Chapter 84: Four and Counting

The second quarter started with Kobe assuming he would stay in. He had nine already, and while his legs weren’t exactly fresh, they felt a hell of a lot better than most of the guys around him.

Shaq had spent half the first quarter trailing plays, Eddie had bent over and grabbed his shorts during the last timeout, and even Campbell had been slower getting from one end to the other.

Kobe stood when the horn sounded, only for Del Harris to point at him. “Sit.”

Kobe stopped. “I’m fine, Coach.”

Del barely looked up from the board. “You’ll go back in with the main group.”

There wasn’t much to argue with. Kobe grabbed a towel and dropped into the chair beside Shaq. He understood what Del was doing even if he didn’t particularly like it. They were four games into the season, on the second night of a back-to-back, and Kobe had already become responsible for more of the offense than anyone expected when training camp opened.

Being young helped, but it didn’t make him indestructible. Twenty years of NBA basketball had taught him that the dangerous nights weren’t always the ones where your body screamed at you.

Sometimes you felt fine, played forty minutes, felt fine again two nights later, and kept doing it until February arrived and suddenly your legs weren’t working anymore.

Shaq sat two chairs down with a water bottle resting against his knee and looked considerably less interested in arguing for more minutes. Fisher brought the second unit onto the floor, and Charlotte went after them immediately. Muggsy pushed whenever the Lakers were slow getting back, Mason kept creating traffic around the paint, and Dell Curry slipped around one of those screens, caught the ball on the wing, and had enough time to set his feet.

Swish.

Fisher pointed toward the screen while looking at Bowen.

Another Lakers possession went nowhere. Fisher dribbled through a screen, didn’t like what he saw, pulled it back out, and eventually gave the ball to Campbell with the shot clock disappearing.

Campbell forced something over Vlade and hit the front rim.

Charlotte ran again. This time Curry came around a screen in transition with Fisher a step behind him, and Kobe knew it was good before Curry released it.

Swish.

Shaq rubbed both hands over his face. “Muggsy making us look old out there.”

Del gave the second unit another possession.

Fisher got them into something better this time, and Bowen found Campbell underneath, but Campbell couldn’t finish through contact. Vlade grabbed the rebound, and Del was already standing. “Timeout.”

Shaq groaned as he pushed himself out of the chair while Kobe pulled off his warm-up shirt. Del didn’t yell during the timeout. He moved two magnets around the board, reminded them to get back on makes and misses, then looked directly at Kobe and Shaq. “We have to slow the game down.”

As the horn sounded, Kobe looked over at Shaq. “We gotta shrink that lead down.”

Shaq slapped his hands together and started toward the scorer’s table. “Then give me the damn ball.”

“Now you want it? You have to actually keep up first.”

Kobe followed him onto the floor laughing. For the first time all night, his legs felt a little lighter.

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Kobe brought the ball across half court and waited for Shaq to come up.

Charlotte crowded the strong side, clearly expecting Kobe to attack after spending the first quarter doing exactly that.

Shaq set the screen, Kobe turned the corner, and Vlade stepped away from the paint.

Kobe took one more dribble, waited until Vlade’s shoulders turned toward him, then dropped the ball behind him.

Shaq caught it moving and needed only one step.

BOOM.

Two hands went over the rim, and the whole thing shook hard enough that Vlade looked up at it after Shaq landed. Kobe was already running the other way.

“Fuck yeah.” Shaq caught up enough to hear him and grinned.

Charlotte came back through Rice, who curled around Mason, caught near the elbow, and knocked down another jumper before Eddie could recover.

Del responded at the next dead ball by calling Bowen over. “Bruce, lock down Rice.” That was all the instruction he needed. Bowen nodded and checked in.

Kobe watched Bowen pick Rice up almost as soon as Charlotte crossed half court. He wasn’t the defender Kobe remembered yet.

That version had years of experience, stronger habits, and a reputation that changed how people played against him. This Bruce was still fighting for minutes, but the annoying part was already there.

Rice came around a screen, and Bowen got caught on Mason’s shoulder. For a second Kobe thought he was gone, but Bowen kept chasing. Rice caught, turned, and rose, only for Bowen to arrive with a hand in his vision. Back rim. Shaq ripped down the rebound.

“Go!”

Kobe took the outlet and immediately realized nobody else was running with him. Of course. He slowed near half court as Muggsy picked him up with a grin. “Thought you were going somewhere.”

Kobe glanced behind him. Shaq was still jogging across half court. “I’ll be there, I’ll be there.”

Once everybody finally arrived, Kobe went back to the same action. Shaq came up, but this time Vlade stayed lower, clearly waiting for the pass behind him. Kobe saw it and kept the ball.

Muggsy got caught on the screen for half a second, which was enough for Kobe to rise from inside the foul line.

Swish.

The rest of the quarter wasn’t pretty, and Kobe was perfectly fine with that.

The Lakers didn’t need pretty.

They needed possessions that didn’t end with Muggsy running toward the other basket while three purple jerseys watched from behind.

Kobe started walking the ball up more often, forcing Charlotte to defend for longer stretches. The Hornets still shaded toward him whenever he approached a screen, so he kept making them pay somewhere else. Sometimes that meant Shaq.

Sometimes Eddie got a clean look. Once Kobe drove two steps into the lane, drew Mason toward him, and bounced the ball behind his back to Campbell along the baseline.

Campbell missed, glanced at Kobe on the way back, and said, “My bad.”

Kobe waved it off. “You’re good.”

The Lakers kept grinding from there. Shaq finally started getting a deeper position against Vlade, while Kobe continued slowing the pace whenever Charlotte threatened to get out and run. It wasn’t pretty, but little by little, the lead disappeared.

By the time the halftime buzzer sounded, the scoreboard had flipped.

Lakers 44, Hornets 43.

Kobe glanced up at it before heading toward the tunnel. One point wasn’t much, but after the way they’d looked in the first half, he’d take it.

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Inside the locker room, Del waited until everyone settled before telling them exactly that. “Stop pretending you’re not tired.”

A few guys laughed, but Del didn’t. “I’m serious. They’re fresher. Fine. Doesn’t mean we have to play their game. Take care of the ball, get the big fella touches, make them defend in the half court, and quit giving Muggsy the fast break every time we miss.”

Shaq was stretched across part of the training table while one of the trainers worked on his legs.

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Charlotte put Glen Rice on Kobe early in the third, and Kobe noticed before the ball was even inbounded. Rice had a few inches and more weight, and he made sure Kobe felt both whenever Kobe tried to come across the lane.

Kobe wasn’t interested in proving he could score through him tonight.

He took Rice toward the wing, waited until Shaq established position, and threw the ball inside.

Rice turned his head toward the post for half a second, which was all Kobe needed. He cut behind him, Shaq saw it immediately, and the bounce pass arrived in stride for a layup.

On the next possession, Rice stayed home on the cut, which left Shaq alone against Vlade. That wasn’t much better. Shaq backed him down and scored off the glass.

Charlotte came back through Muggsy, who got Fisher leaning one direction before disappearing the other way for a layup.

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By the fourth, Shaq had completely taken control of the matchup inside. Charlotte still had more bounce late. Curry kept moving, Muggsy kept trying to speed the game up, and Rice continued looking for his shot. It was just that when the big man got going, there wasn’t much you could do.

Vlade tried playing him straight up. Shaq backed him down and scored. Mason came over to help the next time, and Shaq kicked it out before the double could settle. When Charlotte started sending help earlier, Kobe found the openings it left behind. Nothing came easy for the Lakers, but they didn’t need it to. They slowed the game down, got the ball where it needed to go, and let Shaq do the rest.

Charlotte stayed within reach into the final few minutes, but every time they threatened to make a run, the Lakers answered. Rice knocked down a jumper; Shaq came back with a finish inside. Curry hit a three; Kobe answered from the elbow. Muggsy tried pushing after a miss, only to find the Lakers finally getting back and forcing Charlotte to play against a set defense.

With a little over two minutes left, Kobe crossed half court and raised one hand. No rush. Shaq walked into the paint with Vlade behind him, then came up to set the screen. Kobe turned the corner, drew Mason toward him, and slipped the ball back to Shaq. Vlade recovered a second too late.

Shaq caught it and hammered it through with both hands.

He hung for half a second before dropping to the floor, then turned and jogged back with a grin.

Kobe met him near half court. “You awake now?”

Shaq pointed at him. “Keep passing me the ball.”

Charlotte never got close enough after that.

The final horn sounded with the scoreboard reading:

Lakers 88, Hornets 79.

Four games. Four wins.

Shaq finished with 31 points and 14 rebounds, doing most of his damage after the slow start. Kobe had 21 points, 5 rebounds, and 7 assists, while Glen Rice led Charlotte with 22, and Dell Curry added 14.

It wasn’t fifty points. There wasn’t a record attached to it, and nobody was going to replay one possession all week as they had after New York.

But Kobe was perfectly fine with that.

Tonight, they had just needed that win.

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Having three days between games gave Del Harris something he hadn’t had much of since opening night: real practice. Not a walkthrough, not film followed by treatment, not everybody getting on another plane.

Bowen started getting more repetitions with the main group after what he’d done against Rice. Del mixed lineups constantly, sometimes putting Bowen beside Kobe and Eddie, sometimes keeping Ceballos with the starters and using Bowen with the second group. Nothing had been decided, but Kobe could already feel the difference.

Bowen didn’t need the ball.

He defended, moved when he was supposed to move, and stayed out of the places Shaq wanted to occupy.

Eddie could take one perimeter matchup, Bowen another, and Kobe didn’t have to spend every possession chasing the opponent’s best scorer before turning around and initiating the offense.

During a water break, Fisher walked over with a newspaper folded underneath his arm and tossed it onto the chair beside Kobe. “Your boy in Philly went off again.”

Kobe glanced down long enough to see Iverson’s picture. Of course.

Fisher shook his head. “Every time I look, this dude is scoring thirty-something.”

“I mean he’s all they got.”

Fisher stared at him. “What does that mean?”

Kobe caught a pass from Eddie and shot.

Swish.

“He’s supposed to score.”

Fisher laughed. “I’m just saying, everybody’s gonna keep comparing you two.”

“They can. I’m waiting on his 51-point game.”

Another shot went up and dropped.

Fisher watched it. “You don’t care?”

Kobe shrugged and caught the return pass.

He remembered Allen too well not to care—the speed, the crossover, the attitude, the nights when it seemed like a man that small had decided the entire league wasn’t worth shit.

Across the floor, Del blew the whistle and called everyone back.

Not everybody was enjoying the new practice combinations as much as Kobe.

Ceballos noticed every minute Bowen spent with the main group.

Kobe caught him talking to Del once near the sideline. He couldn’t hear everything, only Cedric asking about the rotation and Del telling him they were trying things.

Later, Bowen ran with the first group again and Cedric’s expression tightened.

Kobe stayed out of it. Twenty years around NBA locker rooms had taught him that not every uncomfortable silence needed somebody to fill it.

Practice continued, and before long Shaq was complaining about running. Eddie told him running was generally part of basketball.

Shaq told Eddie basketball would be better without it, and Fisher laughed hard enough that he missed the next pass.

For a team that had looked half dead in Charlotte, they sounded considerably better now.

After practice, Del returned to his office and called Jerry West. “We’ve got some things to figure out.”

West didn’t sound particularly concerned. “We’re undefeated.”

Del leaned back in his chair. “The second unit, for one. Charlotte exposed it. When Shaq and Kobe are both sitting, we don’t have anybody consistently settling us down.”

“I saw we were lacking a scorer.”

“Bowen gave us something, though.”

“I saw that too.”

West was quiet again, and Del continued. “I’m not saying we need to do anything tomorrow. But another ball handler wouldn’t hurt. Somebody who can keep the offense alive without Kobe having to fix everything when he checks back in.”

“We’re four games in, Del.”

“I know, but it’s for the whole season.”

West laughed softly as the conversation continued throughout the afternoon.