Chapter 87: Double OT

The ball was in Kobe’s hand with twenty-one seconds remaining.

Drexler met him beyond half court, crouching low as Shaq moved toward the top of the key. Houston led 98–97, and the crowd inside The Summit was already on its feet.

“You aren’t scoring on me,” Drexler said.

Kobe smiled. “Don’t you ever get tired of saying that?”

Shaq planted himself to Drexler’s left. Kobe dribbled toward the screen, forcing the veteran to fight over it, then pulled the ball back behind the three-point line. Drexler recovered quickly, but Kobe had already created the separation he wanted.

He rose and fired.

Splash.

Lakers 100, Rockets 98.

The Lakers’ bench exploded. Shaq threw both arms into the air while Kobe backpedaled toward half court, holding three fingers up.

“Goddamn!” Drexler shouted, throwing his hands up.

Kobe grinned. “That’s what happens when you give me room.”

“Fuck you and them stupid ass screens!”

Houston called timeout with seven seconds remaining.

Shaq caught Kobe around the shoulders as they headed toward the bench. “THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!”

“Game’s not over!” Del Harris shouted, waving them closer. “Get over here!”

Kobe glanced toward Houston’s bench. Barkley was talking animatedly to Rudy Tomjanovich while Hakeem listened with his hands on his hips. Drexler stood nearby, watching the Lakers.

Seven seconds.

Against most teams, that might have been enough.

Against Hakeem Olajuwon, Kobe wasn’t celebrating yet.

When play resumed, Maloney inbounded to Hakeem near the right elbow. Shaq crowded him immediately, refusing to give him room to turn. Hakeem faced the basket, gave a shoulder fake, and started toward the middle.

Shaq stayed with him.

Kobe came down from the weak side, looking for a chance to help. Hakeem brought the ball low, and Kobe reached in, knocking it loose.

For a moment, Kobe thought he’d stolen it.

But Hakeem recovered, gathered himself, and turned toward the baseline. Shaq was right there, his arm extended as Hakeem leaned away and released a fading jumper.

The buzzer sounded while the ball was still in the air.

Swish.

Lakers, 100 – Rockets, 100.

The Summit erupted.

Kobe stared at the basket. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Shaq stood beneath the rim with both hands on his head.

“MAN, WHAT THE FUCK!”

Across the court, Barkley grabbed Hakeem around the shoulders while Drexler laughed in disbelief. Hakeem simply smiled as his teammates surrounded him.

Kobe walked over to Shaq, who was still staring at the scoreboard.

“Remember when you said you had twenty minutes left?”

Shaq slowly turned toward him.

“Don’t.”

Kobe grinned. “I need five more.”

“Fuck you.”

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Overtime.

Neither team looked particularly happy about it.

Kobe stood near midcourt, watching Shaq and Hakeem prepare for the jump ball. Barkley was arguing with an official about something, Drexler had his hands on his hips, and Eddie Jones was stretching beside the Lakers’ bench.

Shaq looked across at Hakeem. “Aren’t you tired old man? You should go and rest a bit more.”

Hakeem smiled. “You first, big fella.”

The referee tossed the ball, and Shaq tipped it toward Kobe.

Drexler picked him up near the three-point line. Shaq came forward to set a screen, and Kobe used it to turn toward the middle before pulling back behind the arc. Barkley was late stepping up.

Kobe didn’t hesitate.

Splash.

Lakers 103, Rockets 100.

Drexler shook his head as Kobe jogged past.

“Man, you are hitting everything.”

Houston answered through Hakeem, who drew a foul against Shaq and knocked down both free throws. Barkley followed with a short hook over Campbell, putting the Rockets ahead 104–103.

Kobe found Eddie Jones curling toward the free-throw line for a jumper, but Drexler responded with a three of his own.

Houston 107, Los Angeles 105.

“Three for three,” Drexler called as he backpedaled.

The Lakers went straight to Shaq. He caught the ball deep against Hakeem, turned over his left shoulder, and dropped in a short hook to tie the game.

“Can’t stop that, Hakeem!”

Houston missed its next possession, and Kobe pushed the ball upcourt. Drexler stayed with him through the first screen, forcing Kobe to give the ball to Eddie on the wing. Instead of standing still, Kobe cut toward the opposite corner.

Eddie returned the pass.

Drexler was a step late.

Another three.

Lakers 110, Rockets 107.

Tomjanovich called timeout.

Shaq caught the back of Kobe’s jersey as they walked toward the bench and used it to wipe his forehead.

“Man, you are on fire.”

Kobe pulled his jersey away. “You wanna shoot threes, big guy?”

“Hell no.”

Shaq shoved him toward the bench. “Man, fuck you.”

Eddie laughed as Del Harris gathered everyone around his clipboard.

“We only have a three-point lead,” Del said. “So don’t get comfortable. They’re going inside, so finish the possession with a rebound. And don’t give Barkley three chances to score.”

Kobe looked across the court.

Drexler was leaning forward with his hands on his knees while Tomjanovich spoke. He straightened when the timeout horn sounded, high-fived Barkley, and headed back onto the floor.

The veteran was tired. Kobe could see it in the way he moved between possessions.

Unfortunately, Drexler was still playing some damn good defense.

Houston went back to Hakeem, who turned baseline against Shaq and buried another fading jumper. The Lakers missed at the other end, and Barkley grabbed the rebound before calling for the ball in the post.

Campbell expected another attempt inside. Instead, Barkley kicked the ball to Elie, who swung it to Maloney. The ball came back to Barkley near the top of the key, where Campbell was still recovering.

Barkley caught it and fired.

Splash.

Houston 112, Los Angeles 110.

“Y’all forgot I can shoot?” Barkley shouted toward the Lakers’ bench.

With a little over a minute remaining, Kobe brought the ball up and waited for Shaq to establish position. He delivered the entry pass, and Shaq caught it deep enough that one strong step put him directly beneath the rim.

He turned and dunked with both hands.

112–112.

“WHAT NOW, CHUCK?” Shaq shouted.

Houston called timeout, and Shaq dropped onto the bench before Del could say anything.

“Longest damn five minutes of my life.”

Kobe sat beside him. “You wanted this game.”

“I wanted to beat them. I ain’t say nothing about playing all night.”

When play resumed, Houston worked the ball to Barkley near the left block. He missed a fifteen-footer, but Hakeem slipped around Shaq, grabbed the offensive rebound, and put it back before anyone could recover.

Houston 114, Los Angeles 112.

Twenty-eight seconds remained.

Del Harris started signaling for a timeout, but Kobe caught his eye and waved him off. Del hesitated, then pointed toward the other end.

“Go!”

Kobe took the inbound himself.

Drexler was waiting near the arc, arms spread.

Shaq approached to set a screen. Kobe started right, drawing Drexler toward it, then hesitated and crossed back left. Drexler recovered, but the change of direction gave Kobe half a step.

He took one dribble inside the arc and rose near the elbow.

Drexler contested.

The jumper dropped.

114–114.

The Lakers’ bench erupted, but Kobe was already pointing toward the other end.

“GET BACK!”

Houston had twenty seconds to win it.

Maloney brought the ball up slowly. Drexler came around a screen from Hakeem, but Kobe stayed attached, forcing the pass toward Barkley near the top of the key.

Campbell stepped out to contest.

Barkley jabbed right, took one hard dribble, and stepped back behind the three-point line.

The shot looked good.

It struck the back rim, bounced high, and fell toward Shaq, who secured the rebound as the buzzer sounded.

114–114.

Shaq stood beneath the basket, holding the ball against his chest.

Then he looked toward the scoreboard.

“Aw, HELL no!”

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Double overtime.

Shaq stood near the Lakers’ bench with his hands on his hips, looking personally offended by the scoreboard.

“Man, this is some bullshit.”

Kobe laughed as he stretched his leg. “You said you had twenty minutes left.”

“I was just talking shit!”

“Well, you got five more.”

Shaq pointed at him. “I swear, if these motherfuckers tie it again—”

“Then we play another five.”

“Don’t even jinx that shit.”

Across the court, Houston wasn’t looking much better. Drexler leaned against the scorer’s table while Hakeem stretched near the free-throw line. Barkley stood listening to Tomjanovich, shaking his head occasionally.

Del Harris gathered the Lakers.

“We gotta finish strong; all we need is five minutes. So get stops, crash the boards, and don’t give them anything easy.”

Houston won the opening tip and immediately went to Barkley against Wallace. Ben held his ground through two hard bumps, but Barkley turned over his shoulder and banked in a short jumper.

Houston 116, Los Angeles 114.

“Get that weak shit outta here,” Barkley said as they ran back.

Wallace said nothing.

Kobe brought the ball up against Drexler, who was giving him a little more room now. Shaq came forward to set a screen, forcing Hakeem to step up as Kobe attacked the lane. Drexler recovered from behind, and Kobe pulled up for a short jumper.

The shot bounced off the back rim.

Barkley turned to secure the rebound, but Ben Wallace slipped past him, snatched the ball above the rim, and slammed it home with both hands.

Lakers 116, Rockets 116.

“THERE WE GO!” Shaq shouted.

Houston missed its next possession when Bowen contested Drexler’s jumper, and Wallace fought Barkley for the rebound.

Barkley reached for the ball after Ben secured it, but Wallace turned away.

“That’s one,” Ben muttered.

Barkley laughed. “You counting now?”

“Yep.”

Kobe took the outlet pass and brought the ball across half court. Drexler was waiting again.

“Still here, Clyde?”

Drexler smiled. “Where else am I gonna go?”

Kobe called for Shaq, and Houston switched the screen. Maloney found himself guarding Kobe, with Drexler retreating toward the big man.

Kobe attacked immediately.

He crossed left, slipped into the lane, and extended toward the glass as Barkley rotated across.

The ball dropped through.

The whistle sounded.

“AND ONE!”

Kobe landed beneath the basket and looked toward Barkley.

“Getting a little slow, Chuck.”

Barkley shook his head. “Man, I’ve been chasing your little ass all night.”

“Not keeping up?”

“Just shoot the damn free throw.”

Kobe grinned at Barkley, then stepped to the line and knocked down the free throw.

Lakers 119, Rockets 116.

Houston went back to Barkley, who tried to back Wallace down again. This time, Ben forced him farther from the basket and contested the jumper.

It missed.

Shaq grabbed the rebound and handed the ball to Kobe.

“Let’s go!”

The Lakers pushed upcourt. Eddie filled the right wing while Bowen moved toward the corner, pulling Houston’s perimeter defenders away from the paint.

Kobe waited for Shaq’s screen, turned the corner, and drew Hakeem toward him. He lifted the ball as though preparing to shoot, then dropped a pass toward Shaq rolling down the lane.

Shaq caught it and went up.

Hakeem challenged the attempt, forcing it off the rim.

But Shaq grabbed his own miss and slammed it through.

“THAT’S MINE!”

Lakers 121, Rockets 116.

Kobe laughed as they ran back. “You could’ve made the first one!”

Shaq pointed at him. “Two points is two points!”

Houston called timeout.

Kobe sat beside Shaq while Del reminded everyone not to get careless. Across the court, Drexler was listening to Tomjanovich with a towel draped around his shoulders.

Kobe had spent the entire game trying to shake him. Drexler still anticipated screens and positioned himself well, but the extra minutes were finally catching up with him. Whenever Kobe changed direction, the veteran needed a little longer to recover.

Kobe wasn’t exactly fresh himself.

But he could still move.

Houston came out of the timeout looking for Hakeem. Shaq denied the entry pass, forcing the ball toward Drexler, whose contested jumper bounced off the rim.

Wallace tipped the rebound toward Kobe.

“GO!” Shaq shouted.

Kobe pushed upcourt, then slowed near the three-point line as Drexler retreated in front of him.

Shaq approached to set another screen.

Kobe waved him away.

He dribbled between his legs, jabbed right, and watched Drexler shift his weight. He started toward the middle, stopped suddenly, and crossed back left.

Drexler recovered, but not quickly enough.

Kobe stepped inside the arc and rose from seventeen feet.

The jumper dropped cleanly through.

Lakers 123, Rockets 116.

Drexler shook his head as Kobe backpedaled.

Houston still had time. Hakeem established position against Shaq, spun baseline, and banked in another jumper.

Lakers 123, Rockets 118.

But the Lakers refused to give Houston another opening.

Kobe used Shaq’s screen on the next possession, drawing Hakeem toward the middle before slipping the ball inside. Shaq gathered it and threw down a two-handed dunk.

Lakers 125, Rockets 118.

Houston hurried back the other way, but Bowen forced Drexler into a difficult three that missed. Wallace held off Barkley long enough for Shaq to secure the rebound, and Drexler fouled Kobe to stop the clock.

Kobe looked at him.

“Really, Clyde?”

Drexler laughed. “Man, just shoot your free throws.”

Kobe knocked down both.

Lakers 127, Rockets 118.

Houston made one final attempt to cut into the lead, but Wallace forced Barkley into a contested jumper. Shaq grabbed the rebound, and nobody bothered fouling.

Kobe brought the ball across half court and let the remaining seconds disappear.

“Man, don’t you dare shoot,” Shaq called.

Kobe glanced at him. “You want the ball then?”

“Hell no!”

Kobe laughed and passed to Eddie. The Lakers ran out the possession, and Houston made no serious attempt to score before the final buzzer.

Los Angeles Lakers 127, Houston Rockets 118.

Shaq raised both arms.

“THANK GOD!”

Kobe burst out laughing.

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At center court, Shaq and Hakeem shook hands.

“Good game, Shaq,” Hakeem said, pulling him into a brief embrace.

Shaq shook his head. “Man, you couldn’t make it a little easier on us?”

Hakeem laughed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Kobe watched them from a few feet away. He knew how much the matchup had meant to Shaq. Ever since the 1995 Finals, Hakeem had been one of the few players capable of getting under his skin without saying much at all.

Tonight, Shaq had finally gotten the result he wanted.

The final statistics appeared on the scoreboard. Shaq had finished with 34 points and 15 rebounds. Kobe had 35 points, five rebounds, eight assists, and eight three-pointers. Hakeem had scored 31, while Barkley had somehow managed 33 points and 16 rebounds in a losing effort.

Near the scorer’s table, a local reporter spotted Kobe.

“Kobe! Can we get a quick word?”

Kobe walked over.

“Thirty-five points, eight three-pointers, and another Lakers victory. What was the difference tonight?”

“We just played hard,” Kobe answered. “Houston’s a great team. Every time we thought we had them, somebody made another shot. Hakeem, Chuck, Clyde—they weren’t giving us anything.”

“And Shaquille O’Neal? Thirty-four points, fifteen rebounds, and a win over Hakeem Olajuwon.”

Kobe smiled. “Yeah, we can see that Shaq is the best center in the league.”

A booming voice came from behind him.

“AND YOU CAN BET ON IT!”

Shaq approached with a towel draped over his shoulders, and the reporter immediately turned the microphone toward him.

“Shaq, how does it feel?”

“Man, it feels great. Dream’s one of the best to ever do it. But we got the win, and that’s what matters.”

The reporter smiled before asking Kobe one final question.

“The Lakers are now six and zero. How far can this winning streak go?”

Kobe glanced toward Shaq.

“We’ve got a long season ahead of us. Right now, I’m just happy we don’t have to play another overtime.”

“AMEN!” Shaq shouted.

Kobe thanked the reporter, and the two headed toward the tunnel.

“Man, I ever tell you that you run too damn much?” Shaq asked.

Kobe laughed. “I told you to keep up.”

“Keep up? Motherfucker, I had thirty-four and fifteen!”

“And I had thirty-five.”

Shaq stopped walking.

Kobe burst out laughing as Shaq pulled him forward again.

“Next time we play these motherfuckers,” Shaq said, “we’re winning in regulation.”

They reached the visiting locker room. Inside, Eddie and Fisher were arguing about something, while Wallace complained about Barkley’s elbows to an increasingly uninterested Bowen.

Shaq pushed through the doorway and shouted toward the trainers.

“AYO! SOMEBODY GET ME SOME ICE!”

Kobe followed him inside, laughing.