing as well as he did last night, there's really no pressure on anybody else. You shoot the ball freely, you play freely because if you hit a bad stretch, you'll just go back to him and he'll take care of everything," Van Gundy said. "What the great players do to make their teammates better is they take the pressure off of them."
Bryant makes no apologies for his no-fun demeanor.
"I just think it's been building," he said Friday. "I've been pacing myself all year waiting for these playoffs to come around. The table is set."
The Lakers exhaled a day after routing the Orlando Magic 100-75 in Game 1 of the NBA finals.
Much of Bryant's laser focus is the result of the Lakers losing to Detroit and Boston in their previous finals appearances in 2004 and last year. He detests losing, and at 30, he is more conscious that winning championships is the bedrock in building the legacy of a player who wants to be among the greatest.
"I just want it so bad," he said. "This time around we're just really locked in."
Coach Phil Jackson said that behind closed doors Bryant is just as quiet and focused.
"You have to stay driven and motivated, and I think it's really important that he takes that leadership role for this team," he said.
Orlando coach Stan Van Gundy has seen Bryant's willful side emerge before.
"When he's playing as well as he did last night, there's really no pressure on anybody else. You shoot the ball freely, you play freely because if you hit a bad stretch, you'll just go back to him and he'll take care of everything," Van Gundy said. "What the great players do to make their teammates better is they take the pressure off of them."
6.04.2009
KOBE BRYANT - OLYMPICS
J.Colangelo speaking on K. Bryant during the Olympics "He raised the bar for everyone. It didn't matter what our schedule was, he was in the workout room by 8am."
6.03.2009
KOBE BRYANT
Shaquille O'Neal said that he has never had a teammate that worked as hard as Kobe and that we was borderline possessed about working out each day. He said that the workouts were long and difficult. Not just working on shooting, which Shaq said he did daily and at a rigorous speed, but also on the fundamentals, conditioning and in the weightroom. There is a rumor that Kobe refers to his regiment as the "Devil Workout" because it includes 6 hours a day, 6 days a week, 6 months a year.
Derek Fisher was asked to use one word to describe Kobe Bryant..."Warrior"
Derek Fisher was asked to use one word to describe Kobe Bryant..."Warrior"
5.15.2009
SHANE BATTIER vs KOBE BRYANT
Imagine coming face-to-face with a tornado -- and we're talking a fast-moving, maximum intensity, mean-ass twister that's sucking up livestock -- and then being asked to "stop" it. You'd run for cover, right? Well, the brave souls assigned to guard Kobe Bryant don't have that option, even though, just as there is no stopping a twister, there's no "stopping" a player like Bryant, especially over the course of a seven-game playoff series. You don't know in which direction he might spin, when he's going to pick up speed or stop altogether, or how much metaphoric destruction he will wreak. No matter how effectively the defender does his job, he's going to get scored upon, and often in ways that are quite embarrassing: on slippery drives, crazy step-back jumpers, maybe a vicious dunk or two.
Look at the impressive effort being put forth by Shane Battier in the matchup at the heart of the contentious second-round series between the Houston Rockets and the Los Angeles Lakers. Over the first four games, Battier has been tasked with shadowing Bryant on nearly every dribble, twice forcing him into subpar games, including the Rockets' stunning Game 4 victory accomplished without All-Star center Yao Ming that tied the series at week's end.
For Battier, the Rockets forward who has twice been named to the NBA All-Defensive team, this was not a fluke. Cerebral and obsessive in his approach to defense, he is among that rare breed of NBA player who makes his living trying to contain such elite scorers. These are the guys who play 40 minutes and finish with maybe four points, three rebounds and two assists, yet they're invaluable, especially during the postseason. To watch Battier in action against Kobe is to see defense treated like a science, if not a religion.
In Game 1, Battier executed the Rockets' defensive plan to perfection: He pushed Bryant left (where the help would be), kept him off the free throw line (so there were no easy points), contested every shot (with "that hand-in-the-face activity" as Lakers coach Phil Jackson put it) and forced him to shoot deep, off-balance two-point jumpers. The result: Bryant shot 8 for 22 from the field while being guarded by Battier, and finished the game with an inefficient 32 points that required 31 shots. Problem solved, right? Well, in Game 2, Battier made no adjustments -- "my game plan was pretty much the same," he said -- and again, Bryant took deep, off-balance two-pointers, drove left and took relatively few free throws. Only this time Bryant shot a scorching 16 for 27 from the field and scored 40 points. Outside the Houston locker room after the game, Rockets vice president of basketball operations Sam Hinkie stared at the box score like a man attempting to make sense of a complicated calculus problem. "This is almost embarrassing to say since Kobe scored 40," said Hinkie, a stat head with a Stanford M.B.A. who works closely with Battier in preparing for opponents, "but Shane played really good defense tonight."
And so it went, each game swinging unpredictably: 33 points for Bryant in Game 3, followed by a Game 4 in which Battier shockingly outscored him 23 to 15. Regardless, the toll from defending Kobe is steep and both mental and physical: In the first four games Battier ran face-first through more than 50 screens, was knocked over a half-dozen times, suffered a gash over his left eye that left a spiderweb of blood on his face and absorbed a Bryant elbow to the back of the head that wouldn't have looked out of place in a Muay Thai bout. Not to mention the taunting --"You can't guard me!" Bryant roared at Battier more than once -- made worse because Battier can't really respond. After all, as he points out, "What can I say that's going to erase the fact that he's scoring 40 points on me?"
The answer, of course, is nothing. No, the only reward for a specialist like Battier comes on the scoreboard: Did his team win? Otherwise, it is a thankless, inglorious task, one Michael Cooper, the former Lakers stopper, once compared to being a "garbage collector" because "you don't notice them unless they don't do their job. They handle the messes and the stinky stuff."
Bryant poses a particularly vexing -- or would that be malodorous? -- problem for such men. Whereas some players rely on favorite moves or possess obvious strengths and weaknesses (for example, LeBron James, despite his improved jumper, remains far more effective in the paint than on the perimeter), Bryant is remarkably well-rounded. According to Synergy Sports Technology, which logs every play of every NBA game, Bryant drove right 49.01% of the time this season and left 50.99% of the time. In Synergy's finely parsed statistical analysis, he ranked in the top 20% of the league in (deep breath): shots off cuts, shots off screens, spot-up attempts, shots against single coverage in the post and off one-on-one isolation moves (and he's only slightly less effective in pick and rolls and transition). Lakers assistant coach Brian Shaw used to guard Bryant every day in practice when the two were teammates and is all too familiar with the challenge. "He really has no weaknesses," says Shaw. "And he has the knowledge and the ability to say, I'm going to send you to this spot on the floor where only I know I'm going to take you, and I'm going to raise up and take my shot before you can contest it."
What's more, because Bryant is so accurate with his jumper, very few shots that he takes would qualify as bad ones. Just ask Chip Engelland, the respected shooting coach and Spurs assistant who has worked with Grant Hill and Steve Kerr, among others (and whom Battier called for defensive advice on the day of Game 1). Asked what he would do if Kobe came to him for help on his jumper, Engelland laughs, then says, "I would rebound." No really, Chip, what would you do? He thinks for a moment. "Maybe I'd work on shooting while fatigued, but that's about it. His technical form is amazing. He's one of the great jump shooters of our time."
Faced with such an opponent, Battier tries to focus on tiny weaknesses. For example, Bryant shot a surprisingly low percentage (25.5%) on top-of-the-key three-pointers this year, often because he had to hoist them off the dribble. The Rockets' data -- which is plentiful, thanks to the number-crunching emphasis that G.M. Daryl Morey has brought to the Houston front office -- also tells Battier to send Bryant to his left, where he's less efficient. But even if this works, sometimes Bryant is merely baiting his defender, waiting for the moment to reverse field. "Sometimes Kobe will let a guy think that he's making him do what he wants, and then, at the critical point in the game, Kobe will do what he wants to do," says Shaw. "He'll save things until he really needs them."
Once this happens and Bryant creates space for a jumper, Battier's last resort is the aforementioned "hand-in-the-face activity." We've seen it time and again in the series. Bryant rises up, and as he does, Battier launches at him. For an instant, it appears inevitable that the two men will collide, and if you were watching Battier for the first time, you might think that he was reckless. But Battier invariably turns sideways in midair, his right leg leading the way, and he skims just past Bryant, while simultaneously extending his right hand so that it is inches from Bryant's face, the fingers spread to obscure his vision.
With most players, this is distraction enough -- he's going to stick his finger in my eye --but great shooters like Bryant are so locked in that it's often as if the defender doesn't exist. So then Battier has to introduce an element of uncertainty. Occasionally he might tap a hot shooter on the head, even if it leads to a whistle. "Every now and then I'll just take a foul," Battier says. "I'll hit the guy on the wrist or the elbow or even the face just to put that thought in the offensive player's mind. Because offensive players, they don't like contact. They're shooters. They do not like to be touched. And anything I can do to keep a guy off guard and keep him guessing, I'm going to do."
Even if Battier can succeed in getting Bryant out of sync, however, all it takes is one careless moment to lose the edge. That's why for a defensive specialist like Battier, the greatest fear is heading to the bench while Bryant remains in the game and gets his mojo going. Spurs forward Bruce Bowen in particular is known to fume about this. "I've never seen a guy get mad like that when he's on the bench," says Malik Rose, the Oklahoma City forward who played with Bowen for many years on the Spurs. "When we'd play Kobe, Bruce would do a great job on him. Then when Bruce would get subbed out, he'd be yelling at his backup to 'Get up on him' and 'Do this' and 'Do that,' because he didn't want Kobe to get hot. Because nothing is worse than coming in against a hot player."
This can happen even if you're not on the bench. In Game 1, for example, Battier was guarding Bryant and sticking to his principles: no risks, only jump shots, nothing at the rim. And through the first two quarters, Bryant had settled for tough jumpers and missed most of them, shooting 4 for 12. Then, with 9:40 left in the third quarter, Rockets forward Ron Artest switched onto Bryant in transition and picked him up at the top of the key. From across the court, Battier watched in horror as Artest gambled for a steal, lunging for the ball as Bryant dribbled. With Artest off balance, Bryant finally had a lane to attack and headed straight to the rim, where he finished and drew the foul on Luis Scola. That's all it took; as Battier says, "Kobe had his bounce after that." He went on to hit 6 of 9 shots in the quarter.
This, as you can imagine, can be quite frustrating. As such, part of the challenge of guarding Kobe over a series is staying positive. Take the case of Utah guard Ronnie Brewer, who is a respectable defender, though not in Battier's league. During the first round of the playoffs, Brewer had to stick Bryant. And for three games he did a decent job. Then, in Game 4, Kobe went off, scoring 38 points on 16-for-24 shooting as the Lakers went up 3--1 in that series. Afterward, Brewer was disconsolate, sure he'd let down his team. "I got down on myself because I felt like, Man, if I could have slowed him down a bit, the series could have turned around," says Brewer. "But when he got hot, it was like there was nothing I could do." Engelland has seen this reaction before, having witnessed many a Bryant detonation as a Spurs coach. "I think the hardest thing when you're playing against Kobe is not getting deflated," he says. "You have to stay positive on him every play."
If anyone can commiserate, it is Craig Ehlo, who was Shane Battier before there was Shane Battier. A 6'7" forward, Ehlo played 14 NBA seasons, 10 with the Hawks and the Cavs, and ended up as something of Michael Jordan's personal defender. Perhaps you remember Ehlo from the deciding game of the 1989 Eastern Conference first-round playoffs between the Bulls and the Cavs. With three seconds left, Jordan took an inbounds pass, dribbled to the free throw line, hung in the air as a guy flew by, then sank the series-winning jumper. As Jordan leaped in the air, pumping his fist, the guy who sank to the floor as if he'd been teargassed was Ehlo.
It was not an isolated incident. Year after year, Ehlo tried to guard Jordan, and year after year he came away flummoxed (though not for lack of talent; Ehlo was athletic, long and persistent, one of the better cover guys in the league). One time late in his career, Ehlo remembers Jordan coming off a down screen in the triangle offense. Reading the play, Ehlo stepped out into the passing lane, only Jordan instinctively countered him and stepped back, where he caught the ball, changed direction and hit a jump shot.
"How did you do that?" Ehlo asked as they ran back down the court. "I totally had you covered on that one."
Jordan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Craig, it just happened."
Of course, nobody ever figured out how to stop Michael Jordan when he was just happening. Many were the nights when Ehlo would spend 40 minutes shadowing M.J. only to surrender four dozen points and secure goat status in the eyes of the Cavs' fans. Still, Cavs trainer Gary Briggs knew better. Says Ehlo, "After the game, he would look me dead square in the eye and say, 'He may have scored 45 points, but you were dead in his s -- all night.'" Ehlo pauses. "And that was all I needed to hear."
Similarly, Kobe's victims take pains to keep perspective. Battier says he thinks of himself as a factory worker approaching his task -- he punches the clock and puts in the time, and "that way I don't get too high or too low." Brewer says his friends tried to buck him up but that it can be especially tough because "sometimes you're the villain either way": If Bryant scores a lot, you've failed, and if he doesn't score a lot, well, a lot of people come to the arena to see Bryant score, so now you've let them down.
But that's not Brewer's worry anymore, it's Battier's. If the Lakers prevail and advance, the job of containing Bryant will probably fall to Dahntay Jones, whose Denver Nuggets held a 3-0 series lead over the Dallas Mavericks through Sunday. Then it will be Jones who will have to run face-first into screens and take elbows to the head. And beyond that, in a month or so, perhaps it will be a certain MVP forward from Cleveland, one who also bears a striking resemblance to a force of nature. In which case we'd get to see something rare and precious: two unstoppable players trying to stop each other.
Of course, just maybe, if Battier does his dirty, stinky job well enough, he could save everyone else the trouble.
Look at the impressive effort being put forth by Shane Battier in the matchup at the heart of the contentious second-round series between the Houston Rockets and the Los Angeles Lakers. Over the first four games, Battier has been tasked with shadowing Bryant on nearly every dribble, twice forcing him into subpar games, including the Rockets' stunning Game 4 victory accomplished without All-Star center Yao Ming that tied the series at week's end.
For Battier, the Rockets forward who has twice been named to the NBA All-Defensive team, this was not a fluke. Cerebral and obsessive in his approach to defense, he is among that rare breed of NBA player who makes his living trying to contain such elite scorers. These are the guys who play 40 minutes and finish with maybe four points, three rebounds and two assists, yet they're invaluable, especially during the postseason. To watch Battier in action against Kobe is to see defense treated like a science, if not a religion.
In Game 1, Battier executed the Rockets' defensive plan to perfection: He pushed Bryant left (where the help would be), kept him off the free throw line (so there were no easy points), contested every shot (with "that hand-in-the-face activity" as Lakers coach Phil Jackson put it) and forced him to shoot deep, off-balance two-point jumpers. The result: Bryant shot 8 for 22 from the field while being guarded by Battier, and finished the game with an inefficient 32 points that required 31 shots. Problem solved, right? Well, in Game 2, Battier made no adjustments -- "my game plan was pretty much the same," he said -- and again, Bryant took deep, off-balance two-pointers, drove left and took relatively few free throws. Only this time Bryant shot a scorching 16 for 27 from the field and scored 40 points. Outside the Houston locker room after the game, Rockets vice president of basketball operations Sam Hinkie stared at the box score like a man attempting to make sense of a complicated calculus problem. "This is almost embarrassing to say since Kobe scored 40," said Hinkie, a stat head with a Stanford M.B.A. who works closely with Battier in preparing for opponents, "but Shane played really good defense tonight."
And so it went, each game swinging unpredictably: 33 points for Bryant in Game 3, followed by a Game 4 in which Battier shockingly outscored him 23 to 15. Regardless, the toll from defending Kobe is steep and both mental and physical: In the first four games Battier ran face-first through more than 50 screens, was knocked over a half-dozen times, suffered a gash over his left eye that left a spiderweb of blood on his face and absorbed a Bryant elbow to the back of the head that wouldn't have looked out of place in a Muay Thai bout. Not to mention the taunting --"You can't guard me!" Bryant roared at Battier more than once -- made worse because Battier can't really respond. After all, as he points out, "What can I say that's going to erase the fact that he's scoring 40 points on me?"
The answer, of course, is nothing. No, the only reward for a specialist like Battier comes on the scoreboard: Did his team win? Otherwise, it is a thankless, inglorious task, one Michael Cooper, the former Lakers stopper, once compared to being a "garbage collector" because "you don't notice them unless they don't do their job. They handle the messes and the stinky stuff."
Bryant poses a particularly vexing -- or would that be malodorous? -- problem for such men. Whereas some players rely on favorite moves or possess obvious strengths and weaknesses (for example, LeBron James, despite his improved jumper, remains far more effective in the paint than on the perimeter), Bryant is remarkably well-rounded. According to Synergy Sports Technology, which logs every play of every NBA game, Bryant drove right 49.01% of the time this season and left 50.99% of the time. In Synergy's finely parsed statistical analysis, he ranked in the top 20% of the league in (deep breath): shots off cuts, shots off screens, spot-up attempts, shots against single coverage in the post and off one-on-one isolation moves (and he's only slightly less effective in pick and rolls and transition). Lakers assistant coach Brian Shaw used to guard Bryant every day in practice when the two were teammates and is all too familiar with the challenge. "He really has no weaknesses," says Shaw. "And he has the knowledge and the ability to say, I'm going to send you to this spot on the floor where only I know I'm going to take you, and I'm going to raise up and take my shot before you can contest it."
What's more, because Bryant is so accurate with his jumper, very few shots that he takes would qualify as bad ones. Just ask Chip Engelland, the respected shooting coach and Spurs assistant who has worked with Grant Hill and Steve Kerr, among others (and whom Battier called for defensive advice on the day of Game 1). Asked what he would do if Kobe came to him for help on his jumper, Engelland laughs, then says, "I would rebound." No really, Chip, what would you do? He thinks for a moment. "Maybe I'd work on shooting while fatigued, but that's about it. His technical form is amazing. He's one of the great jump shooters of our time."
Faced with such an opponent, Battier tries to focus on tiny weaknesses. For example, Bryant shot a surprisingly low percentage (25.5%) on top-of-the-key three-pointers this year, often because he had to hoist them off the dribble. The Rockets' data -- which is plentiful, thanks to the number-crunching emphasis that G.M. Daryl Morey has brought to the Houston front office -- also tells Battier to send Bryant to his left, where he's less efficient. But even if this works, sometimes Bryant is merely baiting his defender, waiting for the moment to reverse field. "Sometimes Kobe will let a guy think that he's making him do what he wants, and then, at the critical point in the game, Kobe will do what he wants to do," says Shaw. "He'll save things until he really needs them."
Once this happens and Bryant creates space for a jumper, Battier's last resort is the aforementioned "hand-in-the-face activity." We've seen it time and again in the series. Bryant rises up, and as he does, Battier launches at him. For an instant, it appears inevitable that the two men will collide, and if you were watching Battier for the first time, you might think that he was reckless. But Battier invariably turns sideways in midair, his right leg leading the way, and he skims just past Bryant, while simultaneously extending his right hand so that it is inches from Bryant's face, the fingers spread to obscure his vision.
With most players, this is distraction enough -- he's going to stick his finger in my eye --but great shooters like Bryant are so locked in that it's often as if the defender doesn't exist. So then Battier has to introduce an element of uncertainty. Occasionally he might tap a hot shooter on the head, even if it leads to a whistle. "Every now and then I'll just take a foul," Battier says. "I'll hit the guy on the wrist or the elbow or even the face just to put that thought in the offensive player's mind. Because offensive players, they don't like contact. They're shooters. They do not like to be touched. And anything I can do to keep a guy off guard and keep him guessing, I'm going to do."
Even if Battier can succeed in getting Bryant out of sync, however, all it takes is one careless moment to lose the edge. That's why for a defensive specialist like Battier, the greatest fear is heading to the bench while Bryant remains in the game and gets his mojo going. Spurs forward Bruce Bowen in particular is known to fume about this. "I've never seen a guy get mad like that when he's on the bench," says Malik Rose, the Oklahoma City forward who played with Bowen for many years on the Spurs. "When we'd play Kobe, Bruce would do a great job on him. Then when Bruce would get subbed out, he'd be yelling at his backup to 'Get up on him' and 'Do this' and 'Do that,' because he didn't want Kobe to get hot. Because nothing is worse than coming in against a hot player."
This can happen even if you're not on the bench. In Game 1, for example, Battier was guarding Bryant and sticking to his principles: no risks, only jump shots, nothing at the rim. And through the first two quarters, Bryant had settled for tough jumpers and missed most of them, shooting 4 for 12. Then, with 9:40 left in the third quarter, Rockets forward Ron Artest switched onto Bryant in transition and picked him up at the top of the key. From across the court, Battier watched in horror as Artest gambled for a steal, lunging for the ball as Bryant dribbled. With Artest off balance, Bryant finally had a lane to attack and headed straight to the rim, where he finished and drew the foul on Luis Scola. That's all it took; as Battier says, "Kobe had his bounce after that." He went on to hit 6 of 9 shots in the quarter.
This, as you can imagine, can be quite frustrating. As such, part of the challenge of guarding Kobe over a series is staying positive. Take the case of Utah guard Ronnie Brewer, who is a respectable defender, though not in Battier's league. During the first round of the playoffs, Brewer had to stick Bryant. And for three games he did a decent job. Then, in Game 4, Kobe went off, scoring 38 points on 16-for-24 shooting as the Lakers went up 3--1 in that series. Afterward, Brewer was disconsolate, sure he'd let down his team. "I got down on myself because I felt like, Man, if I could have slowed him down a bit, the series could have turned around," says Brewer. "But when he got hot, it was like there was nothing I could do." Engelland has seen this reaction before, having witnessed many a Bryant detonation as a Spurs coach. "I think the hardest thing when you're playing against Kobe is not getting deflated," he says. "You have to stay positive on him every play."
If anyone can commiserate, it is Craig Ehlo, who was Shane Battier before there was Shane Battier. A 6'7" forward, Ehlo played 14 NBA seasons, 10 with the Hawks and the Cavs, and ended up as something of Michael Jordan's personal defender. Perhaps you remember Ehlo from the deciding game of the 1989 Eastern Conference first-round playoffs between the Bulls and the Cavs. With three seconds left, Jordan took an inbounds pass, dribbled to the free throw line, hung in the air as a guy flew by, then sank the series-winning jumper. As Jordan leaped in the air, pumping his fist, the guy who sank to the floor as if he'd been teargassed was Ehlo.
It was not an isolated incident. Year after year, Ehlo tried to guard Jordan, and year after year he came away flummoxed (though not for lack of talent; Ehlo was athletic, long and persistent, one of the better cover guys in the league). One time late in his career, Ehlo remembers Jordan coming off a down screen in the triangle offense. Reading the play, Ehlo stepped out into the passing lane, only Jordan instinctively countered him and stepped back, where he caught the ball, changed direction and hit a jump shot.
"How did you do that?" Ehlo asked as they ran back down the court. "I totally had you covered on that one."
Jordan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Craig, it just happened."
Of course, nobody ever figured out how to stop Michael Jordan when he was just happening. Many were the nights when Ehlo would spend 40 minutes shadowing M.J. only to surrender four dozen points and secure goat status in the eyes of the Cavs' fans. Still, Cavs trainer Gary Briggs knew better. Says Ehlo, "After the game, he would look me dead square in the eye and say, 'He may have scored 45 points, but you were dead in his s -- all night.'" Ehlo pauses. "And that was all I needed to hear."
Similarly, Kobe's victims take pains to keep perspective. Battier says he thinks of himself as a factory worker approaching his task -- he punches the clock and puts in the time, and "that way I don't get too high or too low." Brewer says his friends tried to buck him up but that it can be especially tough because "sometimes you're the villain either way": If Bryant scores a lot, you've failed, and if he doesn't score a lot, well, a lot of people come to the arena to see Bryant score, so now you've let them down.
But that's not Brewer's worry anymore, it's Battier's. If the Lakers prevail and advance, the job of containing Bryant will probably fall to Dahntay Jones, whose Denver Nuggets held a 3-0 series lead over the Dallas Mavericks through Sunday. Then it will be Jones who will have to run face-first into screens and take elbows to the head. And beyond that, in a month or so, perhaps it will be a certain MVP forward from Cleveland, one who also bears a striking resemblance to a force of nature. In which case we'd get to see something rare and precious: two unstoppable players trying to stop each other.
Of course, just maybe, if Battier does his dirty, stinky job well enough, he could save everyone else the trouble.
5.07.2009
TWO WARRIORS - ARTEST & KOBE
Ron Artest wanted to make a point. It's not exactly clear what that point was, probably something about him being mad as hell and not going to take it anymore.
Artest had decided that Kobe Bryant had gone way too far over the line too often. It was one thing for Bryant to cheap shot Shane Battier in Game 1 but this was too much for Artest to accept.
So after Artest took a Bryant elbow to the chest, he took off in a sprint at Bryant.
The crowd rose.
"I went over there with the intention of telling Kobe, 'You're hitting the wrong person. Don't you know you're hitting Ron Artest?" Artest said.
"I understand it's the playoffs. I'm accustomed to playing basketball really rough. When I came into the league, I was used to fighting on the court. That's how I grew up playing basketball.”
"Now, I play fair and square and I lose fair and square. I put my arm on Kobe. I push and play physical. I see man and ball. Just basic defense. He hits my arm down. I'm telling the ref, he hits my arm. You can't do that.' Then he did it again. I tell the refs, 'You got to control this.' Then he throws an elbow right in my chest. I told Kobe, you can do whatever you want to do. I'm not reacting. I'm going to let the refs control it.'
"Kobe is great enough to take over games and lead his team. He could have done it without that. For me, the game was great. It was fun. You have to have guts to hit a guy like me in the throat.”
"I knew I was going to get a technical foul. The point was to let the refs know I'm angry, I'm tired of this guy elbowing me. I went over there, no punches, no shoves to the face. Just confrontation. Then I backed off.”
Kobe knew who he was hitting and he didn't seem to mind. He wasn't going to let the bully come in his house and win another game.
Bryant plays with an attitude of entitlement. He plays as if he is above the game. It is part of his greatness, in some ways. He raises the bar on his own expectations beyond any that anyone could place on him.
He and Artest both described their confrontation and the physical game as "fun."
So just like that, we have a pretty intense series going. Usually games like this happen after four or five games, when the teams are really sick of each other. If this is how they feel after two games imagine how they will be by Game 5.
"It did set a tone for what will happen in the series," Phil Jackson said. "If they're going to be physical, we have to meet that."
Mark Madsen had this to say about Artest, "I've never played on the same team as Ron Artest, but I've played against him dating all the way back to college. Of all the guys I've played with or against, he was always one guy who stood out as an aggressive defender who guys around the league don't want to mess with. Ron Artest is a guy who you absolutely want to go to battle with. Everybody also knows not to cross the line with him."
Artest had decided that Kobe Bryant had gone way too far over the line too often. It was one thing for Bryant to cheap shot Shane Battier in Game 1 but this was too much for Artest to accept.
So after Artest took a Bryant elbow to the chest, he took off in a sprint at Bryant.
The crowd rose.
"I went over there with the intention of telling Kobe, 'You're hitting the wrong person. Don't you know you're hitting Ron Artest?" Artest said.
"I understand it's the playoffs. I'm accustomed to playing basketball really rough. When I came into the league, I was used to fighting on the court. That's how I grew up playing basketball.”
"Now, I play fair and square and I lose fair and square. I put my arm on Kobe. I push and play physical. I see man and ball. Just basic defense. He hits my arm down. I'm telling the ref, he hits my arm. You can't do that.' Then he did it again. I tell the refs, 'You got to control this.' Then he throws an elbow right in my chest. I told Kobe, you can do whatever you want to do. I'm not reacting. I'm going to let the refs control it.'
"Kobe is great enough to take over games and lead his team. He could have done it without that. For me, the game was great. It was fun. You have to have guts to hit a guy like me in the throat.”
"I knew I was going to get a technical foul. The point was to let the refs know I'm angry, I'm tired of this guy elbowing me. I went over there, no punches, no shoves to the face. Just confrontation. Then I backed off.”
Kobe knew who he was hitting and he didn't seem to mind. He wasn't going to let the bully come in his house and win another game.
Bryant plays with an attitude of entitlement. He plays as if he is above the game. It is part of his greatness, in some ways. He raises the bar on his own expectations beyond any that anyone could place on him.
He and Artest both described their confrontation and the physical game as "fun."
So just like that, we have a pretty intense series going. Usually games like this happen after four or five games, when the teams are really sick of each other. If this is how they feel after two games imagine how they will be by Game 5.
"It did set a tone for what will happen in the series," Phil Jackson said. "If they're going to be physical, we have to meet that."
Mark Madsen had this to say about Artest, "I've never played on the same team as Ron Artest, but I've played against him dating all the way back to college. Of all the guys I've played with or against, he was always one guy who stood out as an aggressive defender who guys around the league don't want to mess with. Ron Artest is a guy who you absolutely want to go to battle with. Everybody also knows not to cross the line with him."
1.10.2009
KOBE BRYANT
Here is an observation by Eric Musselman the former NBA coach while watching Kobe Bryant during his game against the Warriors:
During Kobe's pre-game and halftime warm-ups, unlike a lot of guys, he isn't chatting or casually shooting. He's focused & taking game-speed jumpers. Its that kind of focus and preparation that separates him from the other elite players. Kobe takes advantage of every minute he is on the floor and it’s that tiny bit of extra focus that can make a big difference.
During Kobe's pre-game and halftime warm-ups, unlike a lot of guys, he isn't chatting or casually shooting. He's focused & taking game-speed jumpers. Its that kind of focus and preparation that separates him from the other elite players. Kobe takes advantage of every minute he is on the floor and it’s that tiny bit of extra focus that can make a big difference.
1.04.2009
KOBE BRYANT
There are few things more important to Kobe Bryant than his portable DVD player. The Lakers' 10-time All-Star stares at his 10-inch screen, watching basketball clips of the players he'll be guarding. It's part of his longtime commitment to studying video, one of the foundations of a career still going strong in its 13th NBA season.
The Lakers have had dozens of great players over the years, but according to the team's director of video services Chris Bodaken, "Hands down, he's the biggest video fiend we've ever had. I didn't know if it was possible to be more competitive than Magic was, but I think he might be. It carries over into his preparation, and this is part of that."
The Lakers' video staff goes "through an opponent's last few games and find key plays from the players Bryant will guard, presenting him with eight to 12 minutes of edited footage."
The goal is for Bryant to pick up tendencies of rival players. Have they added any new moves? Do they prefer to pull-up right and attack the basket driving left? Have they been aggressively driving to the basket or have they been settling for outside jump shots?
Kobe's objective is "to find ways to take away comfort zones from opponents."
"It's a blueprint," said Bryant, an eight-time member of the NBA all-defensive team. "So if something goes down, it's not something you haven't seen before. Everybody's got tendencies.You've got to take him out of his spots. That's the key."
Says Patrick O'Keefe, another member of the Lakers' video staff:
"It's like a straight-A student who still goes to all the extra study sessions."
The Lakers have had dozens of great players over the years, but according to the team's director of video services Chris Bodaken, "Hands down, he's the biggest video fiend we've ever had. I didn't know if it was possible to be more competitive than Magic was, but I think he might be. It carries over into his preparation, and this is part of that."
The Lakers' video staff goes "through an opponent's last few games and find key plays from the players Bryant will guard, presenting him with eight to 12 minutes of edited footage."
The goal is for Bryant to pick up tendencies of rival players. Have they added any new moves? Do they prefer to pull-up right and attack the basket driving left? Have they been aggressively driving to the basket or have they been settling for outside jump shots?
Kobe's objective is "to find ways to take away comfort zones from opponents."
"It's a blueprint," said Bryant, an eight-time member of the NBA all-defensive team. "So if something goes down, it's not something you haven't seen before. Everybody's got tendencies.You've got to take him out of his spots. That's the key."
Says Patrick O'Keefe, another member of the Lakers' video staff:
"It's like a straight-A student who still goes to all the extra study sessions."
8.26.2008
KOBE - THE OLYMPICS
Every game, Bryant has been the first player in a defensive stance, the first guy guarding the opponent in the backcourt, squatting and straining alone in front of his four teammates who have no choice but to imitate him and make it their mantra.
"He gives it his all on every second of every play. You see that and you're like, you've got to do the same thing," said center Chris Bosh. "You see a guy playing that hard, you'll do anything not to let him down."
The players who once shunned him now actually learn from him, drawing inspiration from his preparation.
Every game, he's the player pointing to other players, directing them on both sides of the court, counseling them, cheering them.
"You hear a lot of things about Kobe, but I had no idea he was such a basketball junkie," said guard Chris Paul. "He studies all the film and talks basketball all the time."
"We're good friends, so none of what he does surprises me," said center Carlos Boozer.
The loner has become an embraced leader, and you could see it again Friday in a 101-81 rout of defending Olympic champion Argentina.
Before the game, the handful of players who had competed on the embarrassing 2004 Olympics team in Athens pleaded with them for revenge.
Bryant listened, and came out crazy.
He scored the first points on a reverse follow-up layup. He made the first defensive stop while swarming Manu Ginobili into a three-point miss.
He threw the first big elbow of the game, shoving Ginobili right in front of a whistle-chewing official, setting the tone for an hourlong battle.
"Kobe was the guy; he was like, 'I want to guard Manu,' " Chris Paul said. "He always wants to guard the other team's best player."
It's one thing for him to say that in a Lakers locker room, on a team where he has to guard the opposing star.
It's another thing to say it in a room filled with stars, where he knows that concentrating on defense will hurt his scoring.
"The things he does out there, they're not about putting the ball in the basket," said Carmelo Anthony. "They're about his presence."
Notice something interesting about that sentence?
How many times does a teammate compliment Bryant on something that doesn't involve numbers? Even when his Lakers teammates talk about how Bryant won't let them lose, they are talking about his scoring.
As perhaps the ultimate compliment, Bryant's teammates here are raving about him in spite of his numbers.
He is only the third-leading scorer on the team, at 14.3 points a game. He ranks fourth in steals. He ranks sixth in assists. Eighth in rebounding.
It's not about the numbers. It's about the perception.
Notice something interesting about this column?
As recently as a year ago, you couldn't write a story about Kobe Bryant's impact on a team without talking to Kobe Bryant. His teammates never had much to say.
This time, though, there are no Bryant quotes. There is not enough room. His teammates said plenty.
"He gives it his all on every second of every play. You see that and you're like, you've got to do the same thing," said center Chris Bosh. "You see a guy playing that hard, you'll do anything not to let him down."
The players who once shunned him now actually learn from him, drawing inspiration from his preparation.
Every game, he's the player pointing to other players, directing them on both sides of the court, counseling them, cheering them.
"You hear a lot of things about Kobe, but I had no idea he was such a basketball junkie," said guard Chris Paul. "He studies all the film and talks basketball all the time."
"We're good friends, so none of what he does surprises me," said center Carlos Boozer.
The loner has become an embraced leader, and you could see it again Friday in a 101-81 rout of defending Olympic champion Argentina.
Before the game, the handful of players who had competed on the embarrassing 2004 Olympics team in Athens pleaded with them for revenge.
Bryant listened, and came out crazy.
He scored the first points on a reverse follow-up layup. He made the first defensive stop while swarming Manu Ginobili into a three-point miss.
He threw the first big elbow of the game, shoving Ginobili right in front of a whistle-chewing official, setting the tone for an hourlong battle.
"Kobe was the guy; he was like, 'I want to guard Manu,' " Chris Paul said. "He always wants to guard the other team's best player."
It's one thing for him to say that in a Lakers locker room, on a team where he has to guard the opposing star.
It's another thing to say it in a room filled with stars, where he knows that concentrating on defense will hurt his scoring.
"The things he does out there, they're not about putting the ball in the basket," said Carmelo Anthony. "They're about his presence."
Notice something interesting about that sentence?
How many times does a teammate compliment Bryant on something that doesn't involve numbers? Even when his Lakers teammates talk about how Bryant won't let them lose, they are talking about his scoring.
As perhaps the ultimate compliment, Bryant's teammates here are raving about him in spite of his numbers.
He is only the third-leading scorer on the team, at 14.3 points a game. He ranks fourth in steals. He ranks sixth in assists. Eighth in rebounding.
It's not about the numbers. It's about the perception.
Notice something interesting about this column?
As recently as a year ago, you couldn't write a story about Kobe Bryant's impact on a team without talking to Kobe Bryant. His teammates never had much to say.
This time, though, there are no Bryant quotes. There is not enough room. His teammates said plenty.
5.27.2008
KOBE THE KILLER
A great moment in humility it was not.
After scoring 25 of his 27 points in the second half of Game 1 of the Western Conference finals last week against the San Antonio Spurs, Los Angeles Lakers star Kobe Bryant said of his strong finishing kick, "I can get off at any time. In the second half I did that." Translation: I can score at will.
Granted, Bryant was just being honest, but as you may have noticed, Bryant isn't big on tact. As teammate Luke Walton dryly puts it, "Kobe does not lack for confidence."
Just as Bryant's bravado irks many -- it also makes him riveting to watch. His eruptions are almost comically predictable. Former teammate Devean George, now with the Dallas Mavericks, speaks of "that Kobe face where he starts looking around all pissed off." His coach at Lower Merion High in Ardmore, Pa., Gregg Downer, says he can recognize this expression even on TV.
So there was Kobe on May 21, with the Lakers down 20 in the third quarter and the L.A. crowd starting to boo, whipping the ball between his legs and shaking his noggin at Bowen like some enormous, ticked-off bobblehead. What followed seemed, in retrospect, inevitable: the deep jumpers, the twisting drives, the scowls and, finally, a cold-blooded Bryant pull-up in the lane with 23.9 seconds left to cap the 89-85 comeback win.
Call it what you will: killer instinct, competitive fire, hatred of losing or, as Boston Celtics reserve guard Sam Cassell once said, "that Jordan thing." It's what has spurred Bryant all these years, what the Lakers will rely on if they are to win their first post-Shaq championship, what separates Kobe from the rest of the NBA. In 2002 Bryant said, "There's only two real killers in this league," meaning himself and Michael Jordan. Well, now there is only one.
Because Kobe is Kobe, however, he cannot (or will not) soften his edge, the way Jordan did with his buddy-buddy NBA friendships. Bryant, it manifests itself during practice, during games, during summer workouts, during conversation. "He can't turn it off, even if he tried," says Devean George, one of a handful of NBA players relatively close to Bryant. "Kobe wants it so badly that he rubs an awful lot of people the wrong way," says Lakers consultant Tex Winter, the guru of the triangle offense, who has known Bryant since 1999. "But they're not willing to understand what's inside the guy."
O.K., then, let's try to understand. Starting at the beginning, moment by basketball moment.
It's 1989, and Bryant is 11 years old and living in Italy, where his father, Joe, is playing professional basketball. One day Kobe bugs Brian Shaw, a Boston Celtics first-round pick playing in Rome because of a contract dispute, to go one-on-one. Eventually Shaw agrees to a game of H-O-R-S-E. "To this day Kobe claims he beat me," says Shaw, now a Lakers assistant. "I'm like, Right, I'm really trying to beat an 11-year-old kid. But he's serious." Even back then Shaw noticed something different. "His dad was a good player, but he was the opposite of Kobe, real laid-back," says Shaw. "Kobe was out there challenging grown men to play one-on-one, and he really thought he could win."
It's early 1992, and Bryant is an eighth-grader in the suburbs of Philadelphia, skinny as an unfurled paper clip. He is playing against the Lower Merion varsity in an informal scrimmage. The older teens are taken aback. "Here's this kid, and he has no fear of us at all," says Doug Young, then a sophomore. "He's throwing elbows, setting hard screens." Bryant wasn’t the best player on the floor that day -- not yet -- but he was close.
It's 1995, and Bryant is the senior leader of the Lower Merion team, obsessed with winning a state championship. He comes to the gym at 5 a.m. to work out before school, stays until 7 p.m. afterward. It's all part of the plan. When the Aces lost in the playoffs the previous spring, Bryant stood in the locker room, interrupting the seniors as they hugged each other, and all but guaranteed a title, adding, "The work starts now."
During the Kobe era at Lower Merion no moment was inconsequential, no drill unworthy of ultimate concentration. In one practice during his senior year, "just a random Tuesday," as coach Downer recalls, Bryant was engaged in a three-on-three drill in a game to 10. One of his teammates was Rob Schwartz, a 5' 7" junior benchwarmer. With the game tied at nine, Schwartz had an opening, drove to the basket and missed, allowing the other side to score and win. "Now, most kids go to the water fountain and move on," says Downer. Not Bryant. He chased Schwartz into the hallway and berated him. It didn't stop there, either. "Ever get the feeling someone is staring at you -- you don't have to look at them, but you know it?" says Schwartz. "I felt his eyes on me for the next 20 minutes. It was like, by losing that drill, I'd lost us the state championship."
Bryant had already begun to coax teammates into staying late or coming in at odd hours so he could hone his skills. "We'd play games of one-on-one to 100," says Schwartz. "Sometimes he'd score 80 points before I got one basket. I think the best I ever did was to lose 100-12." Imagine the focus required to score 80 freakin' baskets before your opponent scores one. And Bryant's probably still pissed that Schwartz broke double digits.
It's 1996, and the Lakers call in Bryant, fresh off his senior prom for a predraft workout at the Inglewood High gym. In attendance are G.M. Jerry West and two members of L.A.'s media relations staff, John Black and Raymond Ridder. Bryant is to play one-on-one against Michael Cooper, the former Lakers guard and one of the premier defenders in NBA history. Cooper is 40 years old but still in great shape, wiry and long and stronger than the teenaged Bryant. The game is not even close. "It was like Cooper was mesmerized by him," says Ridder, now the Golden State Warriors' executive director of media relations. After 10 minutes West stands up. "That's it, I've seen enough," Ridder remembers West saying. "He's better than anyone we've got on the team right now. Let's go."
It would be a pattern: Bryant bearing down on players he once idolized. At Magic Johnson's summer charity game in 1998 he went after Orlando Magic star Penny Hardaway so hard -- in a charity game -- that Hardaway spent the fall telling people he couldn't wait to play the Lakers so he could go back at Bryant. And, more famously, Kobe attempted to go one-on-one against Jordan in the '98 All-Star Game, waving off a screen from Karl Malone. Take your pick-and-rolling butt out of here; I've got Jordan iso'd! That one didn't go over so well with the Mailman. "When young guys tell me to get out of the way," Malone said at the time, "that's a game I don't need to be in."
In Bryant's mind, however, no one is unbeatable. As a rookie with the Lakers, despite his coming straight out of high school, he approached Harris. "He said, 'Coach, if you just give me the ball and clear out, I can beat anybody in this league,' " recalls Harris. When that pitch didn't work, the 6' 6" Bryant returned. "Then he'd say, 'Coach, I can post up anybody who's guarding me. If you just get me in there and clear it out, I can post up anybody.' " Harris chuckles. "I said, 'Kobe, I know you can, but right now you can't do it at a high enough rate for the team we have, and I'm not going to tell Shaquille O'Neal to get out of the way so you can do this.' Kobe didn't like it. He understood it, but in his heart he didn't accept it."
It’s 2000, and Bryant is an All-Star and franchise player. Still, after guard Isaiah Rider signs as a free agent, Bryant repeatedly forces him to play one-on-one after practice -- Bryant wins, of course -- to reinforce his alpha alpha male status. When six-time All-Star guard Mitch Richmond arrives the next year, he gets the same. "He was the man, and he wanted us to know it," says Richmond. "He was never mean or personal about it, it's just how he was."
Not that Bryant never loses, but beat him at your own risk. Decline a rematch and . . . well, that's not an option. "If you scored on him in practice or did something to embarrass him, he would just keep on challenging you and challenging you until you stayed after and played him so he could put his will on you and dominate you," says Shaw, Bryant's teammate from 1999 to 2003. This included not allowing players to leave the court. Literally. "He'd stand in our way and say, 'Nah, nah, we're gonna play. I want you to do that move again,' " Shaw says. "And you might be tired and say, 'Nah, I did it in practice.' But he was just relentless and persistent until finally you'd go play, and he'd go at you."
And just as he once did with Rob Schwartz, Bryant keeps NBA teammates after practice as guinea pigs. He unveils a spin move or a crossover or something else he has picked up watching tape and does it over and over and over. "The crazy thing about it is, he has the ability to put new elements in his game overnight," says George, a Laker from 1999 to 2006 and a frequent target of Kobe's requests. "He might say, 'Stay after and guard this move. Let me try it on you,' and he'll do it the next day in the game." George pauses to let this sink in. "Most of us, we'll try it alone, then we'll try it in practice, then in a scrimmage, and only then will we bring it out for a game. He'd do it the next day -- and it would work."
It's 2003, and Bryant is getting worked up in an interview while talking about a variation on a move: a jab step-and-pause, where you sink deep, hesitate to let the defender relax and, instead of bringing the jab foot back, push off it. Soon enough, Bryant is out of his chair and using the reporter as a defender on the carpeted floor. Then he has the reporter trying the move. Some people are Star Wars nerds; Bryant is a basketball nerd. "I think Kobe's actually a little bit embarrassed by his love of basketball," says Downer. "People called him a loner, but it's just that basketball is all he wants to focus on. I think he's part of a dying breed that loves the game that way."
That's why Bryant gets so excited to meet kindred souls. Asked last week about Spurs coach Gregg Popovich, Bryant's face lit up as he remembered the time he played for Pop. "I was really hoping he'd run us through one of those rigorous practices he does," said Bryant, who got his wish. By the way, Kobe was talking about practice for the '05 All-Star Game.
Now it's 2008, the Western Conference finals. Bryant is finally where he wants to be: an MVP playing on his team, no behemoth Hall of Famer to get in the way of post-ups, within reach of a title. He is also, by almost all accounts, the best player in the league. "It's not even close," says one Western Conference scout. "The difference between him and LeBron James is like the one between a Maserati and a Volvo."
The scout has other things to say about Bryant. For example, on his weaknesses: "Um, let me think . . . long pause . . . No, I don't think he has any." On his athleticism: "There are probably 10 with more in the league" -- he names Andre Iguodala, Josh Smith, Dwight Howard and J.R. Smith as examples -- "but no one uses his as well as Kobe. Just watch his footwork sometime." And on his focus: "There's a difference between loving basketball and liking basketball. There are only about 30 guys in the league who love it, who play year-round. Allen Iverson loves to play when the lights come on. Kobe loves doing the stuff necessary before the lights come on."
This thing, this freakish compulsion, may be the hardest element of the game to quantify. There are no plus-minus stats to measure a player's ruthlessness, his desire to beat his opponent so badly he'll need therapy to recover. One thing's for sure: You can't teach it. If so, Eddy Curry would be All-NBA and Derrick Coleman would be getting ready for his induction ceremony in Springfield, Mass. But people know it when they see it. G.M.'s, coaches and scouts cite only a few others who have a similar drive -- Tim Duncan, Kevin Garnett, Manu Ginóbili, Steve Nash, Chris Paul and Deron Williams -- though they make clear that none of those stars are in Kobe's league. (In an SI poll earlier this season Bryant was a runaway winner as the opponent players feared most, at 35%.)
Idan Ravin, a personal trainer who works with Chris Paul, Carmelo Anthony, Gilbert Arenas and Elton Brand and is known by some in the league as "the hoops whisperer" for his effect on players, has even broken killer instinct down into components: love of the game, ambition, obsessive-compulsive behavior, arrogance/ confidence, selfishness and nonculpability/ guiltlessness. He sees them all in Bryant.
"If he's a ruthless S.O.B., I kind of respect that," says Ravin. "Why should he be passing up opportunities? Why pass it to a guy who doesn't work as hard, who doesn't want it like you do?"
Even now, every little challenge matters to Bryant. Here he is at the end of a practice last week. Each Laker has to take a free throw. Everybody hits his except Bryant, who rims one out. The only shooter left is Derek Fisher, who shot 88.3% from the line this season. Bryant stands to the side of the basket, fidgeting. As Fisher's shot arcs toward the rim, Bryant suddenly takes two quick steps and leaps to goaltend the attempt. "Of course," forward Lamar Odom says later, "he couldn't be the only one to miss."
So, you see, this is Kobe, all of this. Sometimes childish, sometimes regal, sometimes stubborn, always relentless. This is a guy who, according to Nike spokesperson KeJuan Wilkins, had the company shave a couple of millimeters off the bottom of his signature shoe because "in his mind that gave him a hundredth of a second better reaction time." A guy who has played the last three months with a torn ligament in the pinkie of his shooting hand. A guy who, says teammate Coby Karl, considers himself "an expert at fouling without getting called for it." A guy who says of being guarded by the physical Bowen, "It'll be fun" -- and actually means it. A guy who, no matter what he does, will never get the chance to play the one game he'd die for: Bryant versus Jordan, each in his prime. "There'd be blood on the floor by the end," says Winter, who has coached them both.
This is Kobe Bryant, age 29, in pursuit of his fourth NBA title. Even if it's hard for us to understand him, perhaps it's time that we appreciate him.
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