Chapter 85: Payback in H-Town

Three days off helped. By Sunday night, the Lakers looked a lot better than they had in Charlotte, and the Forum was loud from the opening introductions.

At 4–0, people were starting to expect a win every night.

But Atlanta wasn’t going to make it easy.

Lenny Wilkens had them organized from the start. Mookie Blaylock pressured the ball, Steve Smith took his time finding his spots, and Christian Laettner kept pulling Campbell farther away from the basket. Bruce Bowen was the biggest change for the Lakers, getting his first start after what he’d shown against Charlotte.

Shaq got going early against Mutombo, getting deep enough for a couple of easy finishes, but Atlanta settled in pretty quickly. Mutombo made everything around the rim harder, Laettner kept finding space outside, and the Hawks didn’t seem bothered by playing slow.

And Kobe couldn’t find his shot either.

His first pull-up hit the back rim. A three rolled out. Another jumper came up short. After a while, he stopped thinking about it. Nothing felt wrong. He wasn’t hurt. The shots just weren’t falling.

Atlanta took advantage. Laettner kept dragging Campbell outside, Blaylock found shooters whenever the Lakers helped, and Smith started getting loose whenever Eddie lost him. By halftime, Atlanta was up 52–45.

Kobe had seven points.

He knew somebody would ask about it afterward if they lost. Seven points. Bad shooting. Was something wrong?

Nothing was wrong.

They just weren’t playing well.

That started to change after halftime. Kobe picked up Blaylock himself and pointed toward Smith before Atlanta’s first possession.

A few possessions later, Laettner got away from Campbell again and knocked down another jumper. Kobe watched him run back, then looked toward the bench. At the next dead ball, Del looked down the bench. “Ben!”

Wallace was already getting up.

It helped. Ben didn’t give Laettner as much room outside, and he was strong enough that Atlanta couldn’t do much with him inside either. Bowen stayed with Smith, Kobe stayed on Blaylock, and Eddie handled whoever was left.

With Shaq behind them, Atlanta suddenly had to work a lot harder.

Midway through the third, Mutombo caught the ball deep against Shaq. He backed him down twice, turned over his shoulder and lifted the ball for a hook. Kobe had been watching from the weak side. The moment Mutombo turned, he stepped into the lane, timed his jump and swatted the shot toward the baseline.

The Forum erupted.

Kobe landed in front of Mutombo, who turned to look at him. With a grin, Kobe raised his hand and slowly wagged one finger, giving Mutombo a taste of his own medicine.

The Lakers didn’t need anything else. Atlanta managed only 11 points in the third quarter, and what had been a seven-point deficit at halftime became a 66–63 Lakers lead going into the fourth.

Kobe’s jumper still wasn’t there, so he stopped looking for it. He pushed when there was space, got the ball to Shaq when he had position and moved it when Atlanta sent help. Eddie started making shots. Bowen kept bothering Smith. Ben barely touched the ball on offense and didn’t seem to care.

Atlanta hung around for a while in the fourth, but eventually Shaq started getting whatever he wanted. Eddie hit a three from the corner, Wallace grabbed an offensive rebound and kicked it back out to Kobe for a jumper, and then Shaq scored on consecutive trips inside.

That was pretty much it. Atlanta never made another real run, and the Lakers didn’t give them one.

When the horn sounded, the scoreboard read Lakers 91, Hawks 78.

Five games. Five wins.

Shaq finished with 28 points and 14 rebounds, Eddie had 17, and Kobe finished with 15 points, 2 rebounds, 6 assists, 1 steal, and 2 blocks. Not much compared to some of his first four games, but he didn’t care. They’d won.

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The Houston hotel smelled like lemon cleaner and whatever the last convention had spilled into the carpet. It was after one in the morning, but Kobe still wasn’t tired. He sat at the end of the bed flipping through channels, stopping whenever SportsCenter came back around to the Rockets.

Hakeem was everywhere. One highlight showed him spinning baseline for a jumper. Another had him blocking a shot and running the floor. Then came the graphic for the next night’s game, Hakeem on one side and Shaq on the other. Kobe smiled when the announcer called Hakeem the standard every young center was chasing.

There was a knock at the door.

Kobe checked the clock.

1:12 a.m.

He opened it and found Shaq standing there in sweats and a T-shirt, holding a Styrofoam cup and a package of Oreos.

“You know what time it is?”

Shaq walked past him. “So what, aren’t you awake?”

“That wasn’t the que-“

Shaq dropped into the desk chair, ignoring his complaint, and opened the Oreos. “Why are you watching this shit?”

Kobe closed the door. “Why are you in my room?”

Shaq ignored him.

For a while, they watched without talking. Hakeem caught the ball on the block, gave one fake and turned into a jumper.

Shaq stopped chewing.

“I need you to help me win this one.”

Kobe looked over.

Shaq was still watching the television, and there wasn’t a joke behind it this time.

“I know I can get him,” Shaq said. “But last time…” He shook his head. “Man.”

He didn’t need to finish. Kobe remembered the 1995 Finals. Orlando had been young and good enough to believe it was ready. Houston swept them anyway, and Hakeem had gotten the better of Shaq in the matchup everybody remembered.

Kobe knew something about getting swept himself just never in the finals.

That shit stayed with you.

“Then don’t make it you against him.”

Shaq looked over. “The hell does that mean?”

“It means don’t spend all night trying to prove you can get every point.”

“Easy for you to say. You ain’t guarding him.”

Kobe laughed as Shaq stood and grabbed another Oreo. He tossed the package onto Kobe’s desk.

“Keep those.”

“I don’t want them.”

“Too bad.”

Shaq reached the door, then looked back. “You better make some damn shots tomorrow.”

“Just don’t get gassed out there.”

Shaq pointed at him. “If you yell ‘run’ at me one time—”

“Run to your room.”

“Motherfucker.”

Kobe was still laughing when Shaq opened the door. But before leaving, Shaq stopped. The smile faded a little.

“Seriously, though. Let’s get this one.”

Kobe looked at him and nodded. “I got you.”

That was enough.

Shaq left, and the room went quiet again. Kobe looked at Hakeem frozen on the television for another second before reaching for the remote.

He turned it off.

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The Compaq Center was already loud when the Lakers arrived. Fans crowded the barriers near the loading entrance, shouting for Shaq and waving signs about Hakeem.

One kid yelled something about free throws that made Eddie laugh.

Inside, the Rockets were finishing warmups. Hakeem worked through a series of short hooks near the basket, barely leaving the floor. Barkley was talking to someone near the scorer’s table, while Drexler came down the lane for a dunk that drew a cheer from the early crowd.

Kobe watched Drexler for a moment. Thirty-four years old, and he could still get up. He’d lost some of the explosiveness Kobe remembered from his Portland days, but he was still quick, smart, and dangerous.

Shaq was unusually quiet during warmups. Kobe didn’t bother him about it. He knew what this matchup meant.

When the introductions began, the crowd made sure the Lakers knew whose building they were in. Shaq got plenty of boos, but nothing compared to the reception Hakeem received. The place erupted when his name was announced, and Hakeem jogged onto the floor with a small wave.

Near midcourt, Hakeem greeted Shaq with a handshake.

“You ready, big fella?”

Shaq didn’t respond

Barkley wandered over, looked Kobe up and down, and grinned. “Man, who let this kid out past curfew?”

Kobe smiled. “Heard you came to Houston chasing a ring, Chuck. First time your fat ass ever chased anything?”

Drexler burst out laughing, and Shaq nearly doubled over.

Barkley shook his head, fighting a grin. “Keep talking, I’m gonna put your skinny ass in the third row.”

The officials called everyone into position, and Kobe jogged toward the backcourt, still smiling.

Houston went straight to Hakeem on its opening possession. He caught the ball against Shaq, backed him down once, then turned over his left shoulder. Shaq stayed with him and got a hand up, but Hakeem leaned away just enough to release a soft jumper.

Swish.

Shaq shook his head as he grabbed the ball. Before Houston could celebrate, Kobe was already calling for the inbound.

“Here!”

Shaq fired the inbound to Kobe, who raced up the middle with Drexler backpedaling in front of him. Kobe attacked the right side of the lane, forcing Hakeem to leave Shaq and step across to help. At the last second, Kobe slipped the ball past him.

Shaq caught it in stride, took one powerful step and exploded off both feet.

BOOM!

He hammered the ball through with both hands, pulling the rim down as Hakeem turned helplessly beneath him. The basket shook, and Shaq dropped to the floor with a roar that drowned out the boos.

“AAAAAAAHHH!”

He pounded his chest, turned toward Hakeem and screamed, “LET’S FUCKING GO!”

But Houston didn’t let him celebrate for too long and answered through Barkley. He caught it against Campbell, backed him toward the paint and turned into a short jumper. Campbell contested it, but Barkley knocked it down anyway.

On the next possession, Kobe brought the ball up quickly again. He found Eddie running the right side, and Eddie attacked before Houston could get its defense organized. Drexler tried to recover, but Eddie was already at the rim.

4-4.

The first few minutes went back and forth. Whenever Houston got into its offense, the Lakers had problems. Hakeem was patient against Shaq, Barkley kept finding ways to get Campbell off balance, and Drexler moved without the ball whenever Kobe turned his attention toward the paint.

But the Lakers were getting good looks too.

Kobe pushed after makes and misses, forcing Houston to get back before it could settle into its defense. Shaq ran the middle when he could, Eddie filled the wing, and Bowen made himself available in the corners.

After Hakeem scored on another turnaround, Kobe took the inbound and raced upcourt. Drexler retreated toward the lane, expecting the drive.

Kobe stopped behind the three-point line.

Drexler got a hand up, but the shot was already gone.

Splash.

“Come on, Clyde. You gotta keep up.” Kobe said as they ran back.

Houston could handle the Lakers in the half court. What was giving them trouble was how quickly Kobe pushed the ball whenever they scored.

Kobe found Shaq running ahead of Hakeem for another dunk, then hit Eddie for a pull-up jumper after drawing two defenders. A few possessions later, Kobe knocked down another three when Drexler went under a screen.

By the end of the quarter, the Lakers had built a 30–23 lead.