Timberwolves rookie point guard Jonny Flynn speaking about head coach Kurt Rambis:
"Oh, he's definitely on me. But it's good for me. He's got to be harder on his point guard. Every coach in the league is going to be tough on the point guard because that's the heart of the offense, that's the engine that makes the train run. So I welcome it. ... Kurt being on me, wanting me to be my best, it's really helping me. Sometimes you need the toughness of a coach to make you a better player. It's motivating me, hopefully to be something special in this league."
1.17.2010
DEREK JETER - YOU DON'T HAVE TO HAVE TALENT FOR EFFORT
Good story on Derek Jeter told be A's General Manager Billy Beane:
Eight years ago, to his recollection, Beane watched Jeter run out a routine ground ball to shortstop in the late innings of a routine game in which the Athletics were beating the Yankees. Jeter ran down the first base line in 4.1 seconds, a time only possible with an all-out effort. Beane was so impressed by the sprint that he ordered his staff to show the video of that play to all of the organization's players in spring training the following year.
"Here you have one of the best players in the game," Beane says, "who already had made his money and had his four championships by then, and he's down three runs in the seventh inning running like that. It was a way of showing our guys, 'You think you're running hard, until you see a champion and a Hall of Famer run.' It wasn't that our guys were dogging it, but this is different. If Derek Jeter can run all out all the time, everybody else better personally ask themselves why they can't."
Told of the story, Jeter says, "It makes you feel good whenever anybody appreciates how you do things. The least you can do is play hard. It's effort. You don't have to have talent for effort."
Eight years ago, to his recollection, Beane watched Jeter run out a routine ground ball to shortstop in the late innings of a routine game in which the Athletics were beating the Yankees. Jeter ran down the first base line in 4.1 seconds, a time only possible with an all-out effort. Beane was so impressed by the sprint that he ordered his staff to show the video of that play to all of the organization's players in spring training the following year.
"Here you have one of the best players in the game," Beane says, "who already had made his money and had his four championships by then, and he's down three runs in the seventh inning running like that. It was a way of showing our guys, 'You think you're running hard, until you see a champion and a Hall of Famer run.' It wasn't that our guys were dogging it, but this is different. If Derek Jeter can run all out all the time, everybody else better personally ask themselves why they can't."
Told of the story, Jeter says, "It makes you feel good whenever anybody appreciates how you do things. The least you can do is play hard. It's effort. You don't have to have talent for effort."
CP3 - WORK ETHIC
Golden State guard and former All-American Stephen Curry had the chance to work out over the summer with all-star Chris Paul. Here is what Curry says about his work ethic:
"It's just his work ethic, what he does in the offseason to prepare. What's this? His fifth year? And he's working four hours every morning, going hard. I was trying to keep up. I can pick and choose some stuff that I saw him do, but nothing specific. It's just about being in the gym working hard everyday."
"It's just his work ethic, what he does in the offseason to prepare. What's this? His fifth year? And he's working four hours every morning, going hard. I was trying to keep up. I can pick and choose some stuff that I saw him do, but nothing specific. It's just about being in the gym working hard everyday."
KEVIN DURANT - D'ING UP
Kevin Durant has stepped up his defense this year for the Oklahoma City Thunder.
Says one Western Conference scout:
"This year I noticed he's more engaged. He's getting into his stance much sooner and not standing around, and getting back in transition. That's great because he's still very young -- he just turned 21. When you're that gifted offensively as a teenager, you just don't think about defense that much. I give a lot of credit to Thunder coach Scottie Brooks for getting him to buy in."
Says coach Scott Brooks:
"I spent time with Kevin watching the NBA playoff series and talking things over this summer," Brooks said. "There were so many great moments where great players were the ones defending -- Kobe, Carmelo, Paul Pierce -- and so many times the winning basketball play was on defense.
"Kevin always had the effort, but he didn't have the knowledge or the physicalness in his body to go through an entire NBA season playing defense. This summer he got his mind and his body right. He understood that if he was committed, we would be a much better team. We focused on defense from Day One, and when one of your better players is one of your better defenders."
"Knowing when to stay with your man and when to help out is one of the hardest things for young players coming in," Brooks said, "because you think you're playing defense if you're guarding your man, but you also have to be aware of what might happen three passes away.”
"We like to be as disruptive as possible, pushing people to the baseline, defending tight in the paint and closing out on shooters. We constantly talk about having a hand up in guys' faces -- you have to contest to make NBA players miss. And we like to force extra passes and get deflections."
Says one Western Conference scout:
"This year I noticed he's more engaged. He's getting into his stance much sooner and not standing around, and getting back in transition. That's great because he's still very young -- he just turned 21. When you're that gifted offensively as a teenager, you just don't think about defense that much. I give a lot of credit to Thunder coach Scottie Brooks for getting him to buy in."
Says coach Scott Brooks:
"I spent time with Kevin watching the NBA playoff series and talking things over this summer," Brooks said. "There were so many great moments where great players were the ones defending -- Kobe, Carmelo, Paul Pierce -- and so many times the winning basketball play was on defense.
"Kevin always had the effort, but he didn't have the knowledge or the physicalness in his body to go through an entire NBA season playing defense. This summer he got his mind and his body right. He understood that if he was committed, we would be a much better team. We focused on defense from Day One, and when one of your better players is one of your better defenders."
"Knowing when to stay with your man and when to help out is one of the hardest things for young players coming in," Brooks said, "because you think you're playing defense if you're guarding your man, but you also have to be aware of what might happen three passes away.”
"We like to be as disruptive as possible, pushing people to the baseline, defending tight in the paint and closing out on shooters. We constantly talk about having a hand up in guys' faces -- you have to contest to make NBA players miss. And we like to force extra passes and get deflections."
BILLY DONOVAN - THE ARC OF A SEASON
Found a really good article on Billy Donovan talking about Florida's struggles lately. After beating Michigan St. and Syracuse earlier in the year, Florida has dropped its first two conference games and Coach Donovan is asking himself how his team is going to respond. Here is a little from the article:
Gators coach Billy Donovan has had quite a philosophical viewpoint while coaching an elite program. He has plenty of experience managing egos with a roster that has had its share of big-time players mixed with classic four-year players who are necessary to win at a high level. He has been to three national title games and won two, and consistently has Florida known as a national name, even during the past two struggling seasons.
Donovan said he has seen the arc of a season.
"Every team is jacked up for the start of practice, but then the excitement wears off," Donovan said. "You have the first game and then everyone is focusing on minutes. Then you start to distribute them and then you start to understand there is a ceiling to get better. We have a high ceiling."
But Donovan admits there was a dip in intensity when the Gators came off the Michigan State win and Syracuse effort but then landed with a thud when they failed to hold on to a double-digit lead against Richmond in Sunrise, Fla., and then fell flat by losing at home to South Alabama.
"I'm anxious to see how this team responds against LSU," Donovan said. "It's critical for us to separate ourselves. Do they come together as a group? How will this team come together for practice Thursday? What kind of effort will we have? There are external motivational things that happen, like playing Michigan State or Kentucky. But how internally motivated are you?"
Gators coach Billy Donovan has had quite a philosophical viewpoint while coaching an elite program. He has plenty of experience managing egos with a roster that has had its share of big-time players mixed with classic four-year players who are necessary to win at a high level. He has been to three national title games and won two, and consistently has Florida known as a national name, even during the past two struggling seasons.
Donovan said he has seen the arc of a season.
"Every team is jacked up for the start of practice, but then the excitement wears off," Donovan said. "You have the first game and then everyone is focusing on minutes. Then you start to distribute them and then you start to understand there is a ceiling to get better. We have a high ceiling."
But Donovan admits there was a dip in intensity when the Gators came off the Michigan State win and Syracuse effort but then landed with a thud when they failed to hold on to a double-digit lead against Richmond in Sunrise, Fla., and then fell flat by losing at home to South Alabama.
"I'm anxious to see how this team responds against LSU," Donovan said. "It's critical for us to separate ourselves. Do they come together as a group? How will this team come together for practice Thursday? What kind of effort will we have? There are external motivational things that happen, like playing Michigan State or Kentucky. But how internally motivated are you?"
1.14.2010
HOPE
Hope shines brightest when the hour is darkest.
Hope motivates when discouragement comes.
Hope energizes when the body is tired.
Hope sweetens when the bitterness bites.
Hope sings when all melodies are gone.
Hope believes when the evidence is eliminated.
Hope listens for answers when no one is talking.
Hope climbs over obstacles when no one is helping.
Hope endures hardship when no one is caring.
Hope smiles confidently when no one is laughing.
Hope reaches for answers when no one is asking.
Hope presses toward victory when no one is encouraging.
Hope dares to give when no one is sharing.
Hope motivates when discouragement comes.
Hope energizes when the body is tired.
Hope sweetens when the bitterness bites.
Hope sings when all melodies are gone.
Hope believes when the evidence is eliminated.
Hope listens for answers when no one is talking.
Hope climbs over obstacles when no one is helping.
Hope endures hardship when no one is caring.
Hope smiles confidently when no one is laughing.
Hope reaches for answers when no one is asking.
Hope presses toward victory when no one is encouraging.
Hope dares to give when no one is sharing.
MARTIN LUTHER KING JR
"If you are called to be a street sweeper, sweep streets even as Michaelangelo painted or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. Sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, 'Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.'"
NICK SABAN
It's Saturday night at Louisiana State University's Tiger Stadium, where everyone loves a winner. Except coach Nick Saban, who sometimes prefers losers.
That would be sacrilege in many locker rooms. Not in Saban's; he maintains that losers are more willing to polish their techniques, practice harder and do whatever it takes, even into the wee hours, to become the absolute best.
"When you lose, everybody's willing to think, 'What did I do wrong? What do I need to do better?'" Saban said.
Saban, 53, demands improvement from his players, even when they're top dog. Why? Because winning national championships isn't natural, he says. You must bend your entire life around becoming great, beating the urge to rest after you've achieved a little taste of success."
"You have to have a special commitment and willingness to do a lot of things that most aren't willing to do," Saban said.
Saban tells his players not to play the score while they're playing. It shouldn't matter whether we are up 28 or down 10. How come?
"You want them to focus on the present moment," he said. "Whether you're ahead or behind should not affect how you participate in your next play."
That would be sacrilege in many locker rooms. Not in Saban's; he maintains that losers are more willing to polish their techniques, practice harder and do whatever it takes, even into the wee hours, to become the absolute best.
"When you lose, everybody's willing to think, 'What did I do wrong? What do I need to do better?'" Saban said.
Saban, 53, demands improvement from his players, even when they're top dog. Why? Because winning national championships isn't natural, he says. You must bend your entire life around becoming great, beating the urge to rest after you've achieved a little taste of success."
"You have to have a special commitment and willingness to do a lot of things that most aren't willing to do," Saban said.
Saban tells his players not to play the score while they're playing. It shouldn't matter whether we are up 28 or down 10. How come?
"You want them to focus on the present moment," he said. "Whether you're ahead or behind should not affect how you participate in your next play."
1.01.2010
TEBOW'S LAST STAND
Tim Tebow and coach Urban Meyer stood together in one corner of the Louisiana Superdome, sang the school fight song and then offered a final gesture.
Tebow took off on a victory lap. Meyer saluted the Florida fans.
It was Tebow’s way of saying goodbye.
Tebow capped a storied college career with his finest performance. It was the best in BCS history, too.
Tebow threw for a career-high 482 yards and three touchdowns, ran for 51 yards and another score, and fifth-ranked Florida overwhelmed No. 4 Cincinnati 51-24 Friday night in the Sugar Bowl.
“It was incredible,” Tebow said. “Just a great game. It was exactly how you want to go out with these seniors and these coaches in your last game and your last time together. It just really doesn’t get any better than this.”
Florida’s most anticipated season ever ended in New Orleans instead of Pasadena. It came against Cincinnati (12-1) instead of Texas. It was about redemption instead of perfection.
None of that mattered when the Gators took the field.
Tebow wouldn’t let it.
“This has been the best four years of life,” the 2007 Heisman Trophy winner said.
He completed his first 12 passes, led the Gators to scores on their first five possessions and finished with 533 total yards—more than anyone in Bowl Championship Series history. He topped former Texas star Vince Young’s record of 467 yards set against Southern California in the 2005 Rose Bowl.
“They couldn’t stop Superman,” Gators guard Carl Johnson. “They needed some kryptonite.”
Florida, became the first school in the Football Bowl Subdivision to win 13 games in consecutive seasons.
Tebow and his teammates had hoped to repeat as national champions, but a 32-13 loss to Alabama in the Southeastern Conference title game knocked them out of the title picture.
“We tried to show coach where we should have been,” Johnson said. “We had to make a statement game, not only for us, but for coach Meyer. We had a bad game at a crucial moment, but we’re still Florida, we’re still here and we ain’t going nowhere.”
Cincinnati stacked the line of scrimmage, essentially forcing Tebow to beat them through the air. That worked for the Crimson Tide. It backfired for the Bearcats.
The bulky left-hander had all kinds of time to pass and picked apart Cincinnati’s sketchy defense. He nearly had a career game in the first half alone. He completed 20 of 23 passes for 320 yards and three touchdowns, 18 yards shy of his previous career high.
Tebow completed 31 of 35 passes and finished with a 35-6 record in three years as a starter.
Florida clearly had something to prove after getting thumped in Atlanta, and Cincinnati ended up on the receiving end.
Florida finished with a Sugar Bowl-record 659 yards, and the last celebration for the most successful senior class in SEC history came on the Sugar Bowl logo.
“Guys were anxious to get it done,” linebacker Brandon Spikes said. “That game in Atlanta hurt. I told the guys we would get another opportunity to play like we know how to play, and I think we did that today.”
Tebow took off on a victory lap. Meyer saluted the Florida fans.
It was Tebow’s way of saying goodbye.
Tebow capped a storied college career with his finest performance. It was the best in BCS history, too.
Tebow threw for a career-high 482 yards and three touchdowns, ran for 51 yards and another score, and fifth-ranked Florida overwhelmed No. 4 Cincinnati 51-24 Friday night in the Sugar Bowl.
“It was incredible,” Tebow said. “Just a great game. It was exactly how you want to go out with these seniors and these coaches in your last game and your last time together. It just really doesn’t get any better than this.”
Florida’s most anticipated season ever ended in New Orleans instead of Pasadena. It came against Cincinnati (12-1) instead of Texas. It was about redemption instead of perfection.
None of that mattered when the Gators took the field.
Tebow wouldn’t let it.
“This has been the best four years of life,” the 2007 Heisman Trophy winner said.
He completed his first 12 passes, led the Gators to scores on their first five possessions and finished with 533 total yards—more than anyone in Bowl Championship Series history. He topped former Texas star Vince Young’s record of 467 yards set against Southern California in the 2005 Rose Bowl.
“They couldn’t stop Superman,” Gators guard Carl Johnson. “They needed some kryptonite.”
Florida, became the first school in the Football Bowl Subdivision to win 13 games in consecutive seasons.
Tebow and his teammates had hoped to repeat as national champions, but a 32-13 loss to Alabama in the Southeastern Conference title game knocked them out of the title picture.
“We tried to show coach where we should have been,” Johnson said. “We had to make a statement game, not only for us, but for coach Meyer. We had a bad game at a crucial moment, but we’re still Florida, we’re still here and we ain’t going nowhere.”
Cincinnati stacked the line of scrimmage, essentially forcing Tebow to beat them through the air. That worked for the Crimson Tide. It backfired for the Bearcats.
The bulky left-hander had all kinds of time to pass and picked apart Cincinnati’s sketchy defense. He nearly had a career game in the first half alone. He completed 20 of 23 passes for 320 yards and three touchdowns, 18 yards shy of his previous career high.
Tebow completed 31 of 35 passes and finished with a 35-6 record in three years as a starter.
Florida clearly had something to prove after getting thumped in Atlanta, and Cincinnati ended up on the receiving end.
Florida finished with a Sugar Bowl-record 659 yards, and the last celebration for the most successful senior class in SEC history came on the Sugar Bowl logo.
“Guys were anxious to get it done,” linebacker Brandon Spikes said. “That game in Atlanta hurt. I told the guys we would get another opportunity to play like we know how to play, and I think we did that today.”
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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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