First and foremost, a sincere -- if somewhat grudging -- congratulations to the Lakers. People can say what they will about the lucky breaks that they got along their way to the 2009 title, but those who really watch basketball know that rarely are NBA championships won solely on the basis of talent and hard work -- more often than not (though in the case of some, more so than others), it requires a little bit of luck.
Yao breaking his foot...George Karl not having a reliable end-game inbounds play despite being a NBA head coach for 15+ years (cut to scene of me pushing a pencil through my eye)...Courtney Lee missing that alley-oop at the end of Game 2, which, for the record, was not
nearly the chippie that people were screaming it was...Van Gundy inexplicably playing Jameer to the bitter end in Game 4, and Jameer even more inexplicably back-pedaling like Melo in NY on Fisher's tying three...all of that can, and likely will, be viewed by some as ridiculously good fortune for the Lakers.
And you know, maybe it was. But none of that detracts from the fact that when the Lakers had to come through, they did. And for that, they deserve respect and congratulations.
Now, a few musings.
PhilAs probably the biggest Jordan-era Chicago Bulls fan who happened to live in LA the whole time it was happening, I found myself wondering how I would feel upon seeing Phil winning his 10th title and surpassing Red. Spurred by some indistinct sense that he had grown too big for his britches, part of me had grown to somewhat dislike him in recent years. Somewhere along the way, the matter-of-factness that had seemed so charming when he was coaching the Bulls had morphed into an arrogance and sense of entitlement that often had me rolling my eyes.
Watching him tonight, though, and listening to him deflect the praise so deservedly coming his way, I found myself for the first time in a long time, seeing and hearing the guy who had first interviewed for the Bulls head coaching job wearing a Panama hat with a feather in it, and who did all those little things for his players -- the field trips, the handing out of books, the meditation sessions -- not because he was known as 'the Zen Master' and it was almost expected of him, but because he genuinely believed it was good for his players and the mental and emotional health of his teams.
Honestly, I'm sure it's a little bit of both. I'm sure that there's a part of him -- like anyone who's been in the public eye for so long -- that's almost subconciously bought into all that's been said and written about him, to the point where he can't help but act that way. But tonight, I saw the earnest, candid guy who I remember always managed to get me to chuckle over some offhand comment or observation, and that glimpse made me quite happy for Phil, and glad that he's finally being lauded as he should be for being the great coach that he's been over his remarkable career.
And he really has been. People will forever point to the fact that he's had some of the best players to ever play the game, but the bottom line is, what coach who's had any sustained succes hasn't had great players? As I was telling the Wife earlier (who, by the way, deserves an A+ for putting up with me over the course of the playoffs, not to mention her valiantly pretending to be interested whenever I would start talking about it), coaching in the NBA isn't so much about x's and o's as it is about managing egos, enabling players so that they can contribute to the team what they're capable of contributing, and weaving together a group of disparate personalities and skill sets into a cohesive unit. And to date, I would argue that nobody has done it better than Phil.
KobeWell, after seven years, and all the inimitable drama that came between -- basically running out of town perhaps the most dominant big man ever and the aforementioned Hall of Fame coach with nine (now ten) titles, all so he could be the undisputed Man...taking a team that had been in the Finals only a year before, straight to the lottery...two first round flameouts in a row...demanding to be traded from the team that had invested its entire future in him...making it to the Finals after being gift-wrapped a 7-footer with perhaps the purest post game since Tim Duncan, and then losing despite being favored by most pundits, along the way allowing his team to lose a 24-point lead in a must-win game at win, and getting blown out by 39 points in the deciding game -- here's Kobe Bean Bryant. The self-proclaimed "Black Mamba." A champion again.
Now, before all the Laker fans come out of the woodwork screaming "Hater" at me (and I admit, that wasn't the prettiest way I could have painted that picture), let me be the first to say that ...well, you're kind of right. I'm not a fan of Kobe's, and never will be. That said, I am about as big a fan of basketball as there is, and that being the case...there are few players whom I respect more as a basketball player than Kobe Bryant. Without question, he's one of the truly great talents that the game has ever seen, and quite honestly, perhaps the greatest pure scorer there's ever been insofar as being able to score in every way, and from anywhere, possible. Couple that with what is, by all accounts, an almost manic work ethic, and possibly even more compulsive obsession for winning -- as a fan of the game, it would be completely nonsensical for me not to respect him as a basketball player. He's just about everything you would hope for.
Being the fan of the game that I am, watching Kobe in these playoffs has been -- fittingly, perhaps, given his undisputed place as the most polarizing basketball player ever -- an exercise in extremes. There were times when he played at such a high level, with such terrific awareness, that I would find myself smiling in spite of myself -- the fan in me who loves seeing basketball played the way it should be played -- appreciating probably the best individual talent in the game over the past several years, finally playing up to his full potential.
And then there were other times -- again, fittingly, and probably to be more apt, all too predictably -- when he would show why he is simply not as good as Jordan, and never will be. Now again...before Kobe's legion of fans start screaming for my head, this isn't by any means an attempt to diminish Kobe or what he accomplished this year, or in his career, for that matter. It's simply an observation, based on watching not only virtually every single minute of the Laker's playoff games this year, but having watched Kobe his entire career.
Mark Heisler of the LA Times, one of the few basketball writers around who seems to remember that there were some pretty darn good players before this millenium, already touched on it in his recent column on Kobe, noting that "If Michael Jordan was the best ever, it was because of his consistency at a level no one had ever reached. Bryant goes to Jordan's level all the time -- and beyond, where no one ever went before -- between dips. If Jordan was a straight line across the top of the graph, Bryant is a wavy line, with the highs going off the chart."
And quite frankly, for better or worse, it's true, even if it needs to be tempered by the difference in eras (Jordan in his day getting absolutely clobbered anytime he ventured into the lane and actually having to finish a play, while Kobe today -- not to mention all of the league's perimeter stars -- more often than not getting to the free throw line before they even sniff the paint). Some of Kobe's exploits border on incomprehensible -- like the shots referenced by Heisler against Portland in 2004, or outscoring Dallas through three quarters
by himself, or the 81 against Toronto.
And yet, those flashes of brilliance are mirrored, and even almost eclipsed, by moments he's had on the opposite end of the spectrum -- doggedly continuing to hoist shots against the Pistons in 2004 at a 38% clip despite Shaq shooting over 60% from the field...inexplicably refusing to shoot in the second half of Game 7 against the Suns...somehow thinking, as Boston roared back from a 24-point deficit in LA in a must-win game for the Lakers, that throwing up 22-foot fadeaways was a better idea than putting his head down, driving into the lane and getting to the line to staunch the bleeding...and even this spring, lapsing into stretches where he cost, or almost cost, his team what might've otherwise been fairly easy victories, seemingly because of his need to be the hero.
In the end, it doesn't diminish the fact that the Lakers won the title, or the fact that, at long last, Kobe was -- for better or worse -- the driving force behind their title run. But it did accentuate the gap that he's never been able to, and likely never will, bridge, between him and the legacy of the man he's spent his whole career chasing. Thirteen years into his career, it's almost certainly too late to demonstrate the type of consistency, and efficiency (an altogether different story, one to be explored in a later post) that made Jordan the best to ever play. It says here, though, at the least, that there's nothing shameful about that. If he's not there already, Kobe will go down as the second best shooting guard ever -- nothing to sneeze at, to say the least, and something he should be proud of, and that we should appreciate.
